Reader Stories

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us chose to remain anonymous

The very first mind altering drug I ever did was nitrous oxide, or as my dentist would refer to as; laughing gas. I would almost be happy to have cavities because I would look forward to that big rubber nose they would place on top of my actual nose. They would tell me to breath only with my mouth and to not inhale through the nose. Needless to say, I would rely solely on the airflow of my nostrils as I took every bit of the inhalent I consciously could. It would come up fast and I would find myself in the dentist chair spinning in circles a hundred miles an hour. It would spin and spin as each sound wave would penetrate my ear drums shooting an echoed muffled sound around me in a infinite black space of nothingness until it landed on a giant chess board which appeared out of no where and that’s where they would unfortunately  always ended the fun. I’d say that this was most certainly my gateway drug and although I may have been happy to have been told I had cavities so that I could experience this wacky state of mind, my mother and father on the other hand most certainly weren’t. 

     It wasn’t much longer and much sooner then I thought when I was a teenager. It felt like an eternity oddly too. The first night I smoked a cigarette which was a stolen Pall Mall blue out of my friend Alex’s mother’s pack when I was just twelve years old or so. That same night I had panty raided a girl. I had no idea that after which I was going to find myself crying until I went to sleep because that poor sixteen year old girl who lived next door to my Alex, did not deserve to have two sick perverted little boys break into her room through her window when she was away where ever she was away at that night. That night I learned a life lesson I will never forget but not quite explain that still sticks with me.

     Alex was my best friend growing up as a teenager and we would always hang out. He lived ten miles away but that never stopped me from riding my bike there or even walking sometimes. He on the hand would usually avoid such exhausting voyages as he was a little bigger then me and didn’t feel as up to it like my scrawny self would be. One time me and Alex did ride our bikes to a town called Trashland that was located ten miles also so that he could buy a ‘M’ rated game for me. We were both only fifteen at the time but Alex had a beard and despite our age, he wouldn’t get asked for his identification.

     I smoked my first joint at age fifteen with Alex in his backyard late one night. His mom called us inside right after and I was stoned and scared she was going to be able to tell. I thought I was going to die when I finally made it through her security into my friends room where I ate food all night as if there was no such thing as getting full. 

     That same year and age I drank what was soon to be one of my biggest problems and that was alcohol. Well, wine to be specific.  I was spinning in circles acting like a clown and had refilled the rest of the wine bottle back with water because I couldn’t let my mom notice. Soon after, me and a friend from the Catholic church we went to who was also named Alex but for the sake of lessening confusion, we will call Greg; began trading beers, cocaine, Vicodin, psilocybin mushrooms and the like after church outside by our parents car while everyone was still inside socializing after mass. Greg’s mom hated me because she seemed to think I was Satan or something, though I never really cared. 

       Now, whenever I was a child, it was never a life of luxury aside from the laughing gas. I watched my mom get the shit beat out of her several times and it hurt. My mother filed for divorce when I was sixteen and I probably should of mentioned the fact that I was homeschooled before but I went from being homeschooled to public school. 

     My mom moved to a town called Blandsville in West Virginia and I lived with my dad in Trashland, Ohio. This moment in my life was one of the hardest parts of my life. I missed my mom being around so much that I do believe it was a heavy influence that took a turn for the worst in my life. I was recording and writing a lot of music and I even recorded a few albums dedicated to this.

     My dad put our old house we loved in newspaper listed as for sale as my drug use started to get worst and worst. My one brother moved to London, England and got married to a British lady. My second brother moved in with a lady in Orlando, Florida and she treated him like complete shit and I know that he was losing his mind too. My only little  sister chose to live in West Virginia with my mom and every time she would come around, I would lose a friend of mine in Ohio because they would always chase my sister around and cross me.

     I started using the drug dextro-amphetamine very habitually and I would stay awake two or three days at a time quite regularly for a couple years.

      Eventually, I moved to my mom’s with my sister and my mother’s new boyfriend named John in West Virginia to finish high school. Apparently school in West Virginia was easier and that was rightfully so because I graduated with ease. I even had a girlfriend sometime in there but she didn’t last, and she cheated on me a gazillion times unfortunately. I never quite understood why someone would cheat.

     During the summer whenever I was twenty years old and staying with my dad’s for the summer time, I had got accepted into a college in Fairmont, WV to live. 

     Something Inside me said that I should pick up drinking alcohol as my new favorite drug. Speed and I haven’t mentioned that over-the-counter cough medicine containing the chemical dextromethorphan were my current favorites. Don’t ask me the cough medicine was but I was bad on the stuff. I began drinking heavy while at my dad’s before I had to move to the school in Fairmont and just about every single night while my dad was at work, I would have about ten to twenty people over and throw big parties outside in my dad’s barn. The barn eventually coined the name, ‘Tayler Pitmint’a Party Barn.’ 

     I would slice my arm open and once even saw the bone, put cigarettes out in my arm, climb the T.V. antenna and hang at the top with one arm or sway it back and forth, bust windows out with my fist spraying blood everyone, pour gasoline on fire, start a fight with everyone; I had completely lost it at this point.

     Finally though, I moved into a college dorm at the end of the summer by myself.  I made a best friend named Trav there the first day by asking if he was old enough to purchase alcohol. We went and got a Maddog 20/20 each down the road and drank them behind a dumpster. Trav and I were an odd duo to be best friends to say the least. Trav was a black guy located from the West side of Washington D.C. in the ghetto and was very street smart and smoked two very large size blunts at a time . One time me and him broke in a dorm window and stole a laptop and later sold it at a pawn shop after I took the password off.

     My drinking got worst and I would constantly wake up with a fat lip or a black eye. It was almost always rough and I hated in. 

     Eventually, I got kicked out of that  college at the end of my first semester after getting a couple underage drinking charges and jail time. I never saw Trav again. I sometimes sit and wonder what happened to him and realistically I feel like he probably ended up going to prison for something like armed robbery. He would always tell me stories of things he did in D.C. and would tell me about the racist cops and how his friends would of probably honestly killed me just for being white.

     I jumped around from Ohio at my dad’s to my mom’s in West Virginia a lot. My drinking got worst and my cough medicine use was spiraling out of control. I went to a twenty-eight day rehab program for the cough medicine but I never took it seriously. At this point, Alcohol Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous started becoming normal things I was being forced into doing.

     I moved to Florida whenever I was twenty-three with my brother and that is where I had completely lost it. I decided I no longer wanted to be alive on this planet. Low key, I started to lightweight try to kill myself every day by doing things taking cottons inside benzedrex inhalers and eating them thirty coricidin pills. I lived in constant anxiety. 

     Eventually one night whenever my brother wasn’t home, I snapped. I took 4mg Xanax and 20mg Ambien and started blanking out. Then I drank a five ounce bottle of delsym and walked to a Walmart and stole thirty-two coricidin. 

     While walking out of the store, the alarms went off and I ran from Walmart police and hid in a burger king bathroom and took them all. I had also drank a four Loko. 

     I walked home to my brothers and that is where the first time I died at. I woke up three days later in a orange gown and had to be watched twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for fifteen days until they transferred me into a psychiatric ward where I stayed for three days.

     I have been to two of these places but had stopped because I learnt out of probably one hundred hospital visits for overdoses that whenever they ask if you want to harm yourself or tried to, you got to lie to avoid that  part. When I got out of the one in Orlando, I had no shoes and just a bus pass. Having no idea where I was, I sat on the bus for around six hours drinking cough medicine again until I saw a street that had looked familiar. I will never forget the hell of all of that.

     My brother finally kicked me out one day because he could no longer put up with my bullshit, and I was in Orlando with no where to go. My mom was worried and called the police on me and the police found me and gave me a ride to a Grey Hound bus station. There was one problem with this situation, I didn’t have a bus ticket. I had to have a strange lady pay three hundred dollars for a ticket so I could go home.

    I moved in with my grandma in Creston, Ohio and my uncle lived there. His name was Larry. I began using a needle and doing heroin. After overdosing in someone’s lawn and suffering from kidney and liver failure and a leaky valve in the hospital, I stopped doing heroin mostly. A cop had found me face first in someone’s lawn in the middle of the of the night and had saved me. I still dabbled in it from time to time after that.

     I went back to my dad’s and that’s when I started doing meth amphetamine. I started snorting it and that was my preferred route for a whole year. I had lost my mind during the year and eventually I was a twenty-six year old adult and I was about to be homeless. That is when I checked into a long term rehab. It was that or the streets.

     After being in a rehab in Wooster, OH, they caught me drinking the cough medicine and kicked me out and sent me to another rehab in Massillon, OH. There, I had done a line of meth and drank a bottle of cough medicine and I had a reaction where I couldn’t pee.

     For some reason, the staff in the middle of the night decided that they were going to drug test me, and I was not going to pass, but I was also not going to be able to pee. They staff tortured me and I believe that to this day. They didn’t believe me my bladder wasn’t allowing me to pee and forced me to drink water for three hours until I had to pee so badly that it had to come out but not normally at all. Then, they purposely messed the drug test so that I had to do it all over. I sat for another two hours and I lost it and told them to go fuck themselves. 

      That next morning during a morning chant type thing, I still could not pee and a staff member was yelling at me and I ran out of the room and had a massive panic attack  I couldn’t breathe and ambulances had to come and I was being kicked out of there. Did I mention the fact that it was Christmas day and the drug testing was Christmas Eve?

     One of the weirdest things happened a few hours after my panic attack. Someone I was in rehab a couple months prior who had gotten kicked out randomly called because,  God had told him to. To this day that will always puzzle me and I have never been a very spiritual person. That is scary that it happened though and he had no idea any of that had happened. 

     When I left aftering being kicked out of there,I had moved into a sober living house. And that is where I met a girl named, Binkee. Binkee was a black girl has been with me since.

      I started doing meth again but even worst though. I have been using with a syringe this time around and I have been for a year and a half. I have been in Canton, OH and that is where I am at now. I really want to quit but I have not quite gotten there. I have to quit because I feel it taking a toll on me. Something deep down tells me I am going to, though. And that there will be another part of this that is good news. I cannot wait to write that part and I am sorry to anyone who wanted a happier ending. I will be back.

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us is Matias.

Recognizing yourself as an alcoholic is not easy. Often others notice it before oneself, when they see your red nose or half-closed eyes, the worn skin, the swollen face, the shaking hands, the hesitations…

Hello, my name is Matias. I was a pretty lonely kid. I was quiet, wise, intelligent, but ruled by fear. When I went to school and saw other spontaneous children who played, did mischief, who had no problems making friends and I was envious, because I spent recess alone, or with two other children who, like me, “stood out” for being quiet and invisible. I lived trying to show the world that I was worth; I dreamed of glory and fortune, because deep down I felt that I was worthless. I was trying to be perfect; to get good grades, which was not a problem for me, to be good at physical education, which was a tremendous problem, and to excel in other areas such as singing or dancing.

When I was thirteen, I decided to write a book about my life. I started writing it several times, but I abandoned the project because it seemed to me that no one could be interested in the life of an invisible young man like me. When my classmates started having girlfriends, I became more isolated. I couldn’t connect with those feelings they were talking about. The predominant feeling that I experienced was pain. Whenever I tried to feel something, I felt pain. Pain for my life, for my situation, for my loneliness and my shyness.

One day, at fourteen years old, at a party, I was left alone, sitting next to snacks and drinks, while the others had fun. I decided to try a shot of brandy. Most of my friends already drank alcohol, but I had never tried it. It tasted horrible to me. It entered me like a reverse cat clawing all over my esophagus. It was one of the most horrible sensations I have ever had in my life… followed by one of the most beautiful sensations. After two minutes, the music did not seem so strident, boys and girls did not seem so unfriendly, I began to speak naturally and spontaneously, I was even funny!

That night I danced, I talked, I interacted, I joined in, they told me that I had sharp and hilarious notes, well, I found what I had been looking for all my life. It was love at first sight. For the first time I did not feel alone. For the first time I was not the wrong boy. Not only did I feel like I belonged, but I felt like I was the center of attention.

That night I came home and asked myself how I could have gone so long without having known this magical elixir. How could I have survived so long without that wonderful liquid that quenched the thirst of the soul. I wanted to drink it again as soon as possible.

From that moment on, I felt perfect. I was a good student, good at sports, good at many other things, and finally I excelled at something I had never been good at in life: socializing. Every weekend they invited me to meetings; I received phone calls, I stopped being the lonely and studious boy, to gradually become a kind of leader. My most secret dreams were coming true. At that time, it never occurred to me to think that the remedy to all the problems in my life would be a few years later, the cause of all my problems and the origin of my downfall.

How did that happen?

My parents, both children of alcoholics, didn´t like my open love for alcohol. They told me that it was not good to depend on alcohol. They even took me to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting where they read me twelve questions and I came to the conclusion that I was not an alcoholic. It was clear that alcoholics had problems due to alcohol. On the other hand, I was a good student, loved and admired by all my friends and I felt that I had no problem. I went to college and continued my alcoholic career. I still didn’t feel like I had problems. Other problems came to me, but at the time I said they were due to factors that weren’t alcohol. For example, my girlfriend got pregnant. We were young and we didn’t know what was coming. We decided to get married. We believed that with the love we had for each other, we would overcome all adversities. Now I think we could have done it, if it hadn’t been for my alcoholism getting in the way. I was not emotionally ready to live with someone and share. I loved my wife dearly, but was unwilling to stop going out with my friends on the weekends. I didn’t want to quit smoking, I didn’t want to stop playing loud music. My pregnant wife started complaining to me. I felt that she had become intolerant and irascible. Over time I have realized that she was maturing and preparing for the change in life that having a baby in the house involved. But I was another baby and didn’t understand. My son was born and I felt the infinite love that one can feel towards a son… and a few months later the marriage ended.

I felt the infinite sadness, the devastating loneliness and finally had an excuse to drink as much as I wanted, without anyone bothering my life. I wanted to die. I had no reason to go on living. I felt a pain that didn’t even allow me to breathe. My soul ached from the time I got up, until I went to bed. I wanted to be asleep or anesthetized all the time. I started drinking alone. I drank to start the day, to go to class, to go to work, and to sleep. I started with a cup of milk with a little brandy when I got up, which gradually transformed into a mixture that contained more and more brandy and less milk, until I ended up drinking a full glass of brandy to start the day.

At that point I had already lost control, but I still needed to lose much more to “hit bottom.” I finished my career with great difficulty. It was never difficult for me to learn. What was difficult for me was getting out of bed to fulfill my obligations both at university and at work. I punished myself by not attending the graduation ceremony. I claimed the diploma at the window and kept working and dying inside. Meanwhile, my son grew up without a father who, with the excuse that the pain would not let him move, did not bother to create bonds with him.

Some time later I lost my job. Despite everything, I was very good at my job. I felt underpaid and exploited, so I thought that this could be an opportunity to do something better. At the time, I thought I had lost my job because of a restructuring and not because of my alcoholism. However, I have realized that although I was very competent and did my job very well, I was also confrontational, and was not a good element within the team.

My life as an unemployed alcoholic began. I got a sex addicted alcoholic girlfriend who quickly moved in with me. While I got a job, we lived and drank from what they gave me as a settlement. We drank until we were brutal any day at any time. We spent days and sometimes even weeks locked up, drinking, not bathing or dressing, having sex, and ordering drinks and food at home. I can’t deny that I enjoyed it. However, in the midst of my unconsciousness, I couldn’t help but think that I was wasting my life and that this was a life without meaning or future.

Economic ruin inevitably came. I had to move in with my parents again. At that moment I decided to ask for help. I never heard from my girlfriend again. She had to be drunk and having sex all the time, and when I went to my parents, it was no longer a good match for her. I came to Alcoholics Anonymous ten years ago. Since then I have been abstaining and have lived the best days of my life. Just by quitting drinking, my life improved in every way. But I decided not to just stay there, because the program promises much more. It promises that I will live happily without the need to drink. It is not just stopping. The biggest prize is in being happy.

During the process, specially on steps 4 and 5, I have realized that I have the tendency to engage in any kind of compulsive behavior to escape my reality. My underlying problem is the fear and pain that this fear produces in me due to the inability it generates in me to react, to set healthy limits, to make myself respected; and my life can be divided into stages in which I have had to use crutches to overcome fear, and stages in which I have blindfolded myself so as not to see that I am being ruled by fear.

To overcome fear I have used alcohol, caffeine, energy drinks, psychiatric medications, pride, false feelings of superiority and any type of stimulant. All of those take away my natural tendency to lie in a fetal position on my bed. In order not to see that I am being governed by fear, I have taken refuge in compulsive sex, on television, on the internet, in the arms of my partner on duty, in food, in compulsive procrastination, in perfectionism, in finally, anything that makes me feel good; doing what I felt I had to do to grow or get ahead.

Whenever I was isolated or leaving my actions for later, as long as I stayed in my comfort zone, I was most likely being ruled by fear. And whatever behavior I was compulsively executing, it made me feel good to continue in denial.

At first I thought I had a congenital tendency to be addicted to everything. Now, in recovery, I have realized that my problem, like many people’s, is fear. Now I believe that I have had a great advantage in hitting bottom with alcohol, because this has led me on a path that has allowed me to begin to see myself inward. Many of the people who have pointed their finger at me as an alcoholic ; that they have accused me with their poisonous tongue, they have lived all their lives governed by fear, unable to realize what is causing them to eat compulsively; to stay locked in their homes watching television; to postpone decisions and actions, unconsciously precipitating their own failure; to hide in your comfort zone; not to fight for their dreams; to die frustrated feeling a disappointment to themselves and to the world.

Sorry… By saying this, I see that I must continue working to heal my resentments. Many of those who have tried and convicted me will have their reasons for doing so. I have made mistakes and I am not a saint, but I must focus on myself. To repair the faults I have committed and not to commit the same faults again. In the part that I can fix. With resentment towards others, I am not making any reparation, neither to them, nor to myself. Resentment prevents me from seeing my own faults. It makes me look outside, distracting me from where I should put all my attention, from the root of my illness: my own fear!

There is a feeling of total human failure in admitting that one is an alcoholic. A feeling made of shame, guilt, rage against oneself and fear. What will I become from now on? What have I done, how could this happen to me?

In my opinion, alcoholism is an irreversible chronic disease of extreme severity . Still, it is possible to get ahead. But for this to be possible, a first step is essential: that the alcoholic assumes his condition and makes the voluntary decision to rehabilitate. Assuming it took me almost three years of lies and excuses, of secretly drinking, of trying to hide bad breath and symptoms of drunkenness. Now I can ensure that the effect of alcoholism is a gradual decline of the soul, but over time it gets faster and more notorious, until reaching its complete destruction. One day I remember asking myself: Can´t you just simply get out of your situation? No. The alcoholic is a person dominated by a substance that overrides his will and, therefore, his capacity for discernment and perception.

The lies, excuses, the disrespect, the tantrums and emotional blackmail are the favorite tools of an alcoholic, and they are used in a manner so abusive that they become a way of life. I was no exception to this, and that is why I can assure that it is no exaggeration to say that the life of an alcoholic person may seem like hell. Why so much liying? Because his will has been abolished, the alcoholic is essentially a fearful person, and the first of his fears is none other than his condition being pointed out. The alcohol is socially present almost everywhere, and apparently everyone knows to treat it without losing control. The image of an alcoholic in the collective imagination is that of an outcast.

Anyways, one day the “click” happened, as many rehabbed or rehab alcoholics call it, that moment of lucidity, of strange, desperate and blessed lucidity, in which you finally say it. You say to yourself: yes, I am an alcoholic. I am an alcoholic and I need help.

For the first few days, my body’s reaction to the cocktail of drugs that I had to take to withstand the abstinence syndrome was concentrated in my legs, which couldn’t stand me. The impact of seeing myself in a center for alcoholics, in pajamas, supported by a walker, will not fade for years that I live. After 15 days I felt strong and free, for the first time in a long time, I felt as if i was “born again”.

However, detoxing is still just another first step. The real work starts after this, which is not only to live without drinking alcohol, but also, and above all, a steady and unwavering, vital learning. Once the abstinence syndrome has gone, the phase of rehabilitation begins, which lasts about two years. The alcoholic must be fully aware that he is living with a sleeping monster, and that the monster will wake up again with just a drink.

It is necessary not to get carried away by the euphoria of recovery, as much as not to fall down with the feelings of remorse, guilt and shame. In return, alcoholism offers a fast and certainly gratifying recovery: a few days after being discharged from detoxification, my physical appearance had visibly improved, as did my mood, the ability to express myself, my eyes, and body language. I had also regained clarity and mental alertness, as well as my appetite and taste for food, and within a few months my vital organs (swollen liver, triglycerides and transaminases, high blood pressure) had returned to normal.

I know that the pain that I have inflicted on myself and others can only be overcome with time and love, the same kind of love that was given to me and that saved me from my collapse. I know that tomorrow will begin another day, and from the bottom of my heart I thank myself once again for feeling the need and the joy of wanting to live.

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us wished to remain anonymous

4 years and 2 months. That’s how long it’s been since I last drank. Believe me when I say this: it was not easy. It was a bumpy road with lots of ups and downs. But I got through it in the end. And you can too.

It all started when I was 19. My first year at university. I remember my first day, thinking ‘This year is going to be awesome’. I couldn’t have been more wrong. At first it was great. I was going to parties every week, playing video games until the early hours of the morning and eating as much junk food as I liked. I was just about keeping on top of the work. Soon, Christmas came around, and there were lots of parties going on. Which also meant lots of alcohol and drugs. But there was this one party I still remember today. 

It was a big one, at this swish house and it had everything you would expect. But I didn’t expect to wake up the next morning in a police cell. Apparently I had got really drunk, and when some cops came round after the neighbours complained, I was caught red-handed doing drugs in the front garden. Soon, I was kicked out of university, and was forced to get a job. The only places that would take me paid minimum wage. Still, I didn’t have a choice. Fast forward a year, I was doing a little better. I was in control of myself a lot more, I was renting a comfy flat, and even had a girlfriend.

I was driving back from work one evening, and it was pitch black and raining hard. I was frustrated after a long day at work and I had a thumping headache. I drove through the high street, eager to get home. Suddenly a young girl stepped out into the road. I slammed my brakes on but there was just not enough time to react. I waited for the police to come and the ambulance. I was breathalyzed on the side of the road and eventually allowed to go home.

I struggled to sleep that night, my mind wondering what happened to the girl. I must have hit her at 30mph. I woke up the next morning and one of the stories on the news was that a girl had been hit last night on the high street. Hit and run they said it was – which wasn’t true but made me feel bad all the same. She was in a critical condition. I felt numb. What had I done? Later that day they announced that she had passed away.

Did I cause this? It was ruled an accident but I can’t help think could I have done something differently? Should I have been going slower (I was already 10 miles under the speed limit due to the weather)? Did she not see my lights?

The next few weeks were a blur for me. I can’t really remember much. It was just getting up, drinking, going to work, and then drinking more. I didn’t want to remember. But it was so hard, especially driving past a bunch of flowers laid out where I had hit her. Then I lost my job. I was drunk on duty. So now I just sat at home drinking all day, miserable. I wanted to make it better, but I knew it was already too late. Soon after my girlfriend left me as well. It was like one of those t-shirts you see, where it says ‘Eat, Sleep, Game, Repeat’, or something else instead of ‘game’. Except for me it was just ‘drink and sleep’, and the occasional eat.

It was only when I went to the off-licence one day did I realise how bad of a state I was in. I went to pay for my next 6-pack, but my card was declined. I tried my other card. It turns out I had no money left. This left me wondering. I knew my life had gone down the toilet, but I had to try and fix it. So I stopped drinking alcohol. Not just because I had very little money left, but also because I wanted to improve my life. I started going to meetings at my local church. But it wasn’t easy. I had lots of sleepless nights, craving for a drink. I got another job. I read books and articles about how people had quit drinking. I all started to help me a little, that reassurance that I can get better. I began to find that if I focused my mind on other tasks, for example work, I would think less and less about wanting to drink. Soon I was one week sober. Then two weeks. Three weeks. One month. With each week going by, it felt as if I was scoring a little victory. And it felt good, knowing that I was improving.

I tried to see my success in the future, just like athletes do in sport. Where would I be in 3 months? I imagined myself leading a normal life. Going to work, having lunch with colleagues, coming home, making dinner, going for a walk, sleeping without waking up in a pool of sweat, craving a drink. That’s what I hoped for, anyway.

Over the next few years things kept getting better and better. I got myself a better job in accounting, and I had also shed a lot of excess weight I had gained from drinking. One thing I found that particularly helped me was going for jogs early in the morning. Not only did this help me to lose weight, but it was relaxing because of how quiet it was, and it helped me focus, and by the time I got home I was fully awake and ready to start my day. Another method I have used that I found (although many people consider it to be ‘cringey’) is looking in the mirror when you wake up and say aloud to yourself: ‘I will not drink today’. And I say that five times. To me it really helped, but I know that some won’t find this useful. The thing about all of these ‘how to quit drinking’ guides, is that no person is exactly the same. So if you follow the advice in there, what I found is that some of it doesn’t work. So my advice would just be to try everything, and if you are unsure, talk to someone. Just remember, you can quit drinking.

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This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us wished to remain anonymous

“I have a problem” it takes a lot of courage to say those words out loud, and even more courage to say it to others. I myself only had enough courage to say it to myself, but the problem with only admitting it to myself was the fact that I refused to get help. Refusing to get help from others makes it harder for yourself because detoxing at home without medical aid is hard.  Before I go in-depth on my recovery, I guess I should tell you how I became an alcoholic in the first place.

For years I struggled with the fact that I was lesbian, sure my family was accepting, my friends were accepting, but deep down I was not accepting of myself. It began in middle school, I started to notice that I had feelings for women, and being a woman myself the whole situation scared the crap out of me. I tried to be “normal” and no matter how much I tried to like guys it just didn’t feel right, that’s when the depression started to settle in. At that time I was lucky enough to have school to focus on, so I didn’t think much of it. The main thing that helped me was band class; it kept me focused on something that I was good at.

When High School came everyone wanted to do band, and there were some amazing musicians. I felt as though my skills were horrible as compared to all of the other people, and even though I auditioned and received high marks, I dropped out of band because I felt I was not good. That was the only thing I enjoyed, so I focused on my grades, I got high honors and sometimes the stress of keeping up with grades made me go crazy! The stress started to get to me, so eventually, the temptation of drugs was there, but I was too afraid of getting in trouble and arrested, so I ignored anyone offering me drugs, that’s not who I was.

By the time I was in college I thought I was past my depression, my grades never fell below a B, I had an amazing girlfriend, I was the leader of the college’s LGBT club, I had a large group of friends. At that time I thought I was happy, and I actually was. When graduation came, and we all went our separate ways, the depression hit extremely hard. I missed what I had in college, I knew that I would not be able to go back, so I tried to find new friends, that’s when I started going to the local gay bar after I turned 21.

The first night at the bar was amazing, I met a lot of new friends, and since it was my 21^st birthday I had strangers buying me drinks left and right. I remember the taste of my first drink; it was a tropical drink that was served in a small bucket. The drink had around 7 different types of alcohol in it, but it tasted so amazing that you couldn’t even taste the alcohol. I had 5 buckets that night, followed by some beer and shots, I felt amazing, people were talking to me, and at that moment I felt like I belonged somewhere. The next day that amazing feeling died down, and the depression came back. I hated the constant feeling of depression and wished that I could just go back to how I felt the night before.

I went back to that same bar the next night, and that night there was a drag show, so I decided to stay for the show. As I was watching I noticed that all performers would get free drinks on the nights that they would perform. At that time I thought it was a sign, all I had to do was perform drag and I would get as many drinks as I wanted, it was fun and I got to feel amazing while doing it. I did that for a few years, it was to the point where I would drink 8 buckets, 3 beers, and 10 jello shots every working night, to me that was normal and I never once thought it was an addiction. I never thought of myself as an alcoholic till I started hanging around a group of people from the bigger town over. They wanted me to move to their town to perform at the bars up there. I jumped on that opportunity to move from my small town to a bigger town, that’s when my drinking became a major problem.

It seemed like that almost every night we would have shows, and it soon became a tradition that we would have pre-show drinks, which then lead to drinking during the show, then lead to after-party drinks. It felt amazing, and I loved every moment of it. It seemed as though my depression vanished, but it didn’t. I was just masking it behind the drunkenness. The night that I realized that I had a problem was when we were at a bar. This man started a fight with us, and normally I would not even fight back, I would just go to the bouncer and tell him we are having a problem. This night though I was heavily intoxicated, so my judgment was not there, and honestly, I don’t remember what happened that night, all I remember was the smell of blood and running out of the bar. When I was away from the bar I heard sirens, then looked at me and noticed that I had deep cuts on my arms and hands. My friend later told me that I had used my beer bottle to hit the guy, it broke in my hand which caused me to get cut in various places. The guy was ok and only had a slight cut on his head.

After that night I realized I had a problem and that my “friends” were nothing but enablers. I started to look into detoxing programs, but after reading about them I knew that I would have to tell someone about it to help me. I didn’t want my family or friends to know that I was getting help. I decided that I would take matters into my own hands and detox from home, at first it sounded like a great idea but honestly, it was the hardest thing I have ever done.

They say that it takes at least 30 days to get rid of cravings and addictions, so I decided that I would buy enough food and snacks to last me the whole 30 days. I decided to start on November 1^st, it may sound cheesy but I wanted to be sober as a Christmas present to myself. I had my last beer at 11 pm on October 31^st, then I drank about a gallon of water that night, I thought that it would help me flush my system. When I got up the morning of November 1^st, I felt like I was achieving something, you know that feeling when you start a diet and go for a mile walk and you feel like you already look like a god? Well that’s how I felt, it wasn’t until 10am I started craving a beer. Normally I would have a beer every time I woke up, and the craving was heavy, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and that’s when I noticed my mouthwash. I was not even past my first day and I was already desperate enough to drink mouthwash, I didn’t by the way. I took a large trash bag and purged my house of anything that had alcohol in it, I even threw away markers, spray paint cans, and medicine.

I read that it’s best if you decide to sit in a room and distract yourself with reading and tv, and even try to go over on why you became an alcoholic. I didn’t want to do any of that, all I wanted to do was sleep.

A few days passed and I didn’t feel any better, I was nauseated and I was extremely agitated. Every sound felt as though it was poking my brain with a cattle prod, which then eventually caused me to throw up. I had no appetite, the idea of eating anything would cause me to throw up. Normally if I was detoxing in a facility I would have a nurse checking on me every 2 hours to check my vital signs and to make sure that I was ok. So it scared me that I was alone, I could pass out and choke on my vomit and no one would know, at least in enough time anyway.

I felt alone, and by this time I wish I was at a facility. At the facility, they have group meetings, and they can talk with others and get support from others who were going through the same situation. I was going to go, but I liked the idea of being in my own home, so I decided to stay. I took this time to reflect, and all of my deepest emotions started to surface. I felt like a failure, I became what I never wanted to become, but at the same time, I felt a small tinge of pride that I took the leap to get better before things got really bad. Eventually, I wanted kids, and I would never want my kids growing up with an alcoholic for a mother.

After a few more days the physical symptoms started to go away. I was still feeling drowsy, irritated, and shivering all of the time, but the severity was getting less and less. I noticed that my need to drink came from the fact I could not handle stress all that well. I learned that every time I would get stressed I could calm myself down if I started writing or doing something creative.

I still never felt normal though, I tested my own vitals and my heart rate was through the roof, then the thought of “one drink could settle it, one drink could make me calm down” I thought that for a few hours till I actually looked through the internet of my phone and found that the local liquor store offered delivery. I broke and I put an order in. I got drunk that night, and as I was drinking I was crying. I knew I messed up, I knew that this would not have happened if I had chosen to detox at a proper facility. I was so angry with myself, but I knew that I could do it, but I couldn’t do it alone and I still wanted to do it at home. I broke down and called my friend that I have known for almost 20 years.

She didn’t judge me, not at all, but she wasn’t nice to me either, she is a hard ass and I knew that with her help I could stay on track. So I started the next day again. It seemed as though the symptoms were worse this time around than the first time that I tried. The headaches were horrible, and I started to throw up immediately. My body ached so bad, it felt as though my skeleton was trying to jump out of the skin!

5 Days had passed and I was starting to do a little better, I wasn’t as agitated as I was the first time, and honestly, I was starting to feel amazing. I ate my first meal in a while, it was McDonald’s, but the greasiness of the hamburger made me feel so much better. Day 7 came, and I didn’t even think about alcohol, I learned how to cope with the stress, and it helped to have a friend around to talk to and watch movies with. Never underestimate the power of how good a company can affect you both in positive and negative ways.

I have been sober for almost a year now, and honestly, I would never look back. Though I know detoxing at home was difficult, I think for others a facility would be a much safer environment.     

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The author who sent this story to us wished to remain anonymous

Chapter 1: Dealing with an alcoholic reality

My story is not any more different from any other stories from people who had an alcoholic parent. But it affected me in many ways in my life. When I was just a little boy, everything was alright. I had the best parents in the world, both were very caring. One situation, however, changed my and my mother’s life forever.

Mother found out that my father has had an affair, not once, not twice… she had an emotional breakdown because she loved him very much. I will always remember the sweet days, when they were happy together. When they were happy, I was happy as well. My father then left us and myself and my mother were left alone. 

She started to drink. A lot. It happened when I started attending school. It affected me in many ways. I have always been a happy kid but after this incident, I became emotionally drained. Because my mom did not care about me, I felt like I am alone in this world. I could not make any friends. All the children thought I was weird and did not want to talk to me. Some of them started to bully me… I did not know where I am happier… if it is at home, where my mother is always drunk or in school where I don’t belong.

My mother used to tell me I am ugly and that I don’t deserve anything good. I don’t want to think about it in any more depth as it affected me a lot and I don’t want to remind myself the emotions I had because it affected me a lot. She was so drunk and depressed all the time. She lost her job and when I turned fifteen, I tried to find some part-time job so that I help her out a bit. Thanks to that experience I have grown strong. I never stopped loving her as I knew she loved my father so much and that incident broke her completely. I was confused in my early years, but I also had understanding grandparent, where I used to live from time to time when my mother got angry and started smashing things… glasses of alcohol, painting on the walls, everything.

Later, the situation got better a bit. I could not go to high school as our financial situation was not very good, but I managed to find myself a good job. My grandparents supported me, and we tried to help my mother together. They moved in my mother’s apartment and tried to help her out. What my mother needed was apparently a company because she has been left alone as I did. My grandma wanted to move in years before but could not because my grandma has had some serious health problems.

When I turned eighteen, my mother got a new job and started looking fresh. She hasn’t touched alcohol in the past four months, and we were all happy for her. My grandparents had to move out from her house because she found herself a boyfriend. He was brilliant, he was very caring and helpful man. My mother was feeling happy again. I started attending high school and things were looking to go well. And it seemed that all the past will be marked as just a scar on our hearts. But I was so wrong.

She found out the man cheated on her and then she dumped him. She started to drink again. What was different this time was that her father died so she was drunk constantly because of it. She left her job again and was left in despair, hopelessness, so was I. I had a girlfriend but had to break up with her because I needed to take care about my mother, and I had massive mood swings. I was a grown man and I thought I can deal with this problem a lot better this time, but I was so wrong about this as well.

This situation was a nightmare. She had terrible states of mind. She now felt alone more than ever before because it happened to her for the second time in her life and she thought it was her fault, that’s she wasn’t good enough for them. I was reassuring her that both my father and the new man weren’t good partners for her and that it is certainly not her fault, but she didn’t feel any better. Since I was older now, I tried to communicate with her on a mature level and reassured her that I will always be there for her as she is my mother and I love her. But things were worse also because she lost one of her parents and that seemed to break her even more than her cheating partner.

I had a job, so I tried to bring as much money as possible, but it did not make any things better. I started to drink as well because all the childhood trauma finally affected me in the worst way possible. My personality is a lot as hers, we are both very melancholic, seeking for a loving partner. I have it due to my lack of emotional support from my parents in childhood and I know she was in similar situation where my grandpa, who has recently passed, was an alcohol addict as well.

I lost my job. Now our financial situation was horrible. We had to sell our house and we had to live on street for three years. That was the worst part of my life. You cannot imagine the dirtiness, terrible physical appearance of me and my mother who turned sixty by then. We were talking to random people, asking them for money. I was telling this story in a shorten version and a lot of people fortunately felt sad for us and gave us a lot of money. I managed to stop drinking completely and tried to find a job again so we can rent an apartment. I wanted to completely remove this era from my life.

This somehow also changed my mother, she realised that she had everything even when she thought she lost everything. She lost her husband and boyfriend but most importantly she lost herself in the process. After this experience, she tried to stop drinking, which was quite hard for her in the beginning, but she found an inspiration in me. I had a job again and we could finally rent an apartment. My mother managed to quit drinking completely.

Then, before she has passed, we had a longsome discussion. She told me that what really helped her was the loss of our apartment and pride. We had to live on streets and that changed her, and she realised many things. She felt very grateful that I was there for her as well, we had this terrible life experience together… she then felt sorry that she wasn’t a good mother to me especially when I needed her the most. I told her that I understand her and that I think that if I was her, I would react just the same. 

There is a thing for you people. Even if you think you have lost everything, you will realise how wrong where you when you really lose everything… your house, your pride, your humanity. Be grateful for what you have because you could lose it any time. My story is not unique, it could happen to everyone.

Chapter 2: Detoxing at home

Years before she has passed, she had to stop drinking completely which was a long process. Before we move to the period, when we both bought a new apartment and stopped living on streets, there were many attempts to quit drinking alcohol before, but they were all unsuccessful. I remember that one of the most promising was when my grandparents moved in our apartment.

As I mentioned, my grandpa had serious addiction to alcohol in the past, but it was cured by his wife, my grandma so she was quite experienced with dealing with an alcohol addict. However, my grandpa’s reason why he started drinking was quite different. He started to drink because my grandma had a terrible car accident and she almost died in hospital. My grandpa loved her so much that he could not imagine his life without her. When the doctors told him that she probably won’t survive, he started to drink alcohol daily, and carried on even when grandma survived and got out from the hospital.

She tried several methods she used to do with her husband, my grandpa. She tried to hide all the alcoholic drinks she spotted and when my mother found them anyway, she was then throwing all the bottles out. But this did not change a thing. My mother simply went to a store and bought herself a ton of new bottles and hide it from my grandparents. She also became very angry towards my grandma and my grandma was sad because of it.

She tried to reach out to her and tried to discuss it with her, but my mom was so self-defensive and passively aggressive that my grandma usually started to cry in the process. I tried to calm her, but she believed she can’t help my mother because she lost her mind a long time ago when her husband left her for another woman. But I believed it was because she did not know how to talk to my mother as they did not understand each other when my mother was younger.

My grandpa also tried several techniques. He tried to talk to her in a more empathic view. He told her that’s okay she lost her husband, but she has to be strong and take care of me because I am the only one who will always stay with her as she is my mother. It seemed like this method could help but then my mother got so upset and told her father that he doesn’t know a thing about her feelings and her situation and that he simply doesn’t know how to help her and he never behaved like a father would. He then told her that she is not allowed to say that because she doesn’t behave as a mother.

I also tried to help her out. I wanted to seek a professional help, but my mother was strongly against it as she told me that she is not addict and that she doesn’t have any problems. I did not believe a word she said but when I started drinking as well, I realised an addict person really doesn’t allow himself to believe that there is something wrong with him, that he is addict. No, the addict people always believe that they are well, that everything is alright and that their sibling are just paranoid or worse – it’s all their fault!

Many years passed and we ended up on streets. Both miserable… without a job or a place to stay. My mother then realised that there really was a problem with her and that she was so blind that she did not realise it earlier. Just when she lost her apartment and everything, she gained the clear wisdom. We both realised that there is no cure, no ability to detox successfully at home because people just can’t and won’t allow themselves to think or believe that there is something wrong with them.

My mother’s brother, my uncle was also an alcohol addict, but he did not make it and passed away. I can say that he drunk himself to death. His story was quite different than ours, but he is another example of the truth that you can’t detox from being an alcohol addict at home. All the people have to seek a professional help. Their siblings have to tell them there is something wrong with them and they have to make them to believe it as well. 

The addicts have to realise it. I know it’s difficult. But my mother told me this: “I know that I was mad when you talked to me and tried to help me out and I did not listen. But now, I want to thank you for it because without you, I’d be dead years ago as I’d end up as my brother.”

Talk to your siblings who are addicts and tell them you are there with them.