When I Became an Alcoholic

Updated: Feb 9, 2020

I’ve struggled with an addictive temperament my entire life. As a child, my temper was energetic and creative. I had many imaginary friends. A significant amount of energy to play with them all. In my teens, my energy manifested into being a rebel without a cause. I was a wild girl. I pushed all social norms until they busted. In my early twenties, my energy became obsessive. I was obsessed with perfection, and that obsession allowed me to succeed reasonably quickly.

My obsession for perfection also allowed for anxiety, a massive amount of anxiety. As I grew older, my anxiety became destructive. Primarily because I had ill-adapted behaviors when coping with anxiety. My actions could no longer be dismissed as youthful. The older I got, the more outrageous my behavior appeared to be, and the more consequences followed.

In my early thirties, my anxiety came to ahead, and I experienced my first episode with manic depression. I got very sick with fear and was diagnosed with bipolar depression. I was glued to my parent’s couch for three months. I barely moved or showered. I went in and out of suicidal thinking. Eventually, with the help of antipsychotics and Lithium, I did get better.

As I began to recover, from this episode, my anxiety unleashed. I threw myself into three things: 1) Work 2) Exercise 3) Alcohol, in efforts to cope.

With time, alcohol became my priority, second to work, and exercise. I do not think this happens to most people - especially to a smart, reasonable, and responsible (all things I continue to be) person. Many of my friends have dealt with similar life adversities and did not turn to alcohol to cope. Even I did not realize I used alcohol to cope with life until I got sober, which is why I believe I become an alcoholic only after I stopped drinking.

Only when I was able to see the devastating impact alcohol had on my life did I consider myself to be an alcoholic. Alcohol became a problem when I realized it had become a problem and struggled to stop. Up until October 20, 2018, when I thought (for the first time) “oh shit, I am going to die if I keep drinking,” did alcohol stop being fun.

When my body began to shut down, I made alcohol my problem. It turned out, I did not want to die. When pushed to the edge of the cliff, I did not want to jump. So I got sober.

It has not been a perfect path since then. I’ve had a few splits. However, what is different is that I know, without a doubt, that if I drink, it will be an alcoholic woman drinking. It’s not just me having fun; it’s alcoholic me drinking to cope. Gross! The last thing I want to become is an older woman with an addictive temper who drinks alcohol. That sounds fucking boring.

24 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

R.I.P. Divorce

The biggest casualty of my inability to drink fermented beverages and maintain a healthy mind was, undoubtedly, my marriage. The family I created as an adult came crashing down alongside me. Examining

Sober is the New Fabulous

I have officially spun around the sun for four fucking long decades. Unfortunately for me, I no longer have a celebratory vehicle to transport me into the majestic land of a dopamine rush. Surprisingl

On The Other Side of Early Sobriety

For me, getting sober was the metaphoric equivalent of taking a hammer straight onto my glass heart. Sobriety sent my heart flying into a million pieces. It crushed every sense of belonging I had. It