Chapter 3: Carrie

I scrubbed the living room floor clean twice and got rid of the rug. It was ruined. Then, I took a long shower and rinsed my mouth with Ernie’s mouthwash. Mine was filled with alcohol. I put my stinking clothes in the washing machine and waited for my husband, drinking one cup of coffee after another.

What if he didn’t come back? What if he had already left me? I went to the bedroom to check if Ernie’s clothes were still there.

My legs and my hands were shaking. I was dying for a drink, but I forced myself to stay sober.

When did this nightmare start? How did I get to this point?

I had my first drink in high school in my senior year. It gagged me at first, but the warmth and feeling of well-being that seemed to flow through me was wonderful and gave me the feeling that I could do anything. All my problems disappeared. I never had that same feeling again, though I tried hard and long to recapture it.

I moved out of my parents’ house to go to college and never looked back. Walking away from my dysfunctional family and my controlling father was a relief.

Drinking became a regular part of my daily life at college. While sober, I appeared shy and uncomfortable, withdrawn and serious. I was afraid to do or say the wrong things. My father’s words resonated in my head, ’You always disappoint me ... You need to be perfect.’

The truth was, I never felt comfortable in my skin. I had a giant void inside me from a very young age. A voice telling me I wasn’t good enough. I was unworthy of being loved. The real me was a sad, and scared little girl looking for approval.

It didn’t take me long to realize that having a few drinks not only silenced the voices in my head but helped me to loosen up. Laughter erupted around me, connections deepened, and I became the life of the party, and made people laugh. I was no longer the girl who didn’t fit, scared to do or say the wrong things.

Alcohol became my passport to a world of freedom, a realm where insecurities dissolved.

I spent much of my college life treating alcohol as a tool to boost my confidence. Having a few drinks was the secret key to transforming my insecure and unloved self into a social butterfly. Everyone around me was doing the same, so I saw nothing wrong with it.

Somehow, my drinking didn’t interfere with my studies, and I never failed a class.

Every time I came back home, I had to clean up my act and play the part of the dutiful, obedient daughter. If my father saw something different in me, he never mentioned it.

After college, I got a job and moved out of my house and out of my father’s control for good. He ranted and raved, but I didn’t care. He finally sent me a letter through one of his lawyers stating that he had disowned me. I wouldn’t get a cent more from him. I crumpled the letter and threw it away. Not being judged all the time or pushed to be perfect was more important to me than money and wealth.

My drinking was reduced to social gatherings and girl’s night out.

I dated a few men, but I found no keeper until I met Ernie. He was loving, caring, and nurturing. He showered me with his love, and I needed every drop to validate my self-love. He made me feel I was worthy to be loved.

Ernie became my rock, my sanctuary, my everything. We did everything together. I also fell in love with Middletown, his hometown. We enjoyed camping, trekking, going to concerts, parties, and dancing.

Then, my drinking became a problem again. The voices in the back of my mind said that I didn’t deserve a man like him. I wanted to be the perfect girlfriend because, in my troubled mind, being perfect equaled to being loved.

Ernie loved the woman I was under the influence, not the person I was when I was sober. So, I started drinking again.

I often felt extremely guilty. At those times, I tried to stop drinking, but as the void inside me grew bigger, so did the bottle, and I would retreat into my self-destructive cycle.

As my reliance on alcohol deepened, so did the fractures in our relationship.

Ernie broke up with me two times. And yes, it was because of my drinking, or I should say, because I had tried to stop drinking. Both times, I crawled back to him and begged him to take me back.

One day, Ernie asked me, “Are we ever going to get married?”

I saw the disappointment in his face when I said, “Some day.”

The next time we went out together, he proposed to me on a foggy evening while we were returning from a gathering. Thinking it was a joke, I laughed.

The laughter quickly stopped when I saw the expression on his face.

He was good to me. He cared for me. He loved me. I yearned for Ernie’s love and stability. He validated my worth.

I knew I was going to lose him if I didn’t accept his proposal, so I said yes.

We got married in a small ceremony at his town’s church. I didn’t invite my family. I didn’t want them there, finding fault in everything we did and ruining our special day. Besides, my father had disowned me.