Addiction

I guess I always did have a problem with alcohol. The first time I ever drank at a young age led to a blackout. So did most of the other times when I come to think about it. I suspect genetics, bad choices, and a little childhood trauma mixed with an addictive personality are to blame here, but who really knows? I guess it doesn’t really matter, I just have to deal with it now.

In high school, alcohol was a way for me to feel “normal” at parties. I had always felt quite awkward in social situations and alcohol completely rid me of all self-consciousness. It felt like the missing piece to the puzzle. I could go have fun without the awful social anxiety that plagued me.

This lasted into my early twenties and was exacerbated by the university lifestyle. Sure, I was always getting too drunk, but drinking felt like a competition in those days and I was good at it. If I wasn’t out at a bar or house party, alcohol was still always on my mind.

Life was a series of parties with this depressing and boring part I had to go through until the next opportunity to drink. I remember wondering how people could have fun without drinking. I had lost that ability somewhere along the way. I lost interest in all other things. My life started to revolve around alcohol.

A catalyst for the progression of my addiction was when I realized all of the shame, guilt, and sickness from heavy drinking the night before could be cast away with a few drinks the next morning. This is kind of when I lost the “off” button for my drinking. I eventually realized alcohol is just borrowing happiness from the next day and I had accumulated a significant amount of debt.

As this went on, alcohol robbed me of any ambition I had left. Work became something I did to pay for alcohol. I didn’t progress in my work life, I was stagnant. I was barely capable of doing my low-paying job so how could I expect to go after a more fulfilling and higher-paying position?

I had no interest in school anymore, it was just something I did, and it kept me close to the party scene. School also made me feel less guilty about my stagnant work life because I was still a “student” and didn’t need to grow up yet. However, all things come to an end, both good and bad.

School ended, and university friends all moved on with their lives in different cities. I hid myself from the friends who stuck around. I felt “less than”. I didn’t want them to see how much of a problem I really had, so I isolated. I made new friends with the same hobby as me, drinking. I also made friends with the drugs. This sped up the downward spiral and there was no looking back.

I eventually ran away from my problems to a different part of the country. This was probably one of the worst choices I’ve ever made. As if a different city would cure me of all my problems and give me a fresh start. I was a little naive at the time but it seemed like the only plausible option. I got a job and lived with my aunt while I got myself set up. Once again I aimed low when it came to finding work and I was not even making enough money to afford all the alcohol I was consuming.

I was completely hopeless. I admitted at this point that I was indeed an alcoholic/addict but I had no idea how to stop it. I didn’t think I could. Every moment outside of work I was drinking. The physical symptoms of addiction started to catch up with me. I would wake up every morning, sweating and shaking. I would throw up every morning from the hangover nausea and anxiety attacks. I could barely drive to work from the panic attacks.

Making it through the day was unbearable. I looked horrendous. I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. Busted blood vessels in my eyes from vomiting made me look like I was dying. Eventually, my aunt found an embarrassing amount of my hidden liquor bottles, my shame stash. I was also throwing a lot of my empty bottles in the work trash as well so she only found a small number of my bottles.

My aunt kicked me out of the house but she said if I went and got treatment I could live there after, as long as I got some help. This was probably one of the most important moments of my life. This is the moment I started to fight back and decided to give sobriety a chance. So thanks Aunt Judy, it was the tough love I needed.

I flew straight to an in-patient treatment center for thirty days. It was the best decision I ever made. It didn’t last, once I got out I relapsed within two weeks but I will say that it got the ball rolling. I now wanted to be sober. So, my dad drove me back to rehab again for another thirty days. I learned so much about myself. Both of those thirty-day stints in the treatment center were the longest stretches of sobriety I had ever had. I had hope once again.

However, life outside of rehab is a different beast altogether. I relapsed again and ended up in the psych ward because I literally had no other options. Somehow, I managed to sober up again and I stayed sober for an extended period of time. I was pretty much sober for the best part of three years with a few small slips. I got a good job, had hobbies, and started working out. I even started dating again and hanging out with friends. I started to build a life for myself. Things really did turn around for me.

The evil thing about addiction though, is that it’s the one disease that convinces you that you don’t have it. I let my guard down. I guess you could call it a perfect storm. I was in a depressive episode, extremely anxious, and triggered by something I couldn’t control. I gave in and I relapsed once again. This relapse was quite a bit bigger than a slip. It’s been a year since I first relapsed and I am only now getting back to a good place where I think I can stay sober and rebuild my life. I will go into this relapse in more detail in a separate article.

For those three years (minus the few slips) where I didn’t drink, my addiction was growing inside of me. I would say within two weeks my addiction was worse than it had ever been before. It returned with a vengeance.

I had six visits to the five-day in-patient detox center. I ended up in the psych ward more times than I went to the detox center. I had ambulances and cops show up and take me to hospitals for risk of overdose. I blew all the savings that I had built up over the last three years. I eventually lost my job. I lost everything including any self-respect and self-confidence I had found along the way.

Two months ago I got into another thirty-day in-patient rehab center. I completed the program once again and gave it all I had. I go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings every day and another group therapy once a week. I am actively looking for work again. I meditate every day and practice different mindfulness techniques. I go to the gym every day. I pray to a God I may or may not believe in. Most importantly, I’m opening up to people and learning to express myself. Writing has become very therapeutic for me.

I feel like this is my last chance at life. There isn’t much more I could lose. Every time I relapse it ends up being worse than I could have ever imagined. I don’t think I could mentally or physically survive another relapse, so I have to remain on guard and stay vigilant. I know I have another relapse in me, but I may not have another recovery in me. This is life or death for me and I choose life.

So here I am, living my life one day at a time, doing everything I can to not take that first drink. I am optimistic and I once again have hope. I will do everything in my power to stay sober. It’s going to take a long time for me to get back what I’ve lost but I am going to do it. I’m also going to try to use my experiences to help others. I hope my story can help someone. Maybe my story can make someone else who is struggling feel less alone or avoid the mistakes I have made.

Thanks for reading my story.

-Patrick