I have shared my increasing struggle over the past 7 or so years with a couple of friends.
My best friend from my hometown since 4th grade, the best friend I have in my current hometown, my best friend from college (let's call her Mac) and my 2 sisters. Even my husband during different seasons of this fight, but I think there is some history of him growing up with a mom similar to me and so I'm not sure he sees my behavior as that far out of line.
Last summer at a family reunion my addiction was put on full display for my entire family to see.
After that, my mom called to finally address me saying that it had to stop and that she's been concerned about me for many years. And here I was thinking that I was doing such a good job of keeping it all together and making it look classy (laughing here). Only fooling myself, apparently.
More on that later, maybe.
That was July of 2019 and here I am 8 months later. This is how long it's taken me to finally get my mind ready for this major life shift. In the months between, I've had several episodes that I'm not proud of and mornings where I wake up and literally don't want to get out of bed all day due to the shame of continued behavior. So mad that the person I've shown the world is not how I really see myself. Never my best self but always doing a really good job of fooling people. Or was I?
Not really sure...
A few months ago I was talking to my mom on the phone one Sunday afternoon. We were having a lovely conversation and I really wanted her to be at peace with my progress, allowing her to feel that her stern warning had really turned me around. I live 6 hours away so I've always felt like it was pretty easy to present only what I wanted her to see or know. Moms always know, though, right?
She didn't prod, but I offered that I was doing really well and she gladly received my update. I could hear her elation. She's not the type of mom that would ever interject her opinion without being asked (that phone call last summer was the only time she's ever given such a harsh word in my adult life) and I knew that the conversation from last summer would die if I never brought it up again or possibly never gave her another reason to admonish me.
With addiction, there is also something about lying. I'm so new to this and the fog is lifting so I'll have to dig a little deeper to get to the root of why I lie but I do. In the tiniest of ways and I spare no one from this infraction. I think it's so that I can control the story and only allow people to see what I want them to see, trying to cover my darkest self. Not sure. More deep diving required.
While on the phone with her, I was telling her how well I was doing...all while drinking a glass of my favorite chilled white wine at 2:30 in the afternoon. Let me say it again...this may not be an issue for someone without a problem, but I've already outlined what day drinking looks like for me. It's not healthy or pretty. I'm sure that evening ended just the same as most others.
Fast forward to January of this year. I go on a skiing weekend with 3 of my best friends from college, Mac and 2 others. Dare I call it a ski weekend because we went down one slope one time.
Hey. We were rusty and I was thirsty.
That Friday night, deep in my cup, I shared my vulnerable truth.
You know what they say about drunk people and yoga pants. They don't lie.
Mac has watched this story unfold over the years so it was no surprise to her. The other 2 sat there with their jaws agape. Their faces were full of love and genuine concern. I could tell I shocked them and as I sobbed I saw that they felt my fear and anguish over this thing that has such a stranglehold on me. I choked out works like needing help, not sure how to proceed, what does sobriety even look like, how is it sustainable for life...all the scary questions that go through the mind of someone in my shoes.
A few days later, in the mail, I received the warmest and most loving note from Mac. Four pages imploring me to examine myself, seek help and get past this demon...to move on and live a full life free from burden. She would be just the one to speak truth into this nightmare as she is in the very same script, just playing a different role. Her mom is a severe alcoholic and Mac has seen her mom's steady decline over the past 20 years. Once high functioning and an active, enthusiastic mom, she now rarely leaves the house and is often incoherent. Her letter was gut wrenching for me because I read it as if my daughter had written it to me. It was a game changer and I'm not sure my sweet, beloved friend will ever know that she is likely the one that pulled me from the brink. You may read this one day, knowing exactly who is the author, and I love you.
So, if for no one else other than my daughter.
I will lay another brick on the foundation today and push off from here.
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