Discrimination Doesn't Live Here

"It will never happen to me." - Famous Last Words.

Why would I think it ever would? I graduated High School with honors. I went to college and earned a bachelor's degree in psychology. I came obscenely close to getting a second bachelor's degree in education.

I KNEW what addiction was.

I was aware of it and why it happened. I studied it for god's sake.

BUT

It will never happen to me...

Right?

Dead wrong.

My addiction knew that. In fact, my addiction was smarter. It knew how to use my education and knowledge in justifying my behavior. It talked me into drinking when I knew I shouldn't. It told me the only way I could ease my anxiety was to have a drink, and then another one. It made me believe I could only get through any sort of social function was with a drink in hand. Then it told me as long as I am alone it's okay to drink whenever I want to and as much as I need to - I am an adult, after all. And finally, it told me I was too smart and educated to be an alcoholic. That it could never happen to me.

It still feels surreal - like I'm not actually living this; it's a bad dream.

Except, its not..

In addition to being brilliant and stoic, addiction possesses a characteristic I wish more humans would embody - it doesn't discriminate. It doesn't' care about the color of your skin, what job you hold, what kind of family you come from, how attractive you are or aren't, how much money you have, or how smart you are.

Since getting sober 5 months ago I have not met one single person that addiction hasn't touched in some way.

My first drink was the night of my senior prom. A bunch of us boycotted the actual dance and had a house party. We had a blast. I didn't black out and was in full control, but at ease. It was a new world of confidence with endless possibilities of social gatherings that I could attend and no longer feel uncomfortable or socially awkward. I am an only child and grew up spending a good deal of time by myself. After "senior prom" was graduation, followed by the summer after high school & before college. I was headed to a 4-year school to play college basketball in the fall, so having a job the summer before wasn't realistic and was the last hoorah with my high school mates before going off into the real world. Even then, drinking was confined to the weekends and/or whatever concert, or birthday party came up.

It was fun. I was fun. I might have even been called funny on more than one occasion. My self-confidence was boosted. And I was invincible.

It would continue this way throughout college - I transferred back home to a state school but still was serious about my basketball career and beyond, so drinking was still limited to the weekends or when we didn't have a game the next day. I didn't know it then, but looking back now, my drinking escalated my junior year when I tore 4 ligaments in my knee, one of which being my ACL. I didn't play basketball for a year, underwent surgery & rehab, and became addicted to prescription pills to sleep and deal with the pain. Thankfully I was able to wean myself off of the pills before it became a serious problem, but my sleep situation never recovered. I realize now that I replaced the pills with alcohol, desperate to get a good night's sleep and with no repercussions I knew of, not being able to play basketball anyways. Drinking seemed more acceptable than pills and was something I felt more in control of, ironically.

Fast forward about 15 years -

I had made a name for myself in the restaurant business, working my way up quickly from server to bartender to management. Alcohol was everywhere and had been my life for years - between training and learning and sampling. Going out to other restaurants was a hobby. I studied their menus, evaluated how their space was set up, and judged their waitstaff. And my network was HUGE. I no longer needed a resume to get a job - it was all word of mouth. I was set for life...

Until the day I swore would never come. It could never come. Because addiction could never happen to me.

It was a Tuesday. I was at job #2 of the day serving tables at an Italian restaurant. The shift started off pretty normal, but busier because we were understaffed. All of a sudden, I woke up in an ambulance in the parking lot. My partner was standing at my feet and talking to the paramedics. I don't remember passing out, or falling on the ground, or having a gran mal seizure in the middle of the restaurant. All I remember was her telling me this and I lost consciousness again. I woke up in the hospital in a bed with the pads on the side that you would see in a psych ward on a tv show. Apparently, I had another seizure in the hallway waiting for a CT scan, with my partner sitting by my side, helpless. I don't remember this either, but I can imagine the scene, and I can't imagine what it was like to be in her shoes in that moment. The fear, worry, and pain she felt that night will torture me for the rest of my life.

I spent 5 days in the hospital and despite almost dying, ended up having an obnoxiously clean bill of health. There was no explanation for the seizures. Except detoxing from alcohol. I laughed when they told me. I told them they were wrong. I could have written a five-paragraph persuasive essay as to why they were wrong - well, my addiction could.

The next 6 weeks were a white-knuckled storm of emotions, pain, and anxiety. I didn't share with anyone how I was feeling, how hard it was, or how scared I was. I didn't tell anyone how petrified I was to go to bed at night, afraid I would have another seizure in my sleep and never wake up. I would go days without sleeping, which, if you have ever experienced that, becomes a level of psychosis. I thought about drinking for a few weeks before I picked up a drink. I was too afraid. But the farther away from nearly dying I was, my addiction gained the strength to convince me that it was less and less real. I finally started drinking again. Most normal people I would say would have never touched a drink again, let alone 6 weeks after a near-death experience. At that point it was game on. I wasn't working, was getting state assistance and had an inordinate amount of time on my hands. The acceptable time to start drinking went from 5pm (courtesy of Jimmy Buffet) to 11am. Time then became elusive. And I told no one.

Six weeks later, I finally broke down and told my best friend. I had tried a couple times to detox myself but unbeknownst to a lot of people, alcohol is one of the only substances you can die from if you try to detox alone, and detoxing can cause seizures. I was having panic attacks every day I tried to stop. She drove me to a detox facility that night, where I stayed for 3 long days. I then checked myself into a Partial Hospitalization Program at a facility near my house, that I stumbled upon by pure proximity but what I stepped on was a goldmine of love, patience, support, and much needed coping skills. I have been in group therapy for the past 5 months and it was the best decision of my life. I know my addiction will never leave me. I know its also not my fault. I have started to develop the armor I need to battle this disease, but even after 5 months, I have barely touched the surface.

Today I am sober, am incredibly grateful, and have an immense amount of hope. If I can do it today, I can do it tomorrow. One day at a time.