The Truth

Hello. I’m here to be honest. I’m here to tell the whole truth. I’m here to be real. I’m done being invisible. I’m done feeling paralyzed. Although it’s not my place to tell our story, it’s about damn time I told my story.

I’m an alcoholic…well, sort of. I stopped drinking almost 3 years ago. I didn’t go to AA. I don’t have a sponsor. I haven’t gone to rehab. I almost ruined my life, multiple times actually. I’m here to say I won’t drink again not only because I choose not to, but I won’t drink again because I’m terrified of that “person” being the best part of myself.

I was the MOST FUN when I drank. Sure, I didn’t NEED alcohol to have fun, but man…I sure was fun when I drank. I was the life of the party. I was that girl on the bar dancing like there was no tomorrow. I was the girl who told other people how she really felt when she was wasted. I was the girl who defied odds when I had too much to drink.

I was surrounded by friends, but lonelier than ever. I was striving for excellence while secretly hiding my urge to binge drink on the weekends. I was the one who passed out too soon. I was the one who was arrested for a DWI (twice actually).

Then I get even smarter. I married an alcoholic! What a picture perfect couple! We were both self-destructing ourselves one beer and chardonnay at a time. There wasn’t physical or verbal abuse with us. We preferred to numb. We both numbed. Ya know, it’s easier to NOT talk about the hard stuff than it is to talk about the hard stuff.

Then kids came along. Ah, the beautiful kids. Now, it’s no longer about drinking with friends because it’s Friday night. It’s about drinking because we’re exhausted from our kids. Our kids drive us crazy. We’re just trying to “relax”. We just want to escape the responsibility for one freaking minute! Sure, one glass of wine to unwind turns into 3 bottles, but hey…that’s normal. I mean, come on. Everyone does this on Friday and Saturday night. It’s just what you do! It’s how you push through the tough times with kids. All of the “Mommy I need this” and the baby crying and the constant whining. It’s just how it is.

No mind that your husband’s passed out because he already got into his beer stash before you even got home from work. It’s fine. It’s all good.  You can do this. You have your wine. You have your girlfriends to chat with…but don’t you dare tell them about your husband’s drinking. No no. That’s not civilized. He should be doing what other dad’s are doing. Painting picket fences or some other bullshit like that. He should be getting up making everyone Mickey Mouse pancakes in the morning and bringing you breakfast in bed. Not sleeping until 11:00 am and then cracking open a beer because it’s Saturday and college football is on.

I’m sorry…I’ve gotten carried away. This is supposed to be MY TRUTH. Not our story. But, the thing is, I’ve lived in our story for so long I can’t separate the two anymore. My story is part of our story. His life is part of my life. Our truth is dark, sad, numb, paralyzing, and scary.

But the best part about it is that it’s also my past. It’s no longer my now. It’s no longer paralyzing. It’s not strangling me anymore. It’s not who I am now. It remains a part of me. It will always be a part of us. I’m writing this now to remind me that when I complain about something today, I can look back and say, “Wow…yes, my house is a freaking mess. There’s shit all over the place that needs to be cleaned. The kids always need something. Someone’s going to be whining. But I’m sober. He’s sober. We’re both trying. And we’re here together.”



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