I grew up in a lower middle class family in the Midwest, USA in a family of normal drinkers. We were on the poor side and, when I was 9, I went through my first depression. At 13 I discovered alcohol. At 14 I discovered drugs. By 17 I was in rehab and running around city streets with heroin addicts. I barely graduated high school or I should say they graduated me and I am grateful for this. I got a job at the bank at 17 and started college at 19. Somehow or another, I ended up in AA and was sober for a time. At 22 I decided I didn’t really have an alcohol problem. After being sober for a time I picked up a margarita and instant blackout. Shortly before or after this I went through another major depression and was diagnosed cyclothymic. Somehow I managed the job, school and alcohol and finished my degree at 24.
At 24 I went to live in Spain. Spain was magical to me, even though I was drinking heavily and getting into all sorts of trouble. I moved back to the states and had planned to go back and teach English as a Second Language in Spain until I met my Colombian BF of 4 years. During this time I moved to California. There I got my first good job and was assaulted and violently raped at my going away party. This would be the first of two assaults in my life, both during blackouts. This really messed me up. Nonetheless, I found a way to work as a temp and enrolled in graduate school where I met my (now ex) husband. I did well in grad school and had yet to ever take my first morning drink. I married a decent man at 32 and moved from California back up to the Midwest. I was married for four years and divorced at 36.
At 36 I decided to move to the desert southwest and remember distinctly the morning of my first drink. While on vacation in the Midwest, I met a man from the Midwest and moved back up there. That fell through. I went to California on vacation and met another man and moved back to California, where I was lost an entire year drinking and waking up in strange places. That relationship fell through. I managed to get a good job finally and buy a house. I’d come home and drink every night – at least one bottle. I would drink round the clock on the weekends. I did this for three years. I got really drunk one night at a business offsite, a coworker came after me on a business trip and this ruined my career. I didn’t sue, but I should have. I met another man who was abusive and a crack addict and that fell through, which was part of the reason I decided to leave - again.
I quit my job and moved back to the desert Southwest where I now live. I'm a water girl. Life has never been the same. I hate it here. I’ve worked sporadically here and there and volunteered. I guess I have become a shut-in with driving phobias and a diagnosis of Bipolar 1 depressive in addition to the alcohol dependence. I don’t leave my house much. I’ve completely cut myself off from my family and most of my friends. For years I’ve been sitting here alone drinking. The past year I have made “recovery” my mission and failed. I sit here on day 2 at the age of 50 wondering where all the time went. Since I’ve been here I met another man – a confirmed bachelor womanizer player who just broke my heart. For four years he was abusive to me in one way or the other. In November I had a meltdown over realizing him for the player/abuser that he is and went off all my medications and hit the bottom, where I now am. Each time I try to do this AF thing it’s harder. The string of failures is longer. Getting through the day is harder. The Depression is harder. The mental illness diagnoses keep changing. I am not consistent with my medication a lot of times due to drinking. My head feels so confused right now and like I’m ready for the loony bin. Not much of a success story here. My life has been one giant, sad blur and I become more isolated each day. I hope I can do this AF thing. I am very happy to be at MWO.
Thanks for reading if you made it this far.
At 24 I went to live in Spain. Spain was magical to me, even though I was drinking heavily and getting into all sorts of trouble. I moved back to the states and had planned to go back and teach English as a Second Language in Spain until I met my Colombian BF of 4 years. During this time I moved to California. There I got my first good job and was assaulted and violently raped at my going away party. This would be the first of two assaults in my life, both during blackouts. This really messed me up. Nonetheless, I found a way to work as a temp and enrolled in graduate school where I met my (now ex) husband. I did well in grad school and had yet to ever take my first morning drink. I married a decent man at 32 and moved from California back up to the Midwest. I was married for four years and divorced at 36.
At 36 I decided to move to the desert southwest and remember distinctly the morning of my first drink. While on vacation in the Midwest, I met a man from the Midwest and moved back up there. That fell through. I went to California on vacation and met another man and moved back to California, where I was lost an entire year drinking and waking up in strange places. That relationship fell through. I managed to get a good job finally and buy a house. I’d come home and drink every night – at least one bottle. I would drink round the clock on the weekends. I did this for three years. I got really drunk one night at a business offsite, a coworker came after me on a business trip and this ruined my career. I didn’t sue, but I should have. I met another man who was abusive and a crack addict and that fell through, which was part of the reason I decided to leave - again.
I quit my job and moved back to the desert Southwest where I now live. I'm a water girl. Life has never been the same. I hate it here. I’ve worked sporadically here and there and volunteered. I guess I have become a shut-in with driving phobias and a diagnosis of Bipolar 1 depressive in addition to the alcohol dependence. I don’t leave my house much. I’ve completely cut myself off from my family and most of my friends. For years I’ve been sitting here alone drinking. The past year I have made “recovery” my mission and failed. I sit here on day 2 at the age of 50 wondering where all the time went. Since I’ve been here I met another man – a confirmed bachelor womanizer player who just broke my heart. For four years he was abusive to me in one way or the other. In November I had a meltdown over realizing him for the player/abuser that he is and went off all my medications and hit the bottom, where I now am. Each time I try to do this AF thing it’s harder. The string of failures is longer. Getting through the day is harder. The Depression is harder. The mental illness diagnoses keep changing. I am not consistent with my medication a lot of times due to drinking. My head feels so confused right now and like I’m ready for the loony bin. Not much of a success story here. My life has been one giant, sad blur and I become more isolated each day. I hope I can do this AF thing. I am very happy to be at MWO.
Thanks for reading if you made it this far.
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