by Sally Rosa | Feb 28, 2013 | Addiction Treatment, Sobriety For Women
How One Woman Got Sober
“I took my first drink at thirteen. I knew I was an alcoholic from the very start. I took two shots, threw my phone at someone, and fell off my bike. That was foreshadowing the way my drinking career went.”
My story is my perspective. No matter what the facts are, or how other people saw it, what I experienced was very real for me. I never realized I victimized myself and used self-pity, when I could look at life another way.
I wish I could talk to the little, scared girl I used to be. I wish I could let her know everything will be okay. I let my fear of people, of what they thought, run my life. I wasted a good chunk of my life trying to please everyone, trying to control what they thought. I recently learned that’s out of my control anyway!
Through working the Twelve-Steps, and practicing the principals I learned in all my affairs, fear is starting to dwindle away. I feel free for the first time in my life. My character defects aren’t completely gone, after all, I’m only human. Today, I can truly say that Alcoholics Anonymous has given me greater peace of mind than any drug, than any drink, ever did.
My Childhood
I was born on June 21, 1989, in Queens, NY. I was adopted by loving parents who couldn’t have kids on their own. We soon moved to a small town called Suffern.
From a very young age, I remember feeling like something was wrong with me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what. I felt alone, even when surrounded by people. I was impulsive and not the favorite of my friends’ parents! I wasn’t raised with many rules or boundaries, so when I went to a friend’s house, I wasn’t on my best behavior. I didn’t understand rules applied to me. I thought I was special. So, when I’d hear parents, teachers, and baby-sitters complain to my mom, I started to think I was defective. I was clumsy too. If I spilled food or a drink, I’d be yelled at and sent to my room for hours. All this added up to me thinking I was a bad kid. I remember asking myself “why can’t I just be like everyone else?”
Like most addicts, I’m selfish by nature. So, when my brother was born, I saw him as a bother. I was jealous of the attention he got simply for being sweet and quiet. Meanwhile, I was a loud, energetic mess. See that self-pity and victimization happening? I never knew how to connect with people. It didn’t help that I was severely bullied as a child. I was bullied up until I was about seventeen actually. I never stood up for myself, all I wanted was to be liked, so I was an easy target. I’d laugh the jokes off, go home and take out my anger on my family.
My Family
I was raised in a very chaotic house. There was a lot of yelling and hitting, and that was how I learned to express myself. My parents would also fight, then leave the hours for long periods. They’d say they were never coming back. This, mixed with being adopted, left me with abandonment issues, which I still continue to work on. All I could think was “if I do something wrong, this person is going to give up on me and leave me forever.” I realize today that not everyone has to like me, but I struggled with it for years.
As for being adopted, I didn’t have any contact with my birth-family. I didn’t feel emotionally connected to my adopted family. This left me feeling alone and unwanted. One of the many things AA’s given me is a sense of belonging. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m part of a family. I feel loved, which makes it easier to love myself. I’m getting ahead of myself though.
Active Addiction
I took my first drink at thirteen. I knew I was an alcoholic from the very start. I took two shots, threw my phone at someone, and fell off my bike. That was foreshadowing the way my drinking career went. I’d get wasted, get in a fight, and drive home drunk (until I lost my license at eighteen, for getting two DWI’S in six months). I started doing cocaine at fifteen. I had a new set of friends and a new boyfriend. Things were looking up! As soon as I started doing coke, I quit my cheerleading squad and lost most of my friends from middle school.
All I cared about was getting high and being with my boyfriend. I started to get panic attacks and ended up with prescriptions to Klonopin and Xanax. This made getting high ever easier. I used anything I could to change the way I felt. I didn’t want to be alone and scared, I wanted to be a part of something. Drinking and doing coke were the only ways I knew to be a part of anything. I finally had an identity as the party girl, the girl who could get drugs. I was so proud of myself at the time. Looking back, I fell bad for myself. I thought drugs and a reputation would bring me happiness and comfort. They did, but only for a short time. My life fell apart pretty quick. My boyfriend became abusive, I started skipping school, and my best friend slept with my boyfriend.
After a string of hospital visits, arrests, and getting in trouble at school, I was sent to my first rehab. I was a senior in high school. I wanted things to get better, to fix my life, but I wasn’t ready to quit drugs and alcohol for good. I didn’t think that was the problem. After being in treatment for four months, I began to use again. This went on for four more years. I hit a few more bottoms along the way. I was arrested, crashed cars, and got kicked out of community college. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I was the problem.
So, I moved to NYC to attend school as a makeup artist. I thought if I left the area where I knew all the drug dealers, maybe I’d get better. Guess what? I was wrong. I found drugs in NYC pretty fast and was back to my old routine. I partied every night instead of going to class. I managed to get a few jobs acting and promoting, but they fell through after I began to miss shoots. Once again, I was consumed by getting high. I had to move home and quit school.
Then two of my friends died. One died suddenly, the other shot himself. As if that wasn’t enough, I was at my friend Tara’s house when her dad also died suddenly. I used these events as a reason to drink more than I ever had before. I went on a four month bender of cocaine, alcohol and Roxi’s. At the end of my bender, I went missing for two days and finally stumbled home. I looked like I was about to die. I was about to die. I finally told my mom that I needed help. Three days later, I was on a plane to Florida. This is where my real journey of recovery started.
Florida
I arrived at a treatment center on February 21st, 2011, determined to stay sober. My sobriety date is July 29, 2012. Clearly, I still had challenges ahead.
I was in treatment for nine months. I started to look at events from my childhood and how those events shaped my life. I shared things I’d never talked to anyone about. This was a great start, but I had to do more. I had to forgive the people who hurt me, leave my past in the past, and look towards a brighter future. I had to realize that, on my own, I sell myself short. I’m worth something. I can contribute to other people. I don’t have to let my people pleasing attitude, or my social anxiety, run my life! I didn’t realize all of this right away though.
I got out of treatment and relapsed. I managed to put together another six months sober, but ended up relapsing again. The second time, I worked steps and was sponsoring women. I wasn’t taking care of myself or my program though. I stopped praying, started skipping meetings, and starting going to clubs all the time. Once again, I got wrapped up in caring only what other people thought of me, not what I thought of myself. To put it another way, my behavior relapsed long before I drank. I also got involved in an unhealthy relationship. I lived in fear of him leaving me. I never felt good enough for him, or anyone else. I let the way he treated me determine how I felt about myself. If he texted me, I was happy. If he didn’t, I was depressed.
I had other issues from my past pop up. I didn’t tell anyone that these things still consumed my mind. Finally, I got honest and told my new sponsor everything. I finally felt free. I let go of my fear of being judged and laid everything on the table. That was July 23rd, 2012. I used on July 28. I didn’t tell my sponsor until a month later! I was embarrassed that I used after everything I’d been through. After I came clean with my sponsor, everything changed.
I began to pray everyday, even if I didn’t want to. I shared what was on my mind, even when I wanted to keep it close. I reached out to others, even when I wanted to wallow in self-pity. I went to meetings and helped others when I could. I wasn’t perfect, but I tried my best. I made mistakes, but promptly told my sponsor about them. I worked the steps honestly. It wasn’t easy, but I got through it. The only thing I did do perfectly was not to use, no matter what.
I’ve been through a lot in the past year. I lost a close friend to this disease. My uncle died recently. My birth-mom, who I recently got in touch with, didn’t send me a birthday card and doesn’t reach out to me. In the past, I would’ve used over all these things. Today, I know my higher power is watching over me and I make sure to stay in conscious contact.
The Blessings of Sobriety
I have friend who’ve been by my side through thick and thin. They’re always there for me. I’ve built a strong foundation in my sobriety. I have a sponsor I can call for anything. I have about twenty-five solid, sober people I can call for anything. I go to meetings everyday. Most importantly, I help other women. I have sponsee’s and I bring women from treatment to meetings. Today, I give back and help people, like others help me in early sobriety. I actually listen to people and help them with my experience. I have a higher power that will never abandon me. My higher power is mine and no one else’s. I have a healthy relationship with my parents and talk to them daily. I have so many friends in recovery who love me, and I love them!
I do so many fun things in sobriety. After all, I didn’t get sober to be bored! I can go anywhere without fear of picking up a drink or drug. I go to the movies, bowling, on adventures, cruises – the possibilities are endless! I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be. I still struggle with my work ethic and figuring out what I want to do with my life. I’m sure of one thing though, that I’ll be okay. Nothing is worth using over, nothing. No one can make me use, no one. I determine, through my actions, how my day goes. No one else controls my mood, or makes me feel a certain way. I have that power now and I give it up to God.
As long as I’m helping others, and working an honest program, I’ll be okay. Sure, I’m going to fall short sometimes. I’m okay with that. I’ll go through pain, but I realize if I handle it right, I’ll grow. I’m starting to understand the real meaning of love and peace of mind.
I’m happier than I ever was while using. I feel at home for the first time in my life. AA’s given me everything I’ve ever needed and wanted (and not only materially, but emotionally!). I have respect for myself and others, a new family, and my life has meaning. I have no idea what the future holds, but I’m excited to find out. I know I have an amazing foundation in my sobriety. I love being sober and I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences, good or bad, for anything. I know that I can help others because of who I am today. As the Big Book says, “how dark it is before the dawn.” No matter how bad things seem to be, or how bad of a day it is, I’ve learned if I push through, the next day can be amazing. I just need to stick it out and have faith that everything happens for a reason. I have a good thing going here and I owe it all to Alcoholics Anonymous and my higher power.
It’s a miracle that I’m sober. I’m eternally grateful for this program and everyone in it who has helped me along my journey. If I can do it, anyone can!
–Dana K
by Fiona Stockard | Feb 19, 2013 | Addiction Treatment, Drug Addiction
I Will Wait…
I will wait. I will wait for you. These are the words taunting me. Why? Waiting. Hoping. Praying. Healing. Addicts like me don’t easily possess these qualities.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve waited for something. I’ve waited for someone, something, anything to make me better. If I only had this one person, this one thing, this one place, I’d be whole. I’d be complete. I just have to wait. Sometimes, rarely, I’d get what I wanted. I’d be happy for a few minutes. That’s life. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. What if the only thing you want in life, what if the only thing you were waiting for…was someone else’s life?
That’s what I wait for. I wait for the day you get sober. I wait for the day when the lies, the deception, the hurt stops. I wait for the day when I don’t have to stay up, worry, panic. I wait for the day when something more than love binds us together. I wait for the day when our passion for life binds us together.
Addiction brought us together in a different way. We bonded. We nodded. We laughed. Those days are over. Those days have been over for years. Now I wait. I wait for you. I wait for the day when you decide that being happy is more important than being high. I wait for you to live alongside me again.
I wait for the day you call and say “I’m done.” I wait for the day when ask for help. I wait for the day when you scream for help because simply asking doesn’t work. I wait for the day when you wave your white flag so high and so quick that it can’t be mistaken for anything other than a sign of defeat.
I wait and I wait. It’s hard for an addict like me. I have God to guide me through. I have a thousand other distractions. Nothing takes me away from the longest line I’ve ever been in. Waiting.
I will wait…for you.
(Shout out to Mumford and Sons)
by Fiona Stockard | Feb 6, 2013 | Addiction Treatment, Recovery
Addiction is a gruesome little fellow, huh? He comes in, takes over our lives, and ruins our dreams. He makes us believe he isn’t a disease. He makes us believe he’s just a phase, just a problem.
In treatment, my therapist said addiction and alcoholism were diseases. I didn’t agree. She compared alcoholism to cancer. I thought to myself, “I wish I knew this growing up! I could have gotten my parents off my back!” I could only dream of using this disease excuse when my parents were pointing flashlights in my eyes to check the size of my pupils.
I argued with my sponsor that alcoholism and addiction weren’t diseases. I thought a disease was something physically wrong with you. After all, I’d seen my grandfather fight, and beat, cancer. I watched my grandmother die of throat cancer. Now cancer, that’s a disease. Alcoholism? Addiction? They’re not diseases. It’s just a phase I’m going through, I’ll be fine.
I Started to Change My Mind
The more I read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, the more I began to change my mind. I started to look at alcoholism and addiction as diseases. I learned that my disease centered in my mind, not my body. I could be entirely normal in all other respects, but when it came to drug and alcohol? Well, then my thinking was simply wrong.
The idea I could control my use is a symptom of my disease. The idea that it’d be different this time is a symptom of my disease. The idea that I had a choice in whether to drink or not, that’s a symptom of my disease too.
I began to learn I was INSANE. I began to learn that even though days, weeks, months, and years pass, my addict mind still exists. The only way I can continue being sober is to understand that I’m sick and take my “medicine.”
I believe everyone has their own medicine. If you’re diabetic, you need insulin. If you have an infection, you need antibiotics. If you’re an alcoholic, you need the twelve-steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. I work hard to keep my demons at bay. I accept that this recovery gig is a lifelong process.
Alcoholism is a Disease!
AA’s Big Book speaks of a jumping off point. This is when we can’t image life with, or without, alcohol and drugs. We have two choices. We can do some work (get a sponsor and work the twelve-steps), or continue drinking and using (to the “bitter end” as the book says).
Today it’s easy for me to say I’ll do the necessary work. This is because the bitter end is just that – a bitter, lonely, and destructive end. To put it another way, I do the work because alcohol beat me up enough. When I was in early sobriety though? Well, that’s another story. Many of us addicts and alcoholics decide to go to that bitter end. We decide this because alcoholism and addiction are diseases. They’re disease that make us think we’re different. They make us think a lonely death is better than a period of uncomfortable growth.
Addiction and alcoholism are diseases that affect our minds. They warp our thinking. They also affect the lives that we touch. They destroy families, romantic relationships, friendships, and countless other things.
Once someone starts to recovery from alcoholism, things are much different. Today, I’m a stronger and more faithful person because of my disease. Looking into the abyss, well, it changes you. We can look into that abyss and get better, or we can look into it and die.
The choice is ours. There’s always hope, ladies. We can ALWAYS recovery from our addiction. We can ALWAYS recovery from our alcoholism. We can ALWAYS bounce back. We can ALWAYS get better. There’s doesn’t always have to be a bitter end.
by Fiona Stockard | Jan 28, 2013 | Addiction Treatment, Benefits of Sobriety
Take a walk across the country and you’ll find your share of the beaten, the weathered, the splintered souls left tattered, staggered and tattooed by addiction. See, addiction’s become the new apple pie, the new baseball, the new Coca-Cola. These ravaged, misguided figures haunt the alleys and streets of America. They moan in the houses where the middle-class once lived. Take a look and you’ll see them, you’ll find them, you’ll step over them.
You may have stepped over her. You may have walked right by. You may have laughed at her one night in a bar. You may have crossed to the other side of the street and avoided eye contact. You may have bought weed from her. You may have bought beer from her.
Why not? She’s pretty, right? No, she’s not pretty. Saying she’s pretty is like saying Shakespeare was a writer or Keith Moon was a drummer. She looks like heaven walking towards you with legs that go all the way up. She smiles the way you wish they all smiled. She doesn’t walk, she floats. Maybe you could find a better looking woman. Maybe you could also find a better writer, a better drummer. The only problem? They haven’t made one yet. See, the good news has always been that she’s beautiful on the outside.
But what if the Mona Lisa was made of shit? What if a sunset signaled the end of the world? If she, or he, or it, or anything looks beautiful but brings only destruction and chaos, well, that beauty isn’t anything at all. That beauty’s a mask.
You were probably fooled by the mask. She wasn’t. She knew the fire was rising. She knew the fire would consume her. She welcomed it. The needles in her arm, the nights in ICU, the crying parents, the angry friends, the beatings, the abuse, the screams. The nights sleeping in the rain. The nights that sleeping in the rain can’t and won’t wash away. The psych-wards, the rehabs, the boyfriends, the husbands, you, me, anyone. We can’t do s**t.
We can’t do s**t. So, what can we besides walk over this zombie of self-destruction? We wait. We wait for good news. Good news rarely comes. The good news isn’t breaking news, it isn’t splattered across the front page, it isn’t tweeted, it isn’t googled, it isn’t Facebooked. The good news is slow. The good news is humble. The good news is quiet. It’s real, raw, rare. The good news is here and it’s her.
She walked from a cave of needles, of alcohol, of men, of pain. She walked into a world that’s frightening and unknown. She held her head high. She pushed past temptation. She fought though all the s**t, fixing, polishing, remembering every mistake. Never blaming, always owning up and always moving on. This is the good news you’ll never hear. This is the good news that’s not published.
You just have to see it. It can’t be explained. It’s too real for that. It’s too different. It’s too new.
To explain what she looks like, what she feels like, what she is when she’s hunched over, in an alley, talking to a woman she used to be – well, to explain that wouldn’t do her justice. She was emotionally beaten, knocked to the floor, destroyed.
This time she rose with class, with dignity, with love. I could tell you what that looks like but you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t believe that what used to send her to the needle, the bottle, the powder, well, that now makes her to rise even higher. The people she talks to today don’t buy drugs or booze or sex. The people she talks to today give her hope, spirit, and strength. What does she give them? Everything. She gives them everything.
She helps more women stay sober each day than most rehabs do in a year. How? She tells the truth. She talks without shame, without guilt, without hesitation. She talks with love, with the knowledge that she’s been there and gotten better.
What does this woman, this insane woman, this confused woman, this disaster of a woman, this heart-aching woman, this pained woman, this anguished woman, this light woman, this redeemed woman, this loving woman, this miracle woman, what does she look like? Well, I can’t tell you. You’ll have to see for yourself.
I can tell you this, she’s beautiful. She’s beautiful through her scars, through her track-marks, through her pain, through her struggle, through her everything. How? How can she be this beautiful? Because finally, for the first time, she’s beautiful on the inside.
by Sally Rosa | Jan 25, 2013 | Addiction Treatment, Recovery
Treatment is just the beginning. I used to hate when people told me that! It didn’t matter if they were therapists, family, or friends. I didn’t want to hear it! Turns out they were telling me the truth though.
Moving into a sober-living house (a halfway or three-quarter house) after treatment is incredibly helpful. Early sobriety is tough. Being in a structured, safe, and sober environment makes the transition from treatment to real-life easier. Simple as that.
Most newly sober women don’t know what to expect from a halfway house. They think it’s going to be dark, dank, and depressing. Or they think it’ll be a place to use without anyone knowing. Or they think something else crazy. I thought all those things and more!
The truth is that living in a halfway house provides strong community support. It’s yet another safety net against relapse.
The Top 10 Things You Should Do in a Halfway House
1) Follow the rules
2) Go to meetings
3) Get a sponsor
4) Make friends with other sober women
5) Get a job and begin to become self-sufficient
6) Get honest – ask for help if you think about using
7) Start praying and building your relationship with God
8) Be grateful for this opportunity at a second chance
9) Be respectful of your roommates – that means clean up after yourself!
10) Become a productive members of society – get in a routine and stick with it
The Top 10 Things You Shouldn’t Do in a Halfway House
1) Don’t use drugs or drink!
2) Don’t continue to act out (on an eating disorder, sexually, excessive shopping, etc.)
3) Don’t sleep all day
4) Don’t relay on everyone else to support you
5) Don’t only hang out with newly sober people – get some old-timers in your life!
6) Don’t be disrespectful to your roommates or house managers
7) Don’t get violent in the house
8) Don’t fall too far behind on rent
9) Don’t continue to do the same things and expect different results!
10) Don’t think you can do this on your own – if everyone else needs help, so do you!
Follow these lists to guarantee your success while living in a halfway house!
