On May 20th of last year I made the
strongest and bravest decision of my life. Albeit this sounds cliché, I know
this for a fact. I know this due to the changes it has made in my life and the
fear I had of walking into that first meeting. With no eyes I knew, or smiles I
understood. It was just me. I went after a workday I don’t remember, and a night
before that I never will forget.
As I sat there in the parking lot, 45 minutes
early, I cried. I cried to the point of feeling as though I was drowning. Not
from my tears, but from an ocean of a lost mind. Nothing clear, nothing
definite – just waves of thoughts from the night before, the whole year I spent
wasting. Times when I just floated on a wave of rapture and times when I went
under.
But I knew staying is what I had to do in order
to live. As people started to go inside, I first only saw men. Older men who
knew the other men and were smiling. This angered me. They were smiling and I
was crying. I put my ignition on to leave. I felt like an outcast before I even
went inside. But something made me stay in my car and wait. And immediately
after that decision, a woman came out of her car. For some reason, I felt
better. Better not meaning much, but better enough to look in my mirror, try
and compose myself, take a deep breath and walk in.
I picked a seat immediately. Second row. Middle.
And before I knew it, women were crowding around me. Telling me it was okay,
that this is a great decision, that I didn’t have to admit it just yet if I
didn’t want to, that they would always be here. I got a pamphlet of numbers and
names. And one smiley face.
One woman asked me what made me decide to come.
I was crying too much to answer. She kept trying to guess and then she saw my
wrists and stopped. Or maybe she noticed my legs. Or the fear in my eyes that
she recognized at her first meeting too.
It was my turn and I was instructed on what to
do.
“My name is Kristin
and I am an alcoholic.”
It has been one year since then. Since the first
time I admitted it to a room full of strangers. To now, where I’m admitting it
to the Internet. For six months I went to AA, sometimes four times a week,
sometimes just once.
AA didn’t save my life, it started it.
If I didn’t have AA, I don’t know where I would
be right now. If I didn’t admit the one thing that took me two years to admit,
I wouldn’t be where I am now: beginning my MFA in the fall and loving my job. I
wouldn’t have the confidence I have now. In all honesty, at the rate I was
going, there’s a chance I could be dead right now.
I found people in those rooms, some I never even
had a personal conversation with, but learned about them in the deepest, the
most profound, the most genuine ways. And they learned about me as well. I was
no longer alone in a world that I always thought never understood me. I will
always be grateful for those experiences, from that first meeting where I
admitted I didn’t want to end up like my late grandfather to the last few
months where I lead a meeting with confidence and control.
I remember once I was going to a meeting and got
pulled over on the street before. He asked where I was going and when I said AA
he questioned how old I was. When I told him 22, he said, “Aren’t you a little
young for this?” It put a smile to my face when months before I would’ve given
him attitude. I still got the ticket, but I was grateful that it was not a DUI
test or a car accident leading to a night in jail. No, those things never
happened to me. I had a “high bottom”. But they could’ve and I am so grateful
that I never got to that point. And there is something deep inside me that
knows I never will.
Yes, of course there are urges to drink. To have
that one beer just for the taste I loved. Or to feel that burning sensation that
goes down with a Jameson shot. But I know it will never be just one beer or one
shot. It will always be more. I learned this through AA. And I have learned to
control this. I learned to the point where I can have alcohol in my house with
no gravitational pull to the fridge. To the point where someone can put a drink
to my face, the smell consuming my brain, and I smile, shake my head politely
and say “no thank you”. Those are small yet amazing miracles that I will never
take for granted. I thank God every single night saying “thank you for today’s
sobriety.” I will keep this up until the day I die.
Only a year has passed but it feels like a
lifetime. When asked why I don’t drink, I sometimes shrug, sometimes say I just
don’t want to tonight. If they keep pushing, I tell them the truth. It’s no
longer “admitting” who I am, because there is nothing wrong with who I am. I am
an alcoholic and have learned to live sober. I am an alcoholic that look at
drunk people now with both disdain but also sympathy. This is a struggle I am
still dealing with, but my patience grows every day.
I wanted to write this piece for many reasons. I
will easily admit that one reason is the pride that consumes me with what I
have accomplished. But more importantly, it is to all of those people out there
who know they have a problem but don’t want to give it up. I have been there. I
know this feeling. I suffered with this thought, that ocean of incessant waves.
And it isn’t easy. And I will never tell you it is. But if you are willing and
open-minded, you are ready. You are ready to start that life of yours that you
thought you’d never have. And I am here with you. I am here to help, I am here
to listen, I am here to tell you that you CAN do it. You are strong enough and
you are never alone.
I will never say “if I can do it, you can too”
because I don’t believe in a phrase like that. Everyone is different. But I
will say to you with complete honesty: I guarantee your life will change if you
choose this path. You have to work for it, to the point where all you want to
do is give up and quit. But you will get past this. You may even relapse but you
need to keep trying. You can do this. I believe in every single person – no
matter what his or her “bottom” is. Don’t let a substance consume your life. Let
your beautiful ambitions, goals, and mind do that.
Contact me on twitter: kayjay027 if you feel
like talking to someone. Talking to a stranger is sometimes an easier outlet
than the people who love you the most.
May 20th marks my one year of
sobriety. I thank my sponsor and all of my supporters who helped me through it
all. I love all of you.
And thank you to The Passion Hub for letting my
article hopefully spread to someone. One person is good enough for me.
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