Chapter 20: Carrie

Seven hundred and thirty days. Twenty-four months. Two whole years. And what a difference these two years had made. My life has been far from ‘picture perfect’, but one from which I have learned a great deal.

A lot has happened since I have been sober. In many ways, my life is hardly recognizable from what it had been, and I have to force myself to stop to appreciate this. It’s almost like there’s so much to do, so much lost time to make up for, that I just don’t pause to consider how vastly different it all is, or how vastly different I am.

I think back to Day Zero. The day Ernie had found me lying on the floor in a puddle of my own vomit and pee.

Now, I realize how easy it had been for drinking to evolve from social lubrication to self-medication. You start off drinking at times of celebration. Then, you begin drinking for relaxation. Then, commiseration, apprehension, and agitation. Before long, you’re using alcohol to deal with any emotion at all.

Life is not easy. Modern society makes it even more difficult, with all the pressure it provides to be perfect, to do everything brilliantly, to be successful, to become a high achiever. My family history hadn’t helped, at all. I used to be so intimidated by my father. I had never confronted him with my feelings, because I had been too scared. I had just kept quiet and drank to numb myself.

I had sent my parents a long email telling them what I had gone through. They never wrote back. Maybe, one day, I’ll get to talk to them and explain things in person. Maybe not. But I have let go of all my negative feelings toward them.

The infernal internal monologue in my head is finally over. It holds no power over me.

Those Steps that had once frightened me, are now complete. I feel at ease and want to keep this feeling.

I continue to make amends wherever I see people whom I had harmed (and boy, did I see them often).

I used alcohol as a coping mechanism, a crutch. But when you get used to drinking to numb your way out of tricky situations, you get to the stage where you’re unable to cope with them in the raw. You’re unable to cope with almost any situation in the raw. You become more anxious, more fearful, more depressed. You stop growing and start retreating. Your world gradually becomes smaller and smaller.

One thing I have learned is that when life throws you lemons, the last thing you need is alcohol.

You would think that, given all that, the decision to stop had been easy. Far from it. I had been standing at the edge of a brink, and ready to jump.

Two years ago, I had been terrified. My drinking was out of control, and I was about to lose everything that mattered to me in my life.

It had been my husband and his well-meaning intervention that pulled me back from the abyss. My love for him had been, and is stronger than my love for alcohol. That is what saved me.

I know not every recovery story is like mine. I count myself among the few lucky ones.

I’ve listened to many horror stories, grieved a few deaths, and witnessed several successes.

Alcoholism destroys relationships, marriages, families, and lives. I never forget that it could have been me.