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 wished to remain anonymous

My first introduction to alcohol was when I was 15. I was at a party at my soon to be boyfriend’s house. I drank cupfuls of wine and tequila and got blackout drunk, throwing up everywhere and passing out. I remember feeling sick for a week after that but it didn’t put me off. My drinking through my teenage years wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, the usual teenage rebellion type of thing but there was an edge to it. I was always the one who wanted to keep going, to have one more drink.

When I was 17 I started working at an upmarket establishment where important people could have their meetings, lunches, dinners etc. It was there that I met Josh, he was a chef. Even though he was 15 years older than me I felt drawn to him. The first night we went out, we went to a rugby game. He snuck us into one of the boxes. We drank of course and after we left the game, we went to score some meth. Now I had dabbled in weed, smoking it fairly regularly but this was my first time with hard drugs. What can I say, I enjoyed it! We smoked it out of a lightbulb then went to meet my friends in town where we carried on drinking.

This soon became a regular thing. I hung out with Josh more and more. Lying to my parents about what I was doing. Every weekend we hung out we would be drinking and using meth. It was around that time that one of Josh’s friends came to stay bringing with him a different type of buzz. He had morphine pills. Josh and his friend had used it before, but I hadn’t and I really wanted to try it. They injected it straight, I remember begging to try it too but they only allowed me to take it by mouth. The effect took a while to come on but it was beautiful. So calming and relaxing, like I was floating in a dream.

It wasn’t long before I was ready to inject it. This time instead of just crushing the pill and adding water, we went to a dealers house where he cooked it and turned it to heroin. After that, I was hooked. First it was once a month as a treat, then it was every weekend, soon it was everyday as if I didn’t have it I would feel sick. Alcohol was the fire starter. I would have a couple of drinks then instantly crave a hit of heroin. This carried on for a couple of years. I went through desperate cycles of stopping but not being able to stay stopped. It was a dark and miserable time in my life. It got to the stage where I knew I needed help so I went to rehab at age 21.

Rehab was a good experience. It was an 8 week inpatient course and I really enjoyed it. I slipped once on a weekend trip home but then went back and continued on to graduate. A week after I left I was back into drugs again. I think I only lasted that long as I went to Australia with my family. My drug use spiralled and I ended up in a relationship with my dealer. It was extremely messy, and extremely toxic. He cheated on me constantly but I couldn’t leave, I was trapped in addiction. When I was 23 by some miracle, I got pregnant! Absolutely the worst time it could happen. I didn’t go to the Dr until I was 6 months along, I was terrified. I ended up on the Methadone program and had a healthy baby. I was extremely lucky he turned out so perfect. I stayed with his dad for another year or so until the cheating just got too much. My son and I then moved into our own place.

A few months later I became friends with Andrea who was also on the methadone program. It was a toxic friendship from the start. Until then I hardly touched alcohol but that changed until I was drinking 12 plus cans of vodka cruisers a day. After a few years like this I had had enough and decided to move cities, my parents were moving back after years overseas so I wanted to be close to them for support.

Getting away was the best decision I could have made. It was just me and my son but we were happy. I felt free. I was still on the methadone, but was reducing my dose slowly. I still drank but not to excess and not all the time. I lost a lot of weight and looked and felt the best I had in a long time. After being a solo mum for 6 years, I went on tinder to try and meet someone. I went on numerous dates, some good, some awful! I ended up meeting my now partner. From our first date we were smitten. However, my drinking was creeping up again and had been slowly for a while. As my methadone decreased, I was subconsciously drinking more to compensate. I talked to my doctor who referred me to an outpatient clinic just up the road from where we lived. I completed a 12-week outpatient program of 2 meetings a week. I also attended counselling sessions once a week and saw a naturopath. It was at this time I realised I couldn’t keep drinking. It was becoming very problematic and I was drinking 2 bottles of wine a night.

I made a date to stop with my counsellor and I stopped drinking the day before that date. I actually don’t recall if I saw my doctor around that time. I know to stop drinking suddenly can be extremely dangerous. I think I spoke to the naturopath and made a plan with her. I took N A C powder to help with cravings and a kava tincture to help with my anxiety. I still went to work etc and carried on with everyday life. In terms of physical symptoms, I felt nauseous and had an upset stomach. My anxiety skyrocketed and I cried uncontrollably often. My partner was incredibly supportive and stopped drinking with me. I don’t think I could have done it otherwise. Although I hadn’t seen my doctor, I stayed in close communication with my counsellor and naturopath. The products I took from her really helped in those early days. I didn’t attend any AA or NA meetings at that stage. It took a good few weeks for me to feel somewhat normal. I experienced intense sugar cravings which I hear is normal. To be honest, that period is a bit of a blur. My partner broke his neck around a month before a stopped drinking so it was an incredibly stressful time. Looking back, I don’t know how I got through it! But I did, one day at a time.

It was quite a different experience detoxing it at home as opposed to in a rehab centre. I feel like I definitely had more intensive support in rehab. They gave me sleeping pills to help me through the withdrawals. I made some good friends who were going through the same things. We had classes everyday talking about PAWS, relapse prevention, looking after ourselves. We also had individual counselling but I didn’t really click with my counsellor. We had to attend an AA or NA meeting every weeknight which I found helped a lot. We had to do chores, do the grocery shopping, make a meal plan and we took turns cooking. We had wake up times and bedtimes. The structure and routine was really helpful I found and it got us into good habits for when we went home. I think I was just too young and not ready to quit when I went to rehab. I was 21 then compared to 31 when I stopped drinking. I suppose detoxing at home wasn’t so bad as I wasn’t yet drinking enough for it to be dangerous to stop. The lack of intensive support made it harder, as did having to carry on with everyday life. At rehab I could purely focus on myself and my addiction. At home i had work, kids to look after and housework to do. All while trying to keep it together emotionally. Cravings hit me really hard and I had to white knuckle it through those at home, whereas in rehab I had people around me all the time that could help.

At this current point in time I am 4.5 years sober! I haven’t had a drink since the day I quit in 2015. I am still decreasing off the methadone. I am down to 17mg from 100mg so I’m almost there, it is a very slow process for me. When it comes to the very end I would definitely choose to go into a hospital/ inpatient program. That way I can be medically monitored and have support on hand when I need it. I can also take the time to focus on myself without any distractions or interruptions. I find it a lot easier to be around alcohol now. Not drinking is just an automatic choice. I definitely still get cravings but they are not as severe and I am able to work through them. I still miss drinking; I think I always will. Alcohol is everywhere and is socially acceptable which makes it hard. There is no way I would want to go back to drinking, I am a better mum, partner and person without it. I’m so grateful to be where I am today.

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 Bildad Shiundu

My Alcohol Story Part 2: How I Recovered and Lessons Learned

This is part 2 of a 2 part story. See part 1 here

We are seven siblings, round this up and you have a football team. None of my siblings drink. Neither of my parents drinks too. I always imagine that if my father was not asthmatic, he would probably be an active member of the drinking club. He owns a bar. When I was drinking day in day out, everyone imagined that I was under a spell or something. “Why are you the only member of this family that drinks? Are you under a spell?” My mother would always ask. A neighbor even suggested special prayers. I didn’t have faith in prayers. I dodged them every time that topic was brought up.

I didn’t drink at all the first month I returned from Mombasa. I remember informing everyone that I will never walk down that path again. Everyone was elated. They assumed their prayers had finally cast the drinking spirit away. For the first time in years, my family started giving me money for my daily upkeep. Money I didn’t really need because I was not leaving the house. My mother had put me on a diet to help me recover my weight. I had an internet connection, so I didn’t really leave the house.  I also didn’t like going out because a friend told me I looked like a scarecrow. I didn’t want people to imagine that I had some illness or something.

I used that period to study some online courses. I got a Google content marketing certification. I noticed tech online jobs paid higher and thus started learning basic programming too. The only time I left the house was for church.

After the first month of my return, I was asked what I wanted to do with my life now that I had returned. “Online work,” I replied. At this time, I was often referred to as a ‘former alcoholic’. Deep within, I knew it was just a matter of time. I was giving my body time to heal. Both my parents didn’t like the idea. They said I needed close monitoring. Something online work did not guarantee. My mother recounted incidences of how I used to drink on a daily basis when I worked online. She would always remind my siblings or anyone that cared to listen of how I once peed in the living room. Lol!! It always makes me laugh.

My eldest sister offered to pay my school fees if I enrolled back to college. I welcomed the idea. The only problem is that they were insisting on me doing a course in education. Both my mother and eldest sister are high school teachers. I insisted on doing a course in IT. My wish was granted. I got admitted to a Polytechnic for a three years diploma course in IT. Everyone was happy for me. “Three years is a short time.” I would always be reminded.

New School

I joined my new school two months after I returned from Mombasa. I had the motivation and will to study and earn my certificate. My class was full of 18 and 19 year olds. We didn’t relate much. I was always alone and didn’t make many friends. 

Soon, boredom drove me to the bar. There was a bar strategically placed near my house. I started drinking secretly.  I used to buy and drink from the privacy of my house. No classmate knew that I drink.  I was viewed as a focused and determined student. I spent most of my time in the library. 

Now, there is this girl I was chasing. A very attractive and curvy class mate. She was my closest friend and home mate. I didn’t know she was dating. I had planned to propose to her after the end of the term.  However, I discovered that she was dating. I didn’t ask her about it. Instead, I walked straight to the bar to clear my mind. To make matters worse, we were doing the end of term exams. 

I was locked inside a bar at 11 a.m. yet I had an exam at 2.00 p.m. I felt heartbroken and wanted to clear my mind. I promised myself that I would only drink one bottle. At the bar, I met an old friend. A drinking buddy I was with in campus. I didn’t tell him that I was still in school. So we drank. He was loaded and was calling shot after shot. I couldn’t resist the temptation of not drinking. I only informed him that I had an appointment at 2.00 p.m. 

Drank in the Exam Room

At a quarter to 2.00pm I regained my consciousness. I remembered that I had an exam. I dashed to school so drunk yet I hadn’t eaten anything since morning. For the first time since I joined my new school, I staggered. My attempts to walk straight hit a brick wall. 

I was the last to arrive in class. Everyone was seated and waiting for the exam. It was an exam on Operating Systems (OS). Everyone noticed my staggering and foul stench when I arrived. I had also been smoking cigarettes too. You can imagine the odor.

“So this guy is so good at OS that he has decided to come drank,” I had someone remark. The invigilator soon arrived. Thank heavens it was an intern I had drunk with the previous weekend in a night club.  

I felt like throwing out and I asked him for permission to visit the washrooms. He noticed the stench and allowed me to go out. I stayed in the washrooms for more than thirty minutes. He was very understanding. He still allowed me to sit for the paper.

I forgot where I was seated before. I loudly asked where my seat was. After finding it, I missed it while trying to seat. I fell on the floor with a thud. The whole class burst into laughter. Exams were going on everywhere. The invigilator silenced everyone. He helped me up and gave me the exam paper and booklet. I could only answer the first few questions on the definition of OS, its history and process. My handwriting was like that of a four year old or even worse. 

I then passed out.  On waking up, I was told to hand in the booklet. I hadn’t even written my name on it. A friend helped me out. He then asked me why I went to school, and on a day I had an exam drank. That is when hell broke loose again. I started Screaming; “Mitchell!! My Love!! Why me!!” I screamed a lot of unprintable words. That’s when a cousin of mine took me to his hostel to sleep. I walk up at seven but still drunk, I couldn’t remember where my school bag was. Apparently I had forgotten it at the bar. I picked it up the next day I went to drink again.

 That day everyone knew me. Not only did they know that I drink, but they also learned I have feelings for my friend Mitchell. Now, Mitchell was very mad at me. I think what made her cool off is that we all went for holidays after the exams. I avoided her like plague during the exam period. I kept a low profile. I lost confidence.

When the results came out, I had performed well in most of the exams. However I got 40 out of 100 in the OS exam. I was the last, but I wasn’t asked to re sit. I celebrated this with a drink.

A good thing that happened is that I started receiving invitations to attend parties and drinking sprees.  I resumed my partying lifestyle. It was party after party. I started missing classes and handing in assignments after the deadline. My performance went down. I wasn’t reading at all

As I gained new friends, I lost some friends too. I lost friends who didn’t like my partying lifestyle. It only worried me when Mitchell not to associate with her in anyway until I quit drinking. She had just lost her dad to liver cirrhosis.  She detested alcohol. But life is so funny, because she now drinks while I don’t. I recently told her that I am now intentionally avoiding her.

During that term, I was selected to represent the school in a national robotics competition in Mombasa. I was very happy about it because I knew I would meet my old friends. I hadn’t drunk alcohol from coconut since I returned from Mombasa. I looked forward to that trip. 

The D-Day came and off we were to Mombasa. The school gave us good money for upkeep. I also had gotten a lot of money from my parents and sisters. Being the last month of the term, I didn’t pay rent. I planned to use that money in Mombasa. The competitions were scheduled to last 6 days. We weren’t going to compete until the third day.  Having lived in Mombasa, I used the free time to show my friend the best Mombasa had to offer. We visited the port, ferry and bitch.

As you can guess, alcohol wouldn’t miss. I had used my entire stipend by the third day. I was now depending on handouts. I had to call my mum and lie that I wanted money to buy some computer equipment. She sent me $40.  I used half of it to pay my debts. On the competition night, I overslept. I missed the bus to the competition venue. I had to use my on means. I had also misplaced my gate pass and hadn’t charged my mobile phone. 

I was denied entry to the venue. That was a blessing in disguise because the school thought I couldn’t compete because I didn’t have my gate pass. Nobody suspected that I had drunk too much the previous day.  In addition, our robot developed a mechanical problem. We didn’t compete. That meant that we had another two free days in Mombasa as we waited for our colleagues who were competing in other exhibitions.

To me, a free day meant drinking. I again borrowed money from another of my sisters. I spent those two days at the bitch drinking my favorite coconut alcohol. The bitch was 10km from the hotel where we stayed. I didn’t bother going back to the hotel. I met with my former colleagues. We drank and partied merrily reminding ourselves of our memorable moments together.

I was again missing in action on the day we were to return back to school. I wasn’t ready by the time the bus left. When our instructor called, I told him I would be spending at my sister’s place for some few days. No body suspected that I was too drunk to wake up. Drinking had perfected my lying skills. I would lie to cover for my drinking or to get money for drinking.

There I was, in Mombasa and stranded.  Mombasa is 500km away from home. I only had $5. That was like a drop of ink in the ocean. The cheapest ticket to my destination was $25. I started thinking of how I would raise that money. 

Then a thought came up. I saw a school bus belonging to a neighboring school. Armed with my school ID, I went to the driver and told him that I had missed our bus. Luckily they were to leave in an hour and true to my thinking, there were vacant seats. Good heavens.

I was trembling that morning. Whenever, I trembled I knew my body needed a drink. I dashed to town, eat breakfast and bought a can of beer. I didn’t drink it at once. I knew, I would miss the bus again. So I went back to the bus and started sipping it slowly. Later, I realized that I only had $1 left. From where this school bus would drop me, I would need another $5 to take another bus to home.  I wasn’t going back to school. The holidays had began.

I knew there was nowhere else I was going to get money. I decided to take a risk. I deposited the $1 to my betting account. I placed a bet on 7 odds and luckily won. I was so happy. Betting always saved me when in need. I have however lost a lot of money to betting. Especially, the bets I place when drunk. I withdrew the money and used it to pay for the other bus. I arrived home safely. 

My mother thought that I would arrive loaded with goodies from the coastal town of Mombasa. I only had my bag of personal belongings. I had promised her that I would buy for her coconut, mangoes and Irish potatoes but here I was with nothing. That was another reason she had sent me extra money while in Mombasa. I told her that I f bought the items but forgot in the last bus I took. She was disappointed because deep within, she knew I hadn’t bought anything. She suspected foul play but didn’t prompt me further.

We were constructing a wall fence that holiday. I spent most of my time supervising the workers. Most of these workers were drunkards, who literally lived from hand to mouth. They would be paid at the end of each day. From our home, they would head straight to the local drinking dens. Our home lies at the center of a  reserve village. We have large farms and no shopping centers nearby. The first bar is located 3kms away. This distance is what used to keep me away from drinking.

I would work the whole day and wouldn’t imagine walking the three kilometers for a drink and back. So, together with these workmen, we would leave to the drinking dens to enjoy the local liquor.  My parents didn’t know that I was drinking. I used to stay in my room throughout whenever drunk. They also thought that I didn’t like the local brew.

One day, my parents left for a funeral to a nearby town. I had some little freedom. That day I went to drink at 8.00 a.m. I went that early so that by the time my parents returned I would be sober. At 12 noon, I was still drinking. It started raining; my mum had aired out her clothes. They were being rained on. I went back home staggering heavily amidst the rain and mud. On arriving at the gate, I saw my mum’s car. Tension rose. My mum had just arrived.

I hadn’t even locked the door when I left. On seeing me, my mother gave me a stare, clicked and walked away. We didn’t talk for a whole weak. I apologized. My dad learnt that I had been drinking with the workers. He removed me from the ‘supervisory position.’ On the second day some workers stole some construction material. On investigation, we learned that one of them sold cement to the drinking den in exchange for a drink.

Hitting Alcoholic Bottom

Few weeks later, I met with the suspected thief at that drinking den. I asked him about it and he denied. So we began drinking. I was buying. I wanted him to confess. I had learned through drinking that drunkards seldom lie when drunk. We drank till late in the night and then I started probing him again. He told me he knows where the bag of cement is.

I was filled with rage. I turned, picked an empty wooden chair next to him and hit him with it on his head wrestling style. “WOOOHI!! WOOOHI!! ” he screamed. Everyone else was silent. The owner of the place held me back. Everyone else left for they thought it would be a police case. Some even thought he was going to die.

This man now had blood all over his head and face. He was writhing in pain and swollen. That is when I called my dad, and informed him that I had caught the ‘thief”. He came to where we were.  This man couldn’t walk and wasn’t talking. 

“Why take the law into your own hands?” my father asked me. “ He is a thief, I replied. I was 27. This man I had hit was almost 50.  I didn’t respect him. All this actions were because of my drinking. My father walked this man to his home. I was cleaned and given first aid.

I went home. I found my mother in the living room. My father had already informed her what had happened. I thought she would be happy that finally we had found the thief. I greeted her and tried explaining what had happened. “Shut up” is all she said. I walked to my room and locked myself inside.  I could hear her shout. She banned from driving the family car. The next day was on a Sunday. We usually left for the second mass as a family at 9.00 a.m. On this Sunday, my mum left very early for the first mass and alone.

On coming back, she found me sweeping the compound but didn’t talk to me. She clicked at my greetings. At that time an old lady of around 70 entered the compound. “Are you the one that wanted to kill my son?” she asked. I was speechless for a moment and told her that her son confessed to stealing bags of cement from the store. She then stared hauling unprintable words to me and even threatened to undress. His son had changed the story and was now saying that he was under duress. He said that I forced him to admit.

My parents and neighbors who had started gathering intervened. It was the view of many (The people’s court) that we were both drunk. My mother gave out money for his treatment. The man didn’t go to hospital. He was seen drinking and boasting that day. We are still friends now, but unlike me he still drinks. He recently helped me to carry some errands at our home.

Later that day, I received a call from my sister. “You are going to rehab” she said. She then reminded me of the terrible things that alcohol had done to my life. I told her I would change but she would hear none of it. I remembered a friend who had recently been taken to rehab. His parents literally called the police, who arrested him early in the morning and took him to rehab. I didn’t want to go through that. I told her that I would voluntarily go when ready.

At that time, my mum started doubting whether I was schooling.  I had been home for only three weeks but she had had enough. She called the school and talked to the dean of students.  My school records were checked. It was discovered that although I was doing fine academically, my class attendance had dropped. The dean was my personal friend and was really surprised by what he was hearing. He told my mum that he didn’t think I was drinking that much. He advised that I start attending guiding and cancelling sessions offered at the school.

I quickly accepted this offer. I did not want the rehab route; I felt that rehab was a prison. A friend once told me that while at rehab, he would be forced to gallop down a jag of water every hour. I don’t know how true this is but it really made me fear rehab. I talked to another of my sisters and told her to convince my eldest sister to drop the idea of taking me to rehab. When my sister heard that I would be attending guiding and counseling sessions every evening while in school, she dropped the idea. the remainder of that month while at home, I was very disciplined. I didn’t drink at all.

 Guiding and Counseling

When schools reopened (for the second year) I was called to the dean’s office. With him was the guiding and counseling mistress: a woman who is in her forties.  The dean asked me about my drinking experience. I told him that I was a social drinker. My story was similar to what they had heard before.  The guiding and counseling mistress told me that recovering alcoholics meet every working day in her office for counseling. I was excited because I knew I wouldn’t be alone. 

I started attending those meetings. Those meetings are what made me recover. At the beginning we were four: three male and a lady. We were always encouraged to speak up. Everyone had a their story. I wish I get to share them someday. All in all of us were alcoholics living in denial. However, all of us had decided to embrace a new change.

Different people would speak to us each day, and that’s when I started detox.  Unlike the rest I responded well to treatment, I only lacked appetite.  Some friends would hallucinate, shake, cry, and so on. Nevertheless we were always encouraged to keep going.  By the end of the term, 25 students had signed up for that program. There is no class I missed, my performance improved. I have never touched again. Two of my friends fell to drinking again, but I talk to them whenever I can.

Lessons Learned

I learned a lot through the counseling sessions. The most important thing is to avoid friends that would lead you back to Egypt again. This made me to quit cigarette smoking too. I changed places I often visited; I also changed friends and moved to a new place, where I currently live. Although it’s now almost a year since my last dink, I quit cigarette smoking 5 months ago. It’s one of the best feelings ever.

Growing up, I always had problems saving money. However six months after I quit drinking, I was able to buy a laptop from my savings. This was a great achievement especially to my freelance writing career. I am typing this from the laptop I bought.

Everyone is happy now. For the first time in my life, I have been paying rent without asking for help from my parents or misusing money meant for food. My house is now full, I have everything I need. Back in school, I was appointed a peer counselor. I was helping with the guiding and counseling sessions before COVID-19 happened.

At home my mother is the happiest. I make sure that I send her 20% of what I earn from my online hustles. I recently sent her $200 as my contribution of a gate she was constructing back at home.  

I no longer feel the urge to go out and drink. I regained weight and I am always clean. There is a big difference between the former and current me. The current me plans ahead of time, budgets, is not sly and committed to a course. I am currently doing various online courses to advance my freelancing career. I plan to work as a freelance writer full time. I am working on my website and portfolio. I have also started to send cold pitches to clients online. I hope that I land a good client soon.

I wouldn’t have made it alone. I am grateful to everyone that stood by me especially my parents, siblings, teachers and every other person for their words of encouragement. I never imagined that one day I would stop drinking and start advising others on how to call it quit and stay positively.

 If you are planning to quit drinking alcohol, you are on the right path. It might appear difficult at the beginning but nothing is impossible. The most important thing is to accept your status. Accept that you are alcoholic and that alcoholism is messing your life. The next step is to talk to other about it. Tell them your desire to change. Set up targets or milestone. For instance you could set a target not to drink for the remainder of the week or month.

Engage yourself with something positive. I get inspired by reading motivational books. These books are easily accessible through the net. Make it a habit to read at least one motivational book every week.  

Another key thing is to remember that bad company corrupts good morals. If you think you are drinking because of your association with a certain group of individuals, avoid them. You will soon meet likeminded friends.  I hope that you find my story inspiring. I haven’t achieved everything I want but at least I am now sober.

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 of this piece is CK Nyakina

PART 1: The Day I decided To Quit Alcohol

I felt defeated, I was at rope’s end. As I sat in that old wooden chair that always stunk of cigarettes and weed, suicide was my only option left, I couldn’t think of any other way. All this pain and guilt within me, there was no way I could live with it. My plan was simple: Using the last money I had left on me, I was to buy some cheap liquor from the store around the corner from where I resided with my parents, get myself drunk and when I was highly intoxicated, cut my wrists and wait for death. That day, I almost lost my life, and it so happens I haven’t taken any liquor or any sort of hard drugs ever since and I don’t intend to. I am glad I survived. And as I would later found out, Suicide, just like alcohol, is no solution to any problem. 

As luck would have it, I woke up the next day with a huge blood clot on my wrist and a lot of blood on the floor, despite the pounding headache that I was experiencing I was glad to be alive. My first thought was to drink some more liquor to numb the pain and push me through the day but I had no money, no job, my parents had cut me off(and rightly so), and any friends that I had had who could lend me money, I had somehow found a way to sever those relationships. My only friends then were my drinking partners who we meet daily at a local bar, I even doubt they knew my second name.

To hide the awful deed I had tried to do to myself, I dragged myself up to the bathroom and took a shower to wash up all the blood I was covered in. I then took my clothes and threw them in the bin. I cleaned the room and threw away the empty whisky bottle and that lay beside the chair I had been in. I was about to head to the bar when my younger sister came knocking on the door telling me I was being summoned by my parents. Normally, I would have ignored her, as I was about to do, but as I was headed to the gate, two gentlemen came to me and stopped me as I was about to open the gate. 

Deep down, I knew who they were, I had been expecting them. A couple days earlier I had borrowed my friend’s laptop, only to pawn it for some liquor money. It was only a matter before they caught up with me. As the two policemen led me to their vehicle, behind me I could hear my sister and mother crying. I could hear my father talking but I couldn’t figure out what he was saying. 

You hear of things people do, stories that seem so wild to you that you never imagine you’d ever find yourself in those situations. But there I was, in one of those situations I’d thought I’d never find myself in. That, is what alcohol does. For me, alcohol has always been like a virus. Like any virus, when it gets into your body, it tricks the body into thinking its part of the body and the body goes on to reproduce copies of the virus and if the immunity is not strong enough or the viral replication isn’t suppressed, it overpowers the body and worst case scenario, one dies. And one thing to remember, one you have a virus, it’ll always be with you. Just like even people who quit, will always have to remind themselves why they quit. 

The first sip of alcohol isn’t the best, it’s bitter and to some, disgusting, still people go for a second taste, and then some more despite it’s unpleasant taste, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes sweeter than the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. As it takes root and starts changing your physiology, your body’s chemical balance is affected and it sends signals to your body demanding more of it, and the more you drink, the more it chains you. And when it’s fully chained you and taken away your freedom to say no it, it now controls you and can do anything to get a taste of it. And that is how I had found myself pawning a friends laptop.

It was my first time in a police cell and if rock bottom had a name, that would be it. I would spend a week in there. I wasn’t always like this but here I was. I had been a top student growing up, a leader, that I had been elected the school captain even. I had been voted most likely to succeed, I had been so good at many things I believed I had a promising future, but here I was, in a cell, with addicts, rapists and people accused of murder and in there I would lose all hope, but it in there also, I would find hope and courage to change .y life. When I walked out, I was never the same man. 

Don’t ever underestimate the power of solitude. While I was always with people who had committed all kinds of acts, the disconnect from the normal world sent me into a rage of depression that I found myself huddled in a corner alone most of the time, sometimes tears dropping from my eyes. It was in there that I truly felt alone. I felt the world was against me and it was out to punish me, I felt like the world was picking in on me for choosing to live my life the way I had chosen. I wanted to die, I wanted to not feel the pain, I wanted to sleep and never wake, I sometimes had this fantasy where I would wake up and find out none of this was true but a bad dream. I wanted to drink alcohol and feel great one more time, but none of that was possible. 

The third day my rage had cooled and I was beginning to have a cooler mind. I had this anger inside me to punish the world for all it had done to me. To revenge against my parents and siblings for letting me stay in a cell instead of bailing me out. To revenge against the world for letting me suffer. But I also had this motivation to rise and show the world I can be better that they were thinking. I had this anger to never feel this desperate again. To never feel such hopelessness ever again. To never feel like I need to depend on anyone or anything to survive. 

The fifth day as other lay sleeping, I was thinking how I’d gotten to that point and everything went back to alcohol, but even deeper I would realize that the reason I drank was to numb my loneliness, to numb the failures I had taken in life, to fit in with people and hide the ugliness that I thought I represented. I drunk because it made me forget eliminated my self esteem and made me an egomaniac. I drank because when I was sober, I somehow never felt complete. But then I would realize I never felt that way before I tasted my first liquor. And the desire to fix myself was so overwhelming I swore never to drink until I had fixed my mental and emotional problems. When I was released I was angry at everyone. I wasn’t talking to anyone, but I directed that anger towards self recovery and that’s how I found myself swearing never ever to drink again.

PART 2: Slipping Back Into The Drinking Hole And Relapses

Remember when I told you alcoholics who quits always have to remind themselves why they quit? The reason is because of relapse. When you forget why you began the journey, you are bound to stop the journey, when you forget why you quit, you might just relapse back. Before I finally quit, I found myself relapsing more often than I’d like to admit after promising myself to quit drinking. At the back of my mind I always knew alcohol was a problem, but like most people it’s hard to resist honey when you had a taste of it. 

I remember this one time I quit 3 months before I asked myself why’d I stop drinking and the brain being mangiest is capable of getting rid of painful moments to the point of making you forget about them. The reasons for me quitting weren’t as powerful then as my mind deceived me into thinking I needed alcohol again. I have since known better. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic, I have always believed that, and I tell anyone who vulnerable to alcohol addiction to always remember that fact. 

In my efforts to fight my alcohol addictions, I did trying cheating the system by thinking that maybe if I limited my drinking, I’d be ahead of the curve, but boy was I wrong. I kept on adding on to the limits and before I knew it I was down the slippery slope that alcoholics always find themselves in. Another thing I did try was trying to drink on specific days only in order to be productive in other days, but that never worked either and as you would know by then, I used to anticipate each Friday and I’d spend the whole week thinking about it and when it came, I’d drink as if I wanted to finish all the liquor in the world. 

They when alcohol comes in, start running, because if you don’t, you might never leave. The truth is while I did try to quit alcohol and failed before, I never stopped to work on myself and discover why I always felt like crap and depended on alcohol for my happiness. 

I always knew alcohol was bad for me and that fact had been made clear by the anti social behavior I exhibited while drunk, but still given between sobriety and liquor, I always chose liquor. And I can tell you right now from experience, if you rely on anything, anything at all to make you feel better, you are going to end up in pain. For me, I happened to do that with alcohol and the thing is, as long as you are searching outside yourself, that thing is never going to be good enough.

No matter how much I drunk, whenever the liquor left my system, the sorrow swept back in. And that prompted me to take more liquor and the cycle kept going on, the only way for me to change was to break the cycle, and that meant, dealing with whatever shame that I had within me and always took me back to the liquor in order for me to feel complete. It’s the lies they we tell ourselves that are more dangerous, even more so when we believe them. And I was just beginning to believe I would never be able to break free from alcoholism. 

The more you relapse the more powerless you feel about your self control and if you fail just long enough, you are bound to give in to that lifestyle, that’s why I have always believed some people are never lucky to breakthrough. I quit several times and several times I relapsed to the point I stopped trying and sometimes it takes more for people to quit, for me it took hopelessness before I could begin climbing up, others it takes divorce, bankruptcy, and the not so lucky, only death is able to stop them. The bottom line remains, if you can’t quit while you are ahead, you are headed to a crush.

PART 3: Staying Sober

I remember sitting with my friends in a bar the other day and after ordering water, they both ordered cold beers of Heineken, and as the waitress walks over and holds the perfectly cold bottles with dew rolling down the bottle neck, I felt a certain surge to drink one. The waitress went on to open the beers and I could hear the pop sound that is produced when beer is opened, followed by a hiss and a waft of the beer hits your nose. My throat went dry and I felt like drinking just one beer and not drink again. Every fiber in my body wanted that. I was salivating as my friends drunk their beer. The water in front of me became tasteless and all I wanted was a taste. Realizing the temptation was overpowering me, I simply picked up my coat, told my friends I was going to bed and went home and started reading a book and the next day I woke up happier I hadn’t fallen prey to that. That’s what some days will be like and it’ll take a lot from you to say no. Some days you won’t think about alcohol at all. Some days you will obsess over it, but the trick will be not drink for just one more day and those small wins are all that make a difference in our world. As the days pile up, the confidence grows bigger, we trust in ourselves to make the right choice and before you know it, you’ll be looking at alcohol with so much contempt you’d want to throw up if it found itself into your mouth.

It’s hard to miss alcohol when it’s celebrated everywhere, it’s even hard to avoid it when it’s advertised as if it is essential in life as water. All around you, people, the media and even your friends are telling you to find a reason to drink. Drink because you are happy, drink because you are sad, drink because you are feeling the way you are feeling, alcohol is advertised as the solution to everything. You can’t go a kilometer without seeing a liquor advert and the people in it are enjoying life, so why not you?

Remember why quit. 

Sometimes I sit and remember all the things I did while drank, and I cringe. As my confidence has been growing bigger in me and learning to trust in myself, I have been freeing even further from the chains of captivity that alcohol threw around me. And I don’t forget the fact that I am one drink away from becoming a mess. I have always believed I would have been better if I never found alcohol or If I would’ve quit earlier, but I am happy for the experience alcohol had given me, I am happy I was able to pull away before it could completely ruin my life. 

I always remember a drinking buddy of mine who died because he drunk too much one night and drove and drove right into a tree and into his death. It could have been avoided, He wasn’t so lucky I say, I have a second chance to make things better in life and I remind myself of that every single day. All the things I’d always wanted to do, I follow through and life is easier, I am more free and light without the alcohol weighing down on me. And I appreciate the fact that I get to experience life in a sober state. I no longer wake up and ask what I did the other night and that has made a huge difference in the world. 

The hardest part quitting for me came when I had to clean up the mess I had created. Taking responsibility for all the mistakes I had made. While it was hard owning up to my transgressions, it felt better correcting my wrongs, people are easy to forgive if you show them you are truly sorry and mean it. I remember when I was drinking I would say things I didn’t mean and that took away the respect most people had for me, to gain back the trust, I had to earn, and that journey towards sobriety and staying sober, is the only way to lead a disciplined and happy life. 

I’ve learnt to enjoy life without alcohol, I have learnt to be happy without depending on anything, I’ve learnt that happiness was always with me. 

After all the drinking I have done, when I quit, it’s like I started seeing life in color after spending all my life in black and white. 

Finding a purpose has been my greatest strength, rediscovering my passions and actively pursuing my purpose to help people deal with depression. After I quit I was able to finish college and will soon be enrolling for clinical psychology in order to be in a position to help people more. I now seek and am attracted meaningful connections. 

I now realize how I never needed alcohol to socialize, to loosen up, to cover up my loneliness, we don’t really enjoy alcohol, it’s the social interactions that we do and if we are honest enough with ourselves, we can enjoy those interactions without the need of alcohol. 

It takes commitment to stay sober.

PART 4: Final Thoughts

This might just be the toughest road you will ever take but many of us have managed to quit and work on ourselves and I can tell you right now, this life is better sober. To be able to experience everything with full mind and keep it registered in our minds. 

For anyone who tasted alcohol and experienced how it can alter our brains into thinking it’s necessary in order for the body to survive knows it isn’t simply that easy to push it away. 

But for those who know what alcohol has taken away from them will tell you they wish they never drunk. Living life fully aware of your senses is the best way to live. I will not drink with you today!!! To many more years of sobriety. 

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 wished to remain anonymous.

My name is Nickson and I have been sober 300 days one day at a time. Time in sobriety has passed quickly. This journey begun one morning in campus when I woke up after a drinking stupor and I was lying down on my dorm floor wreathing in pain from gastric ulcers 

I am the second of three sons, and we all grew up in the city. I started drinking from a young age we owned a liquor store. I would sneak and pick drinks. Shortly this led to nearly daily drinking or smoking marijuana. While I was still in high school and my elder brother was in college, I remember on several occasions going to visit him on a Friday, only to find myself awakening one or two days later in a dorm room, from what I now know as a blackout, unaware of what had happened. Despite my increasingly frequent substance use, I excelled as a student. I prided myself on never missing a day of school. I attended all my classes and did my assignments and readings. I was blessed with an extremely good memory. I did not need to study very hard for tests to ace them. By my junior year, I was taking all honors classes and easily passing them, putting me near the top of my class. My friends were all band members who partied like me. I never had any run-ins with the administration or faculty and did not think that I had any kind of problem. When I went to college none of my roommates, five in a dorm suite, drank or partied like I did. Within a week I was able to make friends with some sophomores who were just like me. Within a short period of time, harassing the fourth roommate with obnoxious merriment, I was able to convince that non-partying roommate to swap rooms. I structured my class schedule so as to not interfere with my alcohol and drug use, incorporating a large break between morning and late afternoon classes in which I could get all my studying done. I was offered a scholarship opportunity to go on to PhD studies in computer science but chose stay with friends who partied just like me.

I do not remember ever experiencing feelings as I do today. I recollect, even as a preteen, prior to my drinking career, not being able to feel sorrow. During this period I made a decision to stop smoking marijuana because of the possibility of jeopardizing my studies if I were to get caught. I would frequently leave school intoxicated and continue drinking through the weekend if I wasn’t schooling

However, I had few friends, and none of the friends I had drank as I did. I began to drink at home, frequently wondering the next morning how there could be so many empty beer cans on the counter. 

Socially, I was completely isolated. I left my two friends behind and made no new ones. I drank daily in isolation, hiding the quantity of my drinking from my family, secretly replenishing the supply in the liquor cabinet with bottles I hid elsewhere. I still didn’t think I had a problem with alcohol since I had never missed a day of school and continued to excel in my studies. I was unhappy and disinterested in life, and my attention started to wander. 

The following week I was called into my dean’s office for a meeting with him He asked me if I had a problem with alcohol, which I flat out denied. I told him that I sometimes would drink quite a lot on weekends, but that it was something I could control. I truly believed that I could. They offered help if I needed it, but I wasn’t ready yet. The ensuing year I tried many times, unsuccessfully, to curb my drinking. With every unsuccessful attempt to abstain, which never lasted more than a day, I became more and more frustrated. I tried to limit the quantity to only one drink daily. That one drink then became a bottomless tall glass of cheap vodka on the rocks with perhaps a splash of tonic to start — leading to me wondering the following morning where the rest of the bottle disappeared to. I began hiding bottles in the garage and under the seat of my car so I always had access to alcohol. I would never use the same liquor store twice in the same week to avoid potential criticism by the sales clerk of the quantity I was consuming.

My relationship with family was absent. I was unable to participate in any kind of family activity, especially if it interfered with my drinking. My family would watch TV in one room and I would be in another drinking to oblivion. If I watched a movie with the family, it was unlikely I would remember any details of the movie the following morning

By this time, I could not go for more than a couple of hours without feeling withdrawal symptoms including hot flashes, sweats, palpitations, and the shakes. I would awaken during the night in withdrawal needing to take some alcohol to be able to get back to sleep. I began to need to drink just to feel normal. I was sliding down a very slippery slope without a solution. I was unable to ask for help. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. Alcohol had, over many years, subtly become my higher power, fully taking over my life. Every morning I would awaken with fear of going to class. My tremors would be so bad that at times I could barely sign my name, never mind perform the necessary skills for my profession. 

I began losing my appetite. I was unable to eat full meals. I began losing weight quickly. I couldn’t sleep without passing out into unconsciousness — which was now happening early in the evening — only to awaken in the same state of withdrawal again. One morning I began violently vomiting. I managed to crawl in the dark to huddle over the commode. I rationalized that the vomiting might be due to food poisoning. By the morning, I was severely dehydrated and could barely stand. The second night, I began to have diarrhea with old, digested blood in it. The next morning I awoke with my heart racing, unable to get up off the floor, realizing that this was the end of the run. I clearly remember three distinct thoughts. My drinking needs to end. I need to be honest. I need to ask for help.

I managed to pull myself up onto the couch. I asked my friend to take me to the ER, knowing that I was having a GI bleed. In the ER I was asked about my drinking. “Social” was my response. I still wasn’t ready to be honest. Later I was discharged home with instructions to avoid alcohol or any other irritating substance. Miraculously, I was able to abstain from alcohol that entire weekend with only very mild withdrawal symptoms. Each successive day without alcohol seemed like a huge success. Nervously, I returned to class. Near the end of that school day, my dean called to tell me that he had heard that I was in the emergency room the prior week. He asked if I needed help, and I responded yes. He arranged for me to see the school psychiatrist the following morning. During an hour-long interview in which I admitted I had a slight problem with alcohol, he briefly told me about a facility and gave me contact information for the contact. I called and made an appointment for later that day. I stopped by school later that morning and told each of my mates about my problem with alcohol and that I was going to be getting help. They were supportive. I was told what I would need to do if I wanted to participate in the program. They suggested that I might need to have an inpatient evaluation, and he instructed me to make an appointment with the director of the program. I was ready to do anything necessary to begin my recovery. One of the things I talked to them about was honesty and the need for rigorous honesty in order for me to succeed. I knew I could not live any more lies.

By this time I had been sober for three weeks and I had made plans to go for a five-day inpatient evaluation. I went to an addiction treatment facility with a program designed specifically for health care professionals. At the end of the extensive five-day evaluation, it was suggested that I stay for an extended period of time. My choices were limited. At the beginning of treatment, I was angry. I was in denial about the extent of my alcoholism — after all, I had been “sober” for more than three weeks prior to entering treatment — why couldn’t I just have outpatient treatment and continue to school? Here I was in an expensive treatment center insurance wouldn’t cover, and I was not earning an income, but rather accumulating bills. I couldn’t see how important it was for me to separate myself from outside stresses so I could focus on me. I was unwilling to really look at myself until one day I finally learned and internalized that until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober. I needed to concentrate not so much on what needed to be changed in the world as on what needed to be changed in me.

My entire view changed. I became willing to change. I became honest with myself. Over the next six weeks, with the help of my counselor and group members, I began to explore my character flaws and incorporate the principles of alcoholics anonymous into my life.

After seventy days, I was discharged and was soon able to return to normalcy with a monitoring contract with the facility. I quickly joined AA and obtained a sponsor. I attended daily AA meetings for the first ninety days. Later, I cut back to three to four meetings a week as I returned to normal. At the appropriate time, with the guidance of my sponsor, I was able to make amends to everyone I had harmed, including myself.

I believe involvement with the program was necessary for me to begin a successful recovery. Without the support, I certainly doubt I would have seized the opportunity to enter into an intensive inpatient treatment program. My delusion about the lack of severity of my alcoholism likely would have prevailed, as I hadn’t yet lost everything. Following discharge from treatment, the requisites of the monitoring contract mandated a firm level of discipline in meeting attendance, responsibility to submit to random drug screening, school monitoring, as well as regular meetings with my associate director. These requirements set up the mechanics for a continued program of recovery following completion of the contract.

I am now a very grateful recovering alcoholic. My life is full of surprises all the time. I am grateful to have a program I can use to help me grow through life’s challenges.

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 wished to remain anonymous.

It was the day before my sixteenth birthday and I was getting ready to head out the house for my usual rounds with the ‘boys’. I was dressed in all black from head to toe. I felt like such a badass, like who could dare F with me!? There was a sense of anger I had harbored for many years and it really showed up in my teens. There was nothing anyone could tell me. I was hard headed and easily influenced, mostly by the wrong people. 

My family suffered the most from my behavioral problem, especially my mother. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her son. Why was he acting the way he was? Why was he getting high all the time? Was it adolescence or something more? What she did know for sure was that it was too much for her to handle. My little brother observed in silence as his big brother went wayward and my sisters looked on trying to advise but failing miserably. 

So, on that day as I sat down in the living room having breakfast, planning out my day full of the usual shenanigans, she walked in with a stern look on her face and said “your getting tested today or you move out of my house!”. “Tested for what?” I asked. “For those things you’ve been taking, I’m sick of it! Your flushing your life down the toilet and I’m not going to sit back and watch you do it. You either get tested or you leave this house” she replied. 

The first time I had a drink was when I was fourteen. I was with my neighbor who was sixteen at the time and we were right outside our house at about eleven o’clock in the evening. My mom thought I was asleep. She would later come to hear my voice getting louder outside and find me with a beer in hand, unable to construct a sentence. That was the beginning of my relationship with alcohol and drug addiction.

My parents had split when I was growing up and my mom moved us around a lot. We’d never stay in one place long enough for us to call it home. We just lived in houses not homes. She was working extra hard to put food on the table and that meant that we didn’t spend a lot of time together. When she was home, she would stay in her room, not to be disturbed. Only much later would she admit to us that she was depressed. We kind of had to grow up figuring a lot of things out by ourselves.

As a kid growing up, I didn’t understand a lot of the things that were happening around me like why we had to move around so much, why we moved away from dad or why we never spent time with mum. It manifested in fits of rebellion which was actually attention seeking now that I look back on it. I’d refuse to go to school, cause trouble at home, talk back at my mom, bully my siblings. All to get noticed and feel seen. 

By the time I was seated in that living room at sixteen I had turned into a full-on addict. Regularly drinking alcohol, avid marijuana smoker and eager to find the next high. I’d stay out late, not talk to anyone, smoke and drink inside the house, changed my appearance, began to act strange, things would go ‘missing’ from the house and I was falling deeper and deeper into a world of petty crime and alcohol and substance abuse. 

I thought about disagreeing but I didn’t have anywhere to stay and I had a few instances where she had kicked me out which wasn’t very pleasant so I decided to go for the test. She knew I was an alcoholic but wasn’t sure of what else I was taking. My plan was simple, we get to the medical center, I get tested and get out of there as quick as possible. Before anything suggestive happens. Needless to say, the plan fell apart as soon as we arrived. 

I was tested. It came back positive for marijuana. Things got heated and I tried to leave but was quickly held down by some male nurses and hit with a tranquilizer. I later came to learn that it was nicknamed “the stopper” and we would all tell stories of how we got tranquilized which was a huge source of laughter for everyone at the rehab center. 

I woke up in a holding room in the middle of the night which I found out the next day is because I became violent after the shot. Next morning, they got me out and I knew I would not be going back home anytime soon. I met with a doctor who interviewed me to find out about the extent of my alcohol and substance abuse. Turns out it was pretty high for a sixteen-year-old and I was transferred to a rehab center the next day. 

The ride was long and quiet. It was just me and the driver who worked for the rehab center. I don’t remember thinking about much, I guess I was just drugged up from the withdrawal medication. We arrived soon which seemed like ages. It was a place in the middle of the highlands, far from the city, cold and secluded with greenery everywhere.

I got out the car and was taken to my room. Later, I was introduced to my counsellor who showed me around the place. It was a neatly built bungalow seated on a spacious piece of land. Soon, the ‘grand tour’ was over and I went to sit in the tv room. Everyone there was way older than me, they all came up to me and said hello. They asked what I was in for and they each followed up with their ‘drug of choice’. We were about ten people in total. We talked for a bit then we went out for a cigarette with a few of the guys. They didn’t allow cigarettes in the place but somehow these guys had cigarettes.

I would come to know the guys well and we would talk about why we did the things we did. Our lives prior to meeting at the rehab center and pretty much anything and everything. We became tight with a few of the guys and everyone looked out for me being the youngest one. I didn’t understand the twelve steps or what being in denial meant, I don’t think I even understood anything about recovery. I was just there because I was forced to be there. 

A month into my stay I convinced one of the guys to give me some cash he had stashed away and a few of the other guys to help me break out of the place. In one day, we planned my escape and I squeezed myself out the fence the next evening. I was free or so I thought at the time. I walked for a long distance before I got to the main road and caught a bus to the city. I went straight to a bar and bought some alcohol. No one ever asked me for my i.d. I guess that always made it easier for me to drink. 

Two years later I voluntarily checked myself into rehab. Things had gotten out of control and it was generally a tough time for our family. I especially remember my mother being hospitalized due to a depressive episode she had. It was the first time I saw her truly weak and unenthusiastic about life. It was tough but I knew I had to take the step. 

I was in my final year of high school at the time. I stopped showing up to school and went straight into rehab. This time I knew I had to work the program and be there for however long it was recommended I stay. Much like the first time, it was in the outskirts of the city, full of greenery and cold, as I remember. It was a more bare-boned place than the first time. Spacious grounds to jog and lay on the grass, a few sheep, a pool table outside, a small makeshift gym, the house was much smaller and we were four people per room. We were around fifteen people in total. 

Same as the first time I arrived and was greeted by everyone there. This time I found them having their evening meeting. It was a bit tense; I was still in denial. A part of me felt like I was better than everyone there. I was just there to do my time and leave. Once again, I was the youngest person there at eighteen years. I honestly thought I’d find someone my age but it never happened. No one around my age ever came there during my stay.

At first, I would fight the process by sleeping during group meetings, refusing to participate, debating with the counsellors on the definitions of addiction and what truly makes one an addict. I would say things like, “I’m not an addict, I don’t even drink that much, at least not as much as so and so”. It was a tough hill to climb for anyone that tried to get through to me. This went on for about a month then things changed once I started to realize the state everyone else was in also reflected on me. It’s like, if I look at someone else and I feel like they’re in bad shape and were both in the same place then what does that say about the shape I’m in?  

I began to be more open minded and willing to look within and think objectively. I became more open and willing to share in group sessions and one on one’s. I admitted for the first time that I was an addict. I started to work the steps. I would wake up, have breakfast and go lift weights which I had never done before. It was different this time around because I was more conscious of my thoughts and how they affected my actions.

I had thought about running away the first month but this place was air tight. They were fully prepared for such a scenario and after a deep analysis I concluded that the consequences far outweighed the benefits. Deep down I also knew that as much as I wanted to leave, I also wanted to stay. This was going to be my home for the next three months. 

I got to know the guys and we became good friends. Always joking around and each sharing their experiences. I got to hear from fathers, husbands, brothers and sons everyone with something new to teach. I put on weight and learned how to bench press. I was less angry at the world now that I had began to identify some of my underlying issues. I can’t say that I was healed but I began to understand myself.

For the first time in my life I could learn to identify an emerging behavioral pattern and assess whether it was healthy or not. I learned how to be more honest and not feel like I have to hide parts of who I am. I had moments of weakness as will anyone else but I was willing to learn from it. 

All in all, my time in rehab was an experience that shaped my life for the better. I finally accepted that I was an addict. Something that was not possible for me to understand nor see yet everyone around me had already seen that in me hence my being sent to rehab the first time. Nine years ago, I walked out of rehab a lot more knowledgeable and even though I’ve had a number of slips and stints of alcoholism since then I always know there’s light at the end of the tunnel and that my sobriety will always be at the center of my life.