It's been a long time since I decided to sit down and write anything. I could give you a million and one excuses as to why, but we won't go there. I was recently inspired to write and so here I am, once again, sharing a bit of life with you all.
I will assume most of you have read my original story regarding my car accident. So we can skip all that, right? I want to go in a different direction and talk about my ineffective coping strategies, what I've learned and where I am today.
Most of my life (teenage years to the age of 30) I used substances that altered my mind. I never thought I had a problem with addiction. In college I binge drank and partied- hard. I was the girl getting home at 4 in the morning and then studying for a nursing exam the next day. I thought I was a normal 20 something year old girl. I never noticed that one drink was too many and a thousand was never enough. Somehow, I made it through a rigorous nursing program; quite successfully. Started working as a nightshift nurse, bought a 6 pack after every rigorous, tiring shift. Never even thought about it. Even in my mid 20's going out I was always the one who could drink you under the table. Real great talent, right? (Not).
Fast forward to 27 when my car accident happened. After my release from the hospital I stayed pretty numb off of pain medications. I recovered and went back to alcohol; except this time was different. 6 packs turned to 12 packs, turned to 18 packs. Drinking a couple days a week progressed to chronic daily drinking (and I'm not talking drinking a few, I was finishing entire packs of beer every night). I was hiding alcohol. Telling myself I could stop. But always making the decision to drink anyway. I had to by a new case of beer every single day. I even shopped at different places so I wasn't obvious. I just wanted to drink and not feel the pain and grief that was cowering over me in the background, waiting for me to turn around. I did this for almost 4 years. I spent almost 4 years killing myself in the worst way. Wallowing in self-pity, ego, anger, abandonment. I cut myself off from every single person around me. I killed my own self-esteem. I hated myself. I stopped looking in the mirror, afraid of the monster I would see looking back.
A little over 9 months ago I made a phone call that changed my life. I was drunk. And a moment of clarity made me pick up the phone and call a friend (my now best friend) who was a recovering alcoholic. The next day I entered AA, a room full of strangers, hungover as shit, and introduced myself as an alcoholic for the first time ever. November 14th, 2021. I was confused, angry, fearful and fucking broken as a human being.
So what did I do after that? I went back. Every day. I listened to other people. I shared stories. I built a tribe; a family. I worked my ass off to follow a program and face every part of myself that I never wanted to see. I retold traumas I had never spoken of. I worked every fucking day to find my blind faith when I thought my Higher Power had abandoned me.
9 moths later and I am in the middle of a chaotic uproar of emotion. I am facing the consequences of drowning my feelings for so long. I cry almost every day. But, I don't drink. I improved my health and actually started trauma therapy for chronic complex PTSD. 30 years of trauma, after being adopted by an abusive alcoholic at the age of one, and I never sought help. Ashamed of the dark corners and curtain-hidden demons inside of my head, I became rigidly self-sufficient. The feelings of abandonment and the idea that the only one who was going to take care of me was me destroyed me ever getting to know the person I was meant to be. The woman I would have become. And I became THAT bitch. You know, the really unapproachable girl looking for a fist fight? Yeah. Dealing with these emotions has been hard. I've spent nights curled up in a fetal position screaming my daughter's name, alone. I don't regret feeling these things because I now know that it is because of the absolutely inexplicable love I have for her. My heart will never belong to another soul the way it belongs to my daughter. The other traumas in my life are coming back and I'm standing on my ship, in a boiling sea, with my feet firmly planted on the floorboards and my eyes on the destination in the distance through the clouds and darkness.
So, what's my point? Coping is fucking hard. Feeling is fucking hard. Fear is a liar and you face it with courage and a sword. Today I am a strong, resilient, self-loving woman with a fiery, passionate soul. Today I am learning who I am. At 31. I am just now learning about myself. I'm addicted to loving myself and I know that I do not ever have to drink in order to cope with life again. Life on life's terms. And maybe the plan for me all along was to be a fulfilled woman of other substance besides motherhood. I'm always a mother. But, I am so much more. And alcohol no longer hides that. I feel, I love deeply and quickly, I grieve, I laugh, I cry. I just live. I just keep going. One day at a time. And, unfortunately, as I grow, relationships change and others' roles in my life change. My independence intimidates those who held my hair back and enabled me for so long. And sometimes that means growing and leaving others behind. Close the chapter; it was just the intro anyway. Begin the story. Chin the fuck up.
Love you always, Alyssa