No Thanks, I Don't Drink Anymore

I didn't expect that I'd ever need to utter those words. I hated alcohol and everything that it stole from me growing up with an alcoholic mother. I was determined to never touch the stuff. It was "evil" and "destructive," and I wanted zero part of it. I had my coffee and cigarettes and that was plenty good for me! (Until it wasn't).

How I Became a Daily Drinker

It was toward the end of my first longtime relationship that I found myself slowly becoming a daily drinker. It started out harmless enough, I was in my late twenties, living in a college town surrounded by binge drinkers and professional partiers. I was still very much a "lightweight" - often teased by coworkers and friends that it only took a couple of beers or one mixed drink to get me tipsy. My new habit of a beer a night, every night, seemed completely fine. What I didn't realize at the time was that I was already accidentally dependent on my daily dose of numb. My relationship of 10 years was slipping away and there was no fixing things. My life as I knew it was crumbling before my eyes, and I wanted something - anything - to ease the ache. Alcohol became that tool.

Dependence Becoming Addiction

My dependence turned quickly into addiction coupled with reckless behavior when I moved out of my rental house, cities away from my "happily ever after" and into the horribly unhealthy and unstable home of my (actively addicted) mom and step-dad. To be fair, my mom meant well. I cannot fault her for wanting to take her baby's pain away and that the only way she knew how was by giving her free access to the stuff that helped her cope with all of her own pain and trauma throughout her life. I was sent into town every day or every other day with a blank check, list of booze, and consent to "get whatever you want for yourself." At that point, I wanted every damned thing. One of each, please! I just didn't want to feel what I was feeling. I stayed with my parents for what felt like an eternity but was actually only a few months before moving into an apartment with my best friend. More horrible (albeit sometimes fun) choices were made over the coming year or two, as I moved from beer to vodka and back to beer again. During that time I was drugged and raped by a guy I met online, met a man that didn't love me like I loved him, got pregnant with him and devastatingly miscarried, then eventually (somehow) managed to find love once again. But my drinking didn't stop when my heartache began to ease. I had found somebody who was in as much pain as I was, and we just drank together.

Trying to Quit

Over the course of the first five years of my new relationship, I started to realize that I was "becoming my mother," and it Freaked. Me. Out. I heard myself saying the things she said while I was growing up (and that I despised) "I'm not drunk, I'm tired. I just need a beer to relax. It helps me sleep," and so on. I knew these were the words of somebody in denial, and I was a lot of things, but I wasn't someone who lacked self-awareness. I tried to quit drinking several times over the next few years, but never made it more than a few weeks — maybe a month at best. The idea of quitting forever was terrifying to me. I could white knuckle my way through a very short break, but imagining my life without drinking - at weddings, funerals, birthdays, on vacation, had me legitimately and completely panicking. It felt impossible, excruciating, punishing, miserable, lonely, isolating, basically, it was the very definition of a Living Hell. My favorite plan was "moderation". I would limit how many I could have per day during the week. When the number of drinks were lower, the potency of the beer got stronger. If I could only have one or two, those would be the strongest microbrews I could find (hence sort of cheating the system - legally). I was Frank from the Netflix series Shameless.

A New Reason

The one and only wonderful thing that I credit alcohol to giving me - is my daughter. I had a Russian funeral for one of our closest friends and a wedding in the same day, after a copious amount of booze at each event (with the same group of friends), I had drunk sex with my boyfriend and ended up conceiving my beautiful daughter. Quitting drinking for pregnancy was the easiest thing in the world. There was not a moment that I would have traded this pregnancy for a sip and I was not about to risk poisoning her even if the articles said a certain amount was "safe." She was too important, and I had known loss before. I didn't touch a drop.

If only I had stayed sober after she was born. Looking back, that would have been so much easier. I did abstain for a few months after she was born but found myself slowly easing back into my normal couple (or few) high alcohol content beers before bed every night. I got really drunk at a few parties and felt like death the next couple of days, all while parenting the cutest (and loudest) toddler on the planet. Following each binge, the guilt, shame, and emotional pain would set in which led to, naturally, more drinking. It was a vicious cycle.

The Turning Point

I made a promise to my baby girl while she was in utero. I typed it and framed it and it hangs on her wall, still today. In it, I vowed to her that I would learn from my past (and from our family's) and would not pass "those things" along to her. I promised to be present for her. To be healthy in mind, body, and spirit for her, and to not let the stresses of daily life tear our little family apart. I was breaking those promises and I hated it. Yes, she was tiny, but she was learning quickly and by 2 1/2 she could tell when mommy was checked out and when she wasn't. But I didn't know how to stop. The voice that checked the number of bottles left in the 6 pack before work and then nagged to stop on the way home to get more "just in case" was louder than the voice saying "YOU DON'T WANT THIS. YOU DON'T NEED THIS. YOU PROMISED HER. YOU PROMISED YOURSELF."

I had been seeing a therapist for several years to work on some deeply rooted trauma and anxiety. She and I talked often about my drinking and my wanting to quit, but she never pressed the issue. She suggested checking out AA and I gave her a laundry list of reasons why it wasn't a good fit for me. I learned later that she was concerned if she pressed the drinking issue I would stop therapy, which was an accurate assumption. I wasn't ready. But the time had come when we had worked through the vast majority of my "stuff" and the one thing that sat on the table, naked and in the glaring spotlight, was my drinking. We both knew it. She suggested I see an LDAC (Licensed Drug & Alcohol Addiction Counselor) and I wholeheartedly agreed. I was ready (ish) and I knew I wasn't going to get there with my current therapist or surely I'd have done so by then.

Picking a Stop Date

I was encouraged by my new counselor to pick a stop date — and after many reasons dates wouldn't work - "Well, I have this thing in this month where I will want to drink, and my boyfriend is going to be gone for a couple of weeks which will trigger my insecurity so I can't quit before that date" - I finally decided that September 29th would be my quit date. It was a few months away and gave me time to change my mind. It was also the same date that I had quit smoking 8 years prior, so it seemed auspicious.

My Rock Bottom

My bottom would come before September 29th, on a work trip, after many glasses of wine and a couple of hard liquor popsicles (those should have warning signs), an Uber ride I don't remember and coming to (somewhat) as I leaned over my hotel room toilet purging every ounce of my soul with zero recollection of how I got back to my room. My last memory is stepping into the Uber. I was in Chicago. Alone. I could have been raped and/or killed. I could have lost my job. My long-awaited, absolutely adored 2 1/2 year old could have lost her mother, and for what?! The hours spent traveling home the next day were the most painful of my life. I had to face myself and my choices. The world spun around me as my coworkers reported back to my bosses that they were concerned about me, some wanting me banned from future events. Horrible. Humiliating. Devastating. Shameful. Terrifying.

My Last Drink and a New Beginning

One week later I was on my first family vacation since becoming a mom, with my mom, step-dad and daughter at the state fair. We had a surprisingly great time. We swam and played and laughed (and drank) and enjoyed each other's company. We stopped at the fair on Sunday before returning home, and a noon beer sounded delicious (it was after all, "noon somewhere") so I had one, as did my mom. I sipped my beer in the hot August sun, not knowing it would be my last. It was completely unceremonious. My mom has since said she wishes she had known it would be my last, as she'd have had us do a "cheers." But I didn't plan it to be. I was just�ready.

When I got home I decided I wasn't going to drink that night. Monday was the first day of my daughter's new big-girl school, and we both cried but stayed strong. No binky for her, no beer for me. We were in this together. By Tuesday, I had made it a couple of days, and it felt good, so I decided to keep going. I was on a roll. Wednesday came and went and by Thursday I could feel the weekend reaching for me, and that familiar, nagging voice which had been manageable so far that week was getting louder and more demanding. It scared me. How would I go the whole weekend without drinking?

I knew that I couldn't do it on my own. I had tried and failed too many times before. It took more energy to "moderate" than to just not drink it all. I knew that if I didn't do something differently this time that I would be right back in the cycle come Friday after work (if I made it that far). I looked up Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in my area for that Thursday night and I picked one that had a welcoming name. It ended up being a women-only meeting that even offered babysitting. It felt meant to be.

On that Thursday I learned that I am not alone. I learned that it was so much easier to stop drinking when I was surrounded by many others who had been there and who made the same choice to stop. I found a support system and new friends and new tools to cope with life on life's terms. The monthly milestones gave me both something to look forward to and a huge sense of accomplishment. I was doing it. And it felt amazing.

My September 29th came early. I had my last drink at noon on August 14th, 2016, and I am so thankful that I am able to say, "No, thank you. I don't drink." with pride and confidence. I don't need to make excuses, but I'll tell you why if you ask.

I am aligned. I can now read the words I wrote to my daughter without shame because I'm making good on my word. I am the me that was hidden behind the numbness and poor choices. I am the me that I wanted to share with the world and especially to my daughter. It feels amazing to be free from alcohol addiction and to live my Truth at last. Friends, let me tell you, life without booze has been far from excruciating, boring, or dull. My new life is robust and creative and joyous. It's full of color and feelings and possibility. It's more fun (yes, really!) I didn't believe it could be, but I promise that it is. It feels amazing to feel again. Even the difficult feelings. Alcohol kills the joy with the pain — the good with the bad. It can't tell the difference. I wouldn't trade sobriety for anything. I am so very grateful.

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Editorial Note: While S.K. is proudly not anonymous, she loves her mom very much and has opted not to share her name for this piece.