Until I was one day shy of my eleventh birthday, I was raised by my Mom and Dad, although my Mom was always more actively involved with me than my Dad was. When I was real young both my parents drank, but when I was about 10 years old my Mom quit drinking and declared herself an Alcoholic. My Dad continued to drink; his daily habit was to come home from work and begin drinking beer until he went to bed. My recollection of my early childhood, my Mom drank wine and wine coolers on occasion; I don?t remember her being an ?Alcoholic.?
The day before my 11th birthday, my parents split for good after trying a separation and failing when they attempted to reconcile. I left the home I?d grown up in to that point and went to live with my Mom, while my two older brothers decided to stay and live with my Dad. My Mom and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment above a bike shop in a cute neighborhood, and my Dad and brothers continued to live in the 3-story, 4 bedroom, 4 bathroom house my parents built together (physically, with their own hands).
My Mom worked a full-time job, volunteered for overtime every chance she got, and worked as many side jobs as she could juggle to provide for me all by herself. Because of my Mom?s busy schedule, I had a lot of unsupervised time to myself. I used that time unwisely; I was drinking alcohol at my Dad?s house and he would buy me cigarettes. Six months after my parents separated for good, I moved back in with my Dad because I enjoyed the freedom he provided me, and I wanted to be with my brothers.
On my 12th birthday, authorities came to my school because it came to their attention that I had been abused by my Dad. My Dad was very angry, as was I. These authorities required me to have a physical exam to collect proof of the abuse, and to see a child psychologist who specialized in abused children. Soon after the truth came out, I fled back to my Mom?s loving care and she happily accepted me back into her home.
My teen years were full of anguish that I tried to drown with drinking, smoking pot, and being sexually promiscuous. My Mom remained sober and tried to help me in any way she could. I continued to see the child psychologist from the age of 12-18; but at the time it didn?t seem to help. I was tormented by the abuse from my Dad, and my parents? divorce which I felt was my fault.
After graduating from high school, I met my children?s father while I was attending college in a city 5 hours from where I grew up (and where my Mom continued to live). I soon became pregnant with our first child, and when I was 19 years old I was a mother. Our seven-year relationship (5 years married) was full of mental, emotional, verbal abuse and physical intimidation (all on his part). After moving back to my hometown for the last two years of our marriage, I finally I decided I didn?t want to raise our three children in that environment and I divorced him.
As a single mother of three, I was very stressed out and I released the stress by going out and drinking with friends when my children were visiting their Dad. I would drink so much I frequently blacked out. During this time, my Mom and her Partner also experienced a divorce and my Mom jumped of her 18-year sobriety wagon. I was devastated by her choice, and I couldn?t handle the drama of her divorce along with mine, so I moved away again.
I continued to party it up any chance I got, and soon I was drinking even when I did have my children, hiring a babysitter to care for them. My children voiced concern about my drinking, but I felt I was OK because I wasn?t getting drunk when they were in my care; I made sure I had a sober responsible party with us if I had a few drinks.
After marrying husband #2, I slowly began to decrease my alcohol consumption. I settled into the role of wife and mother, and I didn?t feel the need to go out and drink. One year later the marriage fell apart, and I began drinking again. However, I didn?t enjoy the partying as I had enjoyed it before. A couple of months after my husband left, I met a man who lived in my neighborhood and we began dating. He was a recovering Alcoholic with five years sober. I respected his sobriety and so I would have a ?Girls Night? once a month in which my best-friend would come over and we would share a bottle of wine together.
My Mom continued to drink, and after she reconciled with her Partner (whose heavy drinking had a large part in their divorce), they both began to drink even heavier. They were nurturing each others disease, although her Partner was much further down the road of destruction than my Mom. My Mom?s Partner and I were very close; we had a loving relationship and a strong bond, until she became an Alcoholic. I was very angry that they were both drinking as heavily as they were, and I was devastated by the self-destruction of her Partner. These women were two of the strongest women I had known in my life. I looked up to them as role models. To witness their self-destruction was more than I could handle.
The more my Mom and her Partners disease progressed, the less I drank. My Mom?s Partner began to have a lot of health problems associated with her heavy drinking and finally the Doctor told her that if she didn?t quit drinking she would die. My Mom and her Partner got sober for five weeks, and I was so proud of them. But one night my Mom called me very late at night, slurring her words, and muttering incoherently. To this day I don?t know what she was talking about or why she called, but obviously they were off the wagon. The next day I took all of the alcohol in my house and dumped it down the drain. I vowed never to drink again. I was determined to not go down their road.
Six months after falling off the wagon, my Mom?s Partner died of Liver Cirrhosis due to Chronic Alcohol Use. My Mom took care of her Partner up to her last breath. Today my Mom has 24 weeks sober, which is a record for her since her 18 year sobriety came to an end. I have not had a sip of alcohol since I poured all of mine out that one fine September day. I am proud of myself, but more so I?m extremely proud of my Mom. She is an amazingly strong woman, and I make sure I tell her so regularly.
Since my Mom has been sober we?ve repaired our strained relationship. We talk on the phone at least two times a week, and we text as often as we feel like it. We visit each other in person about once a month, with us alternating who visits whom. My Mom regularly attends grief groups and individual grief therapy.
I am now happily married to husband #3 who has been a great source of strength, comfort, and security for me during my time of grief. My husband is strong, confident, and very loving. He is truly my Rock, and I don?t know what I would do without him.
Some days I struggle to stay sober. There are days when a glass of Moscato sounds incredibly refreshing. For a moment I?ll reason with myself that I?m not, and was not, an Alcoholic. I think that maybe it would be OK to have one glass; that one glass doesn?t mean I?ll become an Alcoholic. But then I remember that every Alcoholic starts out as a non-Alcoholic. That one glass turns into two, two glasses turns into one bottle, one bottle turns into two bottles ? No. The thought process stops there, and I go about living in sobriety.
The day before my 11th birthday, my parents split for good after trying a separation and failing when they attempted to reconcile. I left the home I?d grown up in to that point and went to live with my Mom, while my two older brothers decided to stay and live with my Dad. My Mom and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment above a bike shop in a cute neighborhood, and my Dad and brothers continued to live in the 3-story, 4 bedroom, 4 bathroom house my parents built together (physically, with their own hands).
My Mom worked a full-time job, volunteered for overtime every chance she got, and worked as many side jobs as she could juggle to provide for me all by herself. Because of my Mom?s busy schedule, I had a lot of unsupervised time to myself. I used that time unwisely; I was drinking alcohol at my Dad?s house and he would buy me cigarettes. Six months after my parents separated for good, I moved back in with my Dad because I enjoyed the freedom he provided me, and I wanted to be with my brothers.
On my 12th birthday, authorities came to my school because it came to their attention that I had been abused by my Dad. My Dad was very angry, as was I. These authorities required me to have a physical exam to collect proof of the abuse, and to see a child psychologist who specialized in abused children. Soon after the truth came out, I fled back to my Mom?s loving care and she happily accepted me back into her home.
My teen years were full of anguish that I tried to drown with drinking, smoking pot, and being sexually promiscuous. My Mom remained sober and tried to help me in any way she could. I continued to see the child psychologist from the age of 12-18; but at the time it didn?t seem to help. I was tormented by the abuse from my Dad, and my parents? divorce which I felt was my fault.
After graduating from high school, I met my children?s father while I was attending college in a city 5 hours from where I grew up (and where my Mom continued to live). I soon became pregnant with our first child, and when I was 19 years old I was a mother. Our seven-year relationship (5 years married) was full of mental, emotional, verbal abuse and physical intimidation (all on his part). After moving back to my hometown for the last two years of our marriage, I finally I decided I didn?t want to raise our three children in that environment and I divorced him.
As a single mother of three, I was very stressed out and I released the stress by going out and drinking with friends when my children were visiting their Dad. I would drink so much I frequently blacked out. During this time, my Mom and her Partner also experienced a divorce and my Mom jumped of her 18-year sobriety wagon. I was devastated by her choice, and I couldn?t handle the drama of her divorce along with mine, so I moved away again.
I continued to party it up any chance I got, and soon I was drinking even when I did have my children, hiring a babysitter to care for them. My children voiced concern about my drinking, but I felt I was OK because I wasn?t getting drunk when they were in my care; I made sure I had a sober responsible party with us if I had a few drinks.
After marrying husband #2, I slowly began to decrease my alcohol consumption. I settled into the role of wife and mother, and I didn?t feel the need to go out and drink. One year later the marriage fell apart, and I began drinking again. However, I didn?t enjoy the partying as I had enjoyed it before. A couple of months after my husband left, I met a man who lived in my neighborhood and we began dating. He was a recovering Alcoholic with five years sober. I respected his sobriety and so I would have a ?Girls Night? once a month in which my best-friend would come over and we would share a bottle of wine together.
My Mom continued to drink, and after she reconciled with her Partner (whose heavy drinking had a large part in their divorce), they both began to drink even heavier. They were nurturing each others disease, although her Partner was much further down the road of destruction than my Mom. My Mom?s Partner and I were very close; we had a loving relationship and a strong bond, until she became an Alcoholic. I was very angry that they were both drinking as heavily as they were, and I was devastated by the self-destruction of her Partner. These women were two of the strongest women I had known in my life. I looked up to them as role models. To witness their self-destruction was more than I could handle.
The more my Mom and her Partners disease progressed, the less I drank. My Mom?s Partner began to have a lot of health problems associated with her heavy drinking and finally the Doctor told her that if she didn?t quit drinking she would die. My Mom and her Partner got sober for five weeks, and I was so proud of them. But one night my Mom called me very late at night, slurring her words, and muttering incoherently. To this day I don?t know what she was talking about or why she called, but obviously they were off the wagon. The next day I took all of the alcohol in my house and dumped it down the drain. I vowed never to drink again. I was determined to not go down their road.
Six months after falling off the wagon, my Mom?s Partner died of Liver Cirrhosis due to Chronic Alcohol Use. My Mom took care of her Partner up to her last breath. Today my Mom has 24 weeks sober, which is a record for her since her 18 year sobriety came to an end. I have not had a sip of alcohol since I poured all of mine out that one fine September day. I am proud of myself, but more so I?m extremely proud of my Mom. She is an amazingly strong woman, and I make sure I tell her so regularly.
Since my Mom has been sober we?ve repaired our strained relationship. We talk on the phone at least two times a week, and we text as often as we feel like it. We visit each other in person about once a month, with us alternating who visits whom. My Mom regularly attends grief groups and individual grief therapy.
I am now happily married to husband #3 who has been a great source of strength, comfort, and security for me during my time of grief. My husband is strong, confident, and very loving. He is truly my Rock, and I don?t know what I would do without him.
Some days I struggle to stay sober. There are days when a glass of Moscato sounds incredibly refreshing. For a moment I?ll reason with myself that I?m not, and was not, an Alcoholic. I think that maybe it would be OK to have one glass; that one glass doesn?t mean I?ll become an Alcoholic. But then I remember that every Alcoholic starts out as a non-Alcoholic. That one glass turns into two, two glasses turns into one bottle, one bottle turns into two bottles ? No. The thought process stops there, and I go about living in sobriety.
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