My name is Sara and I am an alcoholic

My name is Sara and I am an alcoholic

When I say those 9 words, I’m met with a mélange of reactions depending on who the receiver is: disbelief, respect, indifference, amazement, suspicion, joy, disapproval, surprise. I’ve had people argue with me about whether I was an alcoholic or not (that’s a really weird position to argue: “No, I swear, I really am an alcoholic. I promise. Pinky swear.”). I’ve been told that I was too young/too pretty/too healthy to be an alcoholic, or that I didn’t really have a problem with drinking.

I haven’t drunk alcohol since 10 September, 2006. I was 24 when I decided it wasn’t healthy for me to drink alcohol. To be honest, that was a pretty late age for me to make the decision; I, and most everyone who loved me, had identified that I had a problem with alcohol years earlier. I have been sober from alcohol for almost 7 years, but have been sober from compulsive thinking for less than a year. What does that even mean? A little background, then on to making sense…

Me, from the drinking days. The makeup, hair and clothes hid an unhappy girl - even from myself.
Me, from the drinking days. The makeup, hair and clothes hid an unhappy girl – even from myself.

I come from a long line of alcoholics, with me having the dubious distinction of being at least the 4th generation to be afflicted with this disease. I was 13 when I had my first drunken blackout, 15 when we learned my estranged, paternal grandfather had killed himself (believed to be partly due to alcoholism), 16 when my father got sober from alcohol, and 24 when being raped by a good friend while blacked out finally convinced me that alcohol wasn’t right for me.

I used many tools in early recovery. At first, I was just dry – meaning all I did was stop drinking. I didn’t address any of the underlying issues. Then I went into outpatient rehab, where I did individual counseling, group counseling and alcohol education classes. I also went on depression medication for the first time, which was a game-changer for me. I just felt more even, less prone to exhausting highs and (more often) lows. After a while (and an insurance change), I stopped my treatment as I felt I was “cured.” I knew I couldn’t drink anymore, but I felt I had the underlying issues under control. Looking back, I can identify so many ways I still acted compulsively (meaning I reacted to situations without thinking about consequences), even though I thought I was “fixed.”

Fast forward to last summer when more bad decisions threatened to end my marriage, my sobriety and even my life. I found myself at another rock-bottom; this one was even lower than the rape that triggered my sobriety. I was convinced that my son deserved a better mother than me; my own selfish desire to see him grow up protected me from following through on my suicide ideation. For the first time in years, I found myself wanting to drink, wanting to escape the agony I was living with. I was terrified, and thank God I confided these fears in a trusted friend. She made me promise to go to a meeting and get in to see my doctor. I found a local meeting that wasn’t too scary and got back on depression medication. My husband and I started some couples counseling. I started seeing another counselor who right from the start helped me define the real underlying issues behind my drinking and compulsive thinking and walked with me as I began the hard work of healing. I attended group therapy that was focused on setting healthy boundaries in relationships. I engaged with an online 12-step group that did meetings through emails and eventually found a sponsor.

Since moving from England, the only therapy I’ve been able to maintain is the online 12-step group and my sponsor, but it has been a lifesaver. I recently completed Step 7 and continually work on managing my character defects. After all that hard work, I see so many benefits. I respond to the world and situations rather than react mindlessly. I’m more thoughtful in everything I do. I find joy in the simple life. I worry less about what other people think and more about what I think. I even find that I’m starting to like myself and who I’m becoming.

blue eyes
I’m blessed to be sober enough to see through his eyes

Also, I’ve become a better mother. I’ve become gentler with myself when I don’t do it perfectly. I’ve learned to slow down and see the world from my son’s perspective; the world is a fascinating place when viewed through a toddler’s eyes! I have more patience with him, and with myself. Our relationship has grown closer, even though we weaned from breastfeeding during this time. And I pray fervently and frequently that I have broken the cycle – that his father and I can teach him healthy habits about alcohol and help him avoid the pain of this disease.

So why write about this? I hope my story can help another mother. Many women don’t talk about their alcoholism. The stereotype of the alcoholic is the angry, middle-aged man, the (male) hobo on the street with the brown paper bag. If a woman has a problem with alcohol, she is a “party girl” or a “lush.” I tattooed my sobriety date on my left wrist – I’m as proud of that day as I am the day my son was born. I want women to feel empowered to seek help when they need it. When a woman says, I have a problem, I want her to be greeted with, “How can I help?” rather than “You’re a young woman; you can’t be an alcoholic.” Alcoholism doesn’t discriminate – it accepts all genders, races, sexualities, ages, socioeconomic statuses.

If you or someone you know has a problem with alcohol, I encourage you to find support. A 12 step program is working for me, but there are many avenues for treatment.

Find help:
Alcoholics Anonymous
Al-Anon
Adult Children of Alcoholics
Secular Organizations for Sobriety
SMART Recovery
Women for Sobriety
Dual Recovery Anonymous
SoberMommies

Find information:
National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration
Centers for Disease Control – Alcohol & Public Health

5 Minute Friday

In an effort to cut my teeth as a blogger, so to speak, I’m challenging myself to join different link-ups. This one is simple: write for 5 minutes on a topic – no editing, no thinking, just writing. Then share it and check out what others have written! 5 Minute Friday does this every week. So, here goes nothing…

This week’s topic: Friend.

Why is it so hard to put words to this topic? Why does my heart ache and feel heavy when I try to think about what friend means to me? What do you do when you are so confident that someone will be in your life forever, and then they start slipping away? What do you do when you realize that you are the one slipping away? What do you do when it feels like the only glue holding you together are the memories of bygone fun? What if you’re trying to figure out how much of that past fun was good, and how much of it was part of the unhealthy you’re trying to get rid of? What do you do when you aren’t sure what friend means? What do you do when you’re so unsure, you’re stuck in one place? Why don’t you fight the sadness?

END.

Why I started this blog…the truth uncovered

I just reread my page on why I started this blog. I think I finally realized that I was lying to myself when I wrote it.

Yes, I do love uplifting and supporting other mamas. It hurts to see judgments being flung about. It hurts worse when I catch myself judging (not my finer moments). I thought I needed to create a place for moms to celebrate each other. I was so excited in the beginning, full of ideas and visions for the future. I bought the domain name, solicited guest posts, wrote a few myself, and then…nothing.

I could blame my absence on our move from England back to the United States. It was stressful, but not worthy of a 3 month absence from something I was passionate about. I started to wonder why I wasn’t blogging, but even this introspection didn’t spur me to write. In the past few days, I think I’ve figured it out:

I was focusing on other mamas, when I should have been focusing on myself.

Overall, I believe I’m a good mama. Some days its easier to believe that, while others I have to work really hard to convince myself that it’s true. My self esteem is on shaky ground, and it’s hard to feel like a good mama when you’re not 100% convinced you’re a good person.

I’ve spent most of my life searching for self worth in every place but myself: accomplishments, jobs, education, service to others. It’s netted me a pretty good résumé, but not the happiest of home lives. I’m working to reorganize the priorities in my life, and one of them is rebuilding myself and my family instead of building up others.

So, my new goal with this blog is to chronicle my growth as a mother. Maybe it will help someone along the way, but right now that’s just a bonus. Selfish? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely.

“It is easier to do one’s duty to others than to one’s self. If you do your duty to others, you are considered reliable. If you do your duty to yourself, you are considered selfish.” — Thomas Szasz