I didn’t know I came from a family of alcoholics until I left them. I didn’t know I was depressed until I didn’t want to live anymore. And I didn’t know I could feel better until I did.
My days of being a party girl are long gone but I always was more of the suburban sociable wine drinker anyway. A glass or two with my friends, a Cosmo at the bar, maybe some free drinks at a show. Drinking made me feel bad and caused me to lose memories, yet I drank anyway. Alcohol abuse crept up on me.
I have been alcohol-free for more than six months at the time of this writing and I realize now that booze was an “off” switch for me. I would turn off my feelings temporarily only to suffer more when the feelings came back. It was such an ingrained pattern that it didn’t click in my head that alcohol might be part of the problem. After all, I didn’t drink as much as a lot of other people. In fact, my tolerance was rather low.
One of many things I’m learning now is that how much I drank was less relevant than why I drank. Now that I’m experiencing what it’s like to feel better I realize just how terrible I was feeling before. Not only terrible but disconnected.
The more I tried to understand my feelings the more I felt like I was drifting away from myself. I would be out having a normal day with my family and felt like a fly on the wall, watching them and thinking “They would be better off without me.” As the disconnection grew and the alcohol “off ” switch proved increasingly ineffective, the only possible escape seemed to be to simply go away. It didn’t feel like I needed to keep living. That’s when I knew I needed help.
When I last wrote I had just taken the first steps to getting healthier. I quit drinking and found peer support, sought out the professional advice of my family doctor and started taking medication to calm the mental chaos. I also learned how to be more open and honest with my family and others. Now I’m creating a network of people I can trust and healthier ways to recognize and respond to my negative triggers.
My life hasn’t been easy. The loss of my mom as a young girl was a crushing blow. But I never thought of myself as clinically depressed or traumatized, or imagined I would ever have suicidal thoughts—until, of course, I did. Fortunately the fear of leaving my loved ones behind was stronger than the need to escape my pain. I know I am lucky to have had that saving voice inside my head. Perhaps I knew from losing my mother that dying would not eliminate my pain but instead transfer it to those who love me.
What I didn’t know before was that when I reached out for help it would be there. But it was and it is. We are not alone.
If you or anyone you know is in crisis call the National Suicide Lifeline at 1-800-273- 8255 to speak to someone and get confidential support 24/7.
(0) comments
Welcome to the discussion.
Log In
Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language.
PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK.
Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated.
Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything.
Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person.
Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts.
Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.