I wish I could start this blog off by saying, "Wow, this has been the craziest year of my life!", but, unfortunately, I have had few years of normalcy in my 3 decades on this earth. So, I'll start it off by saying it has definitely been a chapter, different from the rest, with ups and downs and plot twists in between.
I walked into an AA room on November 14th, 2020, hungover and confused as to what I was even doing. After years of continuous drinking that led up to full 18 packs of beer every night, I had come to realize that there may be a slight problem with my ability to cope with life. You see, I had always been known as the "strong" girl, literally my entire life. The girl who got knocked down but got back up and fought twice as hard. I had survived consistent childhood trauma, child loss, 5 failed surrogacies, death, and everything in between. And I still smiled and shared my story with others. What I didn't realize (until later), was that I had been using mind altering substances since the age of 12-13 in a completely unhealthy way. I thought I was the rebellious party girl with a feisty, take no prisoners attitude. I thought I was the fighter who would make it in life. The girl who would break the cycle, be independent, and prove to the world that I was worthy. And I did, to an extent. I became a registered nurse, bought a home, and had a long-term marriage. I had myself completely fooled that I was doing everything right in life. I made it, despite the times I was told I wouldn't. I was worthy, or so I had myself believe.
After walking into AA I had found a family, bonds that I thought were truly unbreakable. I found connections that I had longed for so badly. I found people who made me laugh endlessly and showed me how to have fun without alcohol. I found soulmates. My tribe. And for the first 6-9 months, even through the grieving processes I had to endure sober, I was happy to have this circle of support. Grateful. Proud to be a member of this fellowship; proud to be growing in ways I never even knew were possible.
In August of 2021 I started trauma therapy because alcohol wasn't my problem; I was. I was diagnosed with CPTSD. I was on my way one day to buy beer because of situations I couldn't face, and my phone rang. I stopped outside of my car to answer it. It was a wellness check from my insurance company to see if I had found a trauma counselor. That phone call saved my life. I put my phone and keys down and looked at the list of counselors and made an appointment that day. After seeing the therapist and getting a diagnosis and treatment plan, I felt like I was on top of the world, so I enrolled in college and began to put myself first. Again, I had myself fooled that things were great and I was doing everything right. Such an alcoholic.
A few sessions of trauma therapy and I was realizing patterns and behaviors and situations throughout my life that I had blinded myself of. I completely and utterly broke down. I slipped into this dark oblivion of depression (something I had never experienced because I was always drinking) and lost my shit. I separated from my husband. I cried every day. Not the normal "I'm sad" crying; the soul crushing crying that feels like your heart is dying with each sob. I began having suicidal ideations. Sitting in my living room, not seeing anything and feeling like I was in a tunnel with no end; the TV 500 miles away and barely audible. I felt purposeless, disgusting, angry, sad, and dead inside. Everyday was like this for months. And then something else happened. In my darkest moments, I was somehow losing connections with people. I was isolated. I had to take a break from my meetings because I couldn't keep myself together. I didn't want to burden others with my wreck of a life. But I realized, there were people who didn't want to talk to me either. My existence shifted. The vibe changed and I felt like a stranger in the one place I ever felt at home. If I texted someone, I wouldn't get a reply. If I called, I wouldn't get an answer.
After a few months of depression, medication changes and continued therapy made me stronger. I was able to gather the courage to go back to my meetings and attempt to regain my routine. In doing so, I was put in situations that made me feel more isolated and even ostracized. I felt like I was being kicked while I was already down. I would be ignored publicly and have comments made to me. I heard rumors about myself from people who had asked if I was okay and where I'd been while I was gone. They were told I wasn't coming back. So they never checked on me because they thought I had given up. I have learned that I have this tough persona but I care so deeply for others that I put myself last. These situations increased my feelings of isolation so I ventured out to other meetings. I tried to keep communication going regardless and it just wasn't working. And it killed me. It killed me because I have spent my entire life feeling unworthy and trying to live up to the expectations of people I want to love me. Abandonment has always been my biggest fear. Never being good enough.
My 1 year soberversary came and I was a mess. I thought I'd be so happy, but I wasn't. Welcome to getting your feelings back and dealing with life. Since that day I've worked so hard to change my thought processes and work on my insecurities and the fact that I can't control people, places, or things. So I started branching out and really talking to people and attempting to make healthy connections and it has been working. I've found love from people I didn't even realize noticed me. I've found a confidence to be able to branch out and build myself up while doing the same for others. I was able to reconnect with people I had missed when I stepped back and explained to them what was really going on, because they thought I just didn't care anymore. And I've found compassion. I've found that I don't need explanations anymore, because I am okay with me right now. I've found that I can still love people from a distance and continue to grow to the best of my ability. Progress, not perfection. AA and my Higher Power gave me the courage to do these things.
I had the honor of sharing my entire story at a speaker meeting, with a nudge from my sponsor. The people at that meeting gave me a gift I will forever be grateful for. Love. People showed up for me. I wasn't the isolated girl trying to stay afloat. I was a woman in AA telling a story I had shared with only my therapist. And people cared. It showed me that, although I had lost connections, I had gained something so much more. I had gained a bond with people who could see me. Really see me and relate to me. People who actually said my name when they walked up to greet everyone instead of glazing over me. Imagine that.
Everyone is sick in their own way, some more than others. Some people want to see others grow, and some want to see others stay the same. Sometimes, when you're healing, it changes how people feel about you. You realize the codependence that exists in those rooms, but you also realize the support and love there too. This entire year has been a humbling experience. I spent so long being "strong" and secretly drowning myself; a liar to those who thought so highly of me. Today I face my feelings, even when I hate it, and I ask for guidance. Pain brings growth. I have learned to observe and stay silent because I don't need to defend myself to anyone anymore. I am not that little girl or broken woman who has to please and defend and lower her worth. I am a woman who stands. I stand proudly. Proud of my story and inspired by the stories of others. I love, deeply. And I tolerate what I can or simply walk away. My morning begins with total surrender, everyday. I am not in control. I reflect back to how terrible I have been to myself over the years and I remind myself that I am worthy, loved, strong, sober, and present.
They say we don't see the growth in ourselves the way others do. I know I don't see what others do. I do not stand strong on my own. If you ever look behind me, you will see a village of people holding me up. And my cliché New Year's resolution is to start believing those people. For myself, and for the others I will share my message with.