At Long Last, Clarity Has Arrived

Well, this is going to be rough, but let’s fucking go…

It has been 8 months since my last blog.  My sincerest apologies for ghosting you all without saying goodbye.  Once you hear the reason behind my much needed break, you might understand why.  My life looks much different than it did last July.  I’m not sure why I’m rhyming like Lin-Manuel Miranda- I swear this is not my audition for Hamilton.

Let’s get right on into it.  Last summer was one of the hardest times of my life.  From the outside looking in, everything seemed to be going okay.  I was working full time, socializing with friends, and exercising daily.  I checked most of the boxes of being a functional, stable member of society.  

However, on the inside, I was filled with daily dread, hopelessness and isolation.  My depression became so bad that I experienced suicidal ideation for the first time in my life.  I didn’t want to die, but my intrusive, depressive thoughts often had me imagining how easy it would be to drive off the road some days. When my rapidly declining mental health became too much, I always had my trusted (and toxic) sidekick, alcohol, to eliminate the pain.

My old self, who believed I was self-aware to a fault (LOL), would have never admitted that alcohol could have been the driving force behind my fractured mental state. Never.  I just needed to get my dream job in Hollywood and then I would be fulfilled.  That’ll do it.  I also had to eliminate all the ‘toxic’ people in my life and then I would finally be happy.  And once I lose those 10 pounds, I will feel better about how I look on the outside and my self-worth will sky rocket along with it.  I believed that everyone and everything else was the problem and never considered that I could have possibly been self-sabotaging myself all along.

With this mindset, I kept excelling in my drinking career since there was never a problem a martini couldn't fix.  Alcohol gave me the confidence I didn’t have and the happiness I deeply craved, even if it was just instant gratification.  My self-imposed torment would vanish once that ice-cold vodka touched the back of my throat.  

There were some drinking nights where I was fine and actually had a good time.  But there were others, more often than not, when I would black out and not remember the previous night’s events.  Come morning, I would wake up, hungover, promising myself I would take the upcoming night off, only to get the ‘urge’ for a cocktail around 3pm.  The thought of that first drink would consume me and cause me to mentally obsess over it until happy hour came.  Upon deep reflection, I realized that this has not just been going on for a few months.  If I am being honest with myself, this vicious cycle has been on repeat for the better part of a decade, becoming slightly more progressive after each passing day.    

While I will get more into my own personal ‘rock bottom moment’ next week, my drinking hit its peak on a Sunday night in late August of 2022.  I had spent the weekend binge drinking after an event that happened that previous Friday night.  I felt deep shame and continued to drink the remainder of the weekend.  I’m sad to report that my last drink was a Bacardi on ice. Classy bitch. I wish I had a more iconic final drink, but at least I went out channeling my inner Jack Sparrow. 

I will never forget the feeling I had waking up that following morning.  I was as low as I had ever been and was looking for a lifeline.  I was desperate and knew I couldn’t go on living this way for much longer.  It was after this weekend that I realized I was an alcoholic and in need of serious help before tragedy ultimately hit.  

I didn’t know how lucky I was until a few months into recovery.  The desperation I felt at that moment was a gift in which I attribute to saving my life.  I started a recovery program later that week and have been sober ever since.  I recently celebrated 6 months of sobriety which is a feat I never thought I could attain.  No one forced me to get help. I was not given an ultimatum.  No one even witnessed my ‘rock bottom’.  I could have gone on living the way I was and no one would have ever known.  To this day, I can’t explain what brought me to seek help, but I will be forever grateful for the gift I was given that I know not everyone is fortunate enough to receive.   

When I initially quit drinking, I was hopeful that giving up this daily toxin would result in some perks like weight loss, clear skin and energy for days.  Instead, I gained weight from substituting alcohol with food, experienced hormonal breakouts and slept more than ever (especially in the first few months.)   I also had several other health issues pop up that I had been unknowingly numbing out with alcohol.  So to put it plainly, my overall well being was pretty-fucking-subpar.  Not exactly the picture perfect poster child for sobriety but I’m working on it.

I have gone through some dark stuff in the past 6 months, but I proved to myself I could do it without the assistance of alcohol.  I now realize that there is absolutely nothing terrible enough that a drink would fix.  And let’s be honest, I wouldn’t want just one drink.  If I ever drink again, it would be a full-on binge and trust me when I say, no one wants to be within a 30-mile vicinity for that type of self-destruction. 

I have rationalized my drinking for years, categorizing it as “normal”, when it was far from it.  Along with admitting my alcoholism, I have also had to deal with the ugly, painful parts of myself that I tried so hard to hide.  This is especially difficult for the narcissistic side of me but I’m making progress each day so there’s hope for my humility.  

While at first I was ashamed of the stigma that surrounds my alcoholism, I am now profoundly proud of my sobriety.  It is the single most important thing I have done in my life thus far. I am looking forward to meeting the woman I was supposed to become before alcohol sank its insidious teeth in me.