Testimony of a wonderfully talented and gentle soul

It is scary how subtlety addiction can settle into your life - so slow and cunning that we barely notice it until it is too late. By the time we start to experience real life consequences the denial defences have been so well established that we can never call addiction for what it is - a cunning, baffling and devastating illness.

Below is a testimony of an alcoholic who through hard-work, perseverance, faith and trust has managed to crawl her self out of the deep dark hole of her addiction and to redefine herself and re-establish herself as a kind, soft hearted gentle soul. She is so gifted and talented and shines in such a humble way. We are so blessed to have been able to walk this journey with her.

Although it was a tough walk there is now light at the end of the very long and dark tunnel. There is now a world of endless possibilities. As we walk together through recovery we can all now make positive impact on people around us and the world as whole. The future can once again become bright.

Testimonial

I always identified my brother’s death as the point at which I fell into active addiction. It was the point at which I believed I started to use alcohol to numb my emotions, to escape. Looking back now I can see how my addict behaviours played out from an early age. My brother died 4 months before my final degree exams and despite my descent into heavy drinking from this point I completed my degree. I got a good degree, I held down a stable job, I paid my bills, rent, had money to go out, to shop, to take holidays. I had friends, a social life, people wanted to invite me to parties, I went on trips, I attended family functions. On the face of it I was leading a “normal” life. In the background I had already become controlled by alcohol. I went to work and counted down the hours until I could have my first drink, if anything got in the way I became agitated, frantic, irritable. I had to stop by the shops to buy alcohol every day to make sure I wouldn’t run out and even this was torture as my guilt over the quantity I was buying forced me to shop further and further afield and to avoid shops if the same person was working on the till from the night before who might recognize me.

At work I became paranoid that colleagues might start noticing that I repeatedly came into work hungover and stinking of booze so I developed the persona of someone who was always at parties, knocking back bottles of wine with girlfriends over long evenings when in reality I was at home alone drinking with the curtains shut in practical darkness. I tried and tested how much I could get away with drinking before it left me broken by the next morning. I needed to start drinking as soon as possible after work, on an empty stomach, drink fast to get the maximum effect, then eat before passing out. If I screwed up and drank too much without having set up a prior justification for turning up to work still half cut I had to call in sick or fake an appointment until I could sober up. 

It only worked for so long. For one reason or another, never explicitly due to my alcoholism, I lost or had to leave jobs. In hindsight I was not functioning properly or at all. I was not up to the job no matter how many excuses I told myself; the economy, toxic relationships, stress. When I wasn’t working I was much much worse. I would lock myself in the flat I lived in alone for weeks, only venturing out to buy alcohol. I would avoid having to speak to people. I had to time when I spoke to my parents so I had drunk enough to force myself to sound ok, normal, functioning but not so much that I sounded over enthusiastic, too talkative and I had to write notes to myself of the content of the conversation as I began to get more and more memory blanks. When I initially wasn’t working I would make the effort to look for another job, seem enthusiastic, make all the right noises, appointments, network contacts but I soon couldn’t even cope or motivate myself to carry on normal everyday activities. I lived in a pig sty, I was a wreck, I barely ate or washed. My routine became a cycle of waking up and having my first drink, I’d start on vodka but with a mixer initially, it would stop the shakes, leave a wash of calm, relief, release from myself and I could escape the reality of the hell of my own mind. This would continue into a numbness towards everything and everyone in my life, I would plateau into a state of calm oblivion maintaining a steady pace until I passed out, the ultimate goal, escape. I would come around and repeat the cycle only interrupted by a need to go to buy more alcohol, God forbid I would ever run out. I was in and out of jobs but the cycle continued, I got by barely during the week when I was working and the weekends were a blur of being in and out of drunk consciousness. I didn’t notice it at the time but over the years I became more and more isolated. Socialising became more and more of a nightmare. I think sub-consciously I wanted to maintain some semblance of normality, of having friends, socializing -which had the added bonus of legitimizing my drinking. But it was hell for me. I became so anxious I had to drink sufficient quantities before I could see people, so I would turn up half cut, lying about seeing friends before I arrived. I had to hide plastic water bottles full of vodka in my bag to sustain my drunken state because people around me drank too slowly and I became panicked if I started to sober up on any level. Then I was so worried about people questioning my drinking I tried really hard to remain “with it" in company and as soon as I could I would leave early knowing I could go home to my safe place to drink alone. 

 My flat where I lived alone became my safe place and my prison. I hated to leave it, I lived with my own fears, anxiety, paranoia only subdued and numbed by vodka and benzos. Sometimes, in the brief moments of sobriety I thought about the quantities I was drinking but I never contemplated asking for help or trying to stop. I’m not stupid, I knew I had a problem but I had been drinking over a decade and it was part of my life, it became my identity. I couldn’t see past the next bottle. I didn’t worry about what it was doing to my health. I didn’t notice what it was doing to my relationships or even care enough to notice. 

In 2016 I lost my last job. I was a mess. My life was completely unmanageable. It was a relief to be free from the only constraint that held me back from drinking. My parents were the only people I maintained contact with but they were lost to me, our relationship was so broken by my distance, my behaviours that only superficial contact remained. I chose the path that ruled my life, escape. I moved continents to travel the world alone with no plan, no purpose, no motivation. I spent 3 plus years moving from country to country, hostel to hostel, making temporary acquaintances. It was an addicts dream, I had no-one to check me, I was surrounded by people as broken as me, no-one to judge me, no questions. My addict self ruled my life without constraint. My physical and spiritual well being was defeated. I felt nothing. I was numb to any emotions. 

Finally my parents gave me an ultimatum. It was the bottle or them. I agreed to come to rehab believing I would “show willing” for 3 months, placate my parents and be on my way again. I had no intention of stopping, no desire to change. I honestly had no conception that my life had any kind of negative impact on anyone else, especially my parents. I truly believed I had protected them from everything. In my mind I had kept myself and my addiction way from their life. I had survived independently financially, I masked any fears, I believed I presented a self sufficient person in all regards. I arrived at Jahara following hospitalisation for a second seizure, a result of my alcohol abuse. I was stubborn, defiant, withdrawn, isolated. I refused to actively participate in groups, to contribute, to share. Gradually I found myself integrating without even realising. I can’t pin point a specific realisation or a “light bulb” moment, but somewhere down the line everything I had learned and come to understand about myself, my behaviours, addiction, started to fall into place and my thoughts and behaviours began to change. It took me a long time to get to that stage. I’m told there was little change until 8 months in but then alcoholics are notoriously stubborn. When I was asked recently for just one thing that recovery has given me I said:

“my self respect”.