A Journey through recovery
I thought I was just trying to feel confident and normal. It turns out alcohol is cunning and baffling to everyone, including the user.
Awaken: A Journey Through Recovery
The Journey Begins: Alcohol became my refuge, giving me false confidence and helping me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I first started drinking at 13. I was sitting at a table with my mother, two aunts, and my older sister, playing cards and sipping wine late into the night. I remember feeling like I was part of something. A sense of calm washed over me with every sip of wine, and I thought I had found the answer to always feeling different. At that moment, I decided that if drinking was part of being older, then growing up was all I wanted. That summer, I became obsessed with the idea of adulthood.
I dressed provocatively to appear older, flaunting my fully developed figure at just 13, hoping to gain attention from boys who were of legal age. I believed adulthood would bring independence and fulfillment. At first, my drinking was sporadic, but as school became more difficult - marked by bullying, failing grades, and a traumatic home life - alcohol and drugs quickly became my escape.
By 14, I thought love could solve my problems. I started dating a 17-year-old boy who seemed to offer the comfort I craved. Drinking with him became a regular occurrence, and I eventually lost my virginity to him. Alcohol played the leading role—it became my refuge.
Spiraling Downward: My Life Became Unmanageable
After high school, college was not part of my path. Instead, I worked at a local restaurant managed by my sister. What began as a way to support myself slowly became the backdrop for something far more destructive. My drinking escalated, and with it came frequent blackouts—lost time followed by the heavy weight of regret and confusion.
During one of those blackouts, I was violated by someone I had trusted and considered a friend. For years, I blamed myself, believing I had somehow invited what happened. That belief shaped how I saw myself. It took years to understand the truth: it wasn’t my fault, and I did not deserve it. But at the time, that kind of compassion for myself didn’t exist.
As my drinking progressed, so did the unraveling of my character. Dishonesty became easier. Theft became justifiable. I crossed lines I never thought I would. I surrounded myself with people who drank like I did, creating a world where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In that world, my behavior blended in, and that made it even easier to continue. I was normal!
In 1982, I met the man who’d become my husband. We married on November 12, 1983. Our shared love of drinking became the foundation of our relationship. We built a life around it—friends, weekends, celebrations—all centered on alcohol. The people around us drank the same way, reinforcing the illusion that everything was normal. But beneath that illusion was instability. Our drinking led us into risky, often dangerous situations, and the consequences began to stack up.
Eventually, my life became unmanageable—not all at once, but slowly. I lost jobs. I lied. I stole. The person I had become was someone I barely recognized, yet I didn’t know how to stop her. Even in the chaos, I didn’t see my losses. My identity was stolen by alcohol, but none of that was clear to me. I sank deeper into drinking. The consequences grew louder, but so did my denial.
Until one day—when I believed I was trying to save someone else—everything changed. I ended up saving myself. I walked into an AA meeting at age 24 because a family member had been sent to treatment. I attended a family meeting to better understand his alcoholism. It was an open AA meeting, where participants shared their experiences with alcohol.
As I listened, something shifted. Their stories didn’t feel separate from mine - they felt like my own. A quiet knowing rose within me: this is it… I am an alcoholic.
Awaken: Committing to Lifelong Sobriety
By simply accepting, “I am an alcoholic,” I felt an immediate release from the guilt and shame I had been carrying. A sense of calm washed over me, something I now understand as my Higher Power stepping in where I could not.
A deeper understanding came later, through time, patience, and faith, both in myself and in something greater than me. But in that moment, I allowed the possibility of change, and that willingness changed everything. I could see how my life had become unmanageable and when I was honest about how bad it was, the more I could see my denial.
For years, I had felt something was wrong within me but couldn’t name it. That night, everything came into focus. I saw my truth, and with it came a new clarity: I could not continue living the way I had been. Removing alcohol was the first step to my recovery.
On October 3, 1984, I made a promise to myself—a promise as monumental as the life I was leaving behind. I committed to lifelong sobriety, not just for my own survival, but to break the cycle of alcoholism in my family.
Even as I sat in that first meeting and accepted that I am an alcoholic, and as I heard that complete honesty was essential in the First Step, I knew it would take a willingness to be honest in ways I had never been before. What I didn’t grasp was the enormity of the task ahead.
I could no longer be around those groups of people who drank the way we did, making it seem normal. That “normal” was no longer my reality. I didn’t yet understand that I would have to unpack those early years when I began drinking—the reasons I chose alcohol instead of asking for help. Understanding that would become essential to my growth.
This became one of the most profound realizations of my journey: I would have to face and work through years of darkness, dishonesty, and self-destruction.
Looking back now, I see the grace in it all. I walked into that room trying to understand someone else’s life—and walked out with the beginning of my own recovery. The work of a Higher Power so profoundly by my side.
A New Perspective
I “chose” this journey, as we say in the program, for the invaluable lessons it has given me. I refuse to let my circumstances define me—I am the creator of my own reality.
My first true spiritual awakening came after an accident that led to legal consequences. It forced me to see just how unmanageable my life had become. That moment compelled me to confront my life with complete honesty, leading me to two vital truths: first, that returning to drinking could endanger both my life and the lives of those I love; and second, that I needed to break the cycle of alcoholism and its generational impact for my children. That was the moment my willingness to live without alcohol truly began.
Reflecting on my past, I see now that I endured some of the most traumatic experiences a child could face. At just five years old, I became aware that my father was unsafe. In that moment, it felt as though something had been stolen from me—my safety and my ability to be my true self. But today, I understand that this part of me was never truly lost. She has always been there keeping me safe and patiently waiting.
Even so, I do not blame my parents for my alcoholism. Through deep inner work, I’ve come to believe that I “chose” this journey, as we say in the program, for the growth and awareness it has offered me.
Alcohol Almost Worked
Alcohol almost worked—it gave me a fleeting sense of calm.
Looking back now, especially at my teenage years, I can see that I was searching for myself in all the wrong places. I looked outward—to friends, experiences, anything—to help me feel something while operating in survival mode. I didn’t realize it then, but I was completely disconnected from my true emotions. Alcohol became my way of coping, my way of quieting what I couldn’t yet understand. For a time, it felt like relief—but it was never the solution.
Since making the decision to live a sober life, I’ve experienced countless spiritual moments. I’ve learned that to recognize them, I must slow down, be present, and sit quietly long enough to truly see.
Someone once said to me, “Don’t question why you forget who you are; just celebrate how glorious it feels to remember.”That has stayed with me.
I will close with the guidance of the Serenity Prayer, which has been my daily affirmation since 1984:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.”