by Fiona Stockard | May 26, 2015 | Addiction Articles, Sobriety For Women
Early-Recovery is Crazy!
The title says it all – early-recovery is crazy! We’re a whirlwind of emotions (mainly negative ones!), fear, insecurity, anxiety, highs and lows, and all sorts of madness.
It’s not all bad though. It’s also the time when we grow the most! Think about it like this – when we’re at ground zero, there’s nowhere to go but up. I probably grew more, and learned more about myself, in my first six months of sobriety than at any other time in my life.
This column, the newest from Sobriety for Women, will focus on the good, the bad, and the ugly. Admittedly, there’s usually more bad and ugly than good! So, to start things off, let me tell you all about the night I moved into what would become my final halfway house.
A Halfway House Horror Story
I “transferred” halfway houses at around ninety days sober. I say transferred because, to tell the truth, I was kicked out of the halfway house I’d been living in. I didn’t drink or get high, but I wasn’t living by spiritual principles. I was making selfish and impulsive decisions and, wouldn’t you know it, got kicked out.
So there I was, ninety days sober and effectively homeless. I scrambled and found another sober living residence that was willing to take me without a security deposit. Thank God for the kindness of women in this program!
I moved in around dinnertime that night. I met the owner, the house managers, and my new roommates. It turns out I actually knew one of the women living there. We’d previously lived together in another halfway! South Florida is a small place, friends!
This woman, let’s call her “Martha,” was a chronic relapser. I had been too for quite some time, so who was I to judge?
I emerged from my room later that night, around midnight I think, and found Martha and another of our roommates sitting in the living room with belts around their arms. The coffee table was littered with powder, burnt spoons, orange syringe caps, and a bent and dull needle.
To say I was shocked was a bit of an understatement. Just a few hours earlier, the owner had stood in our living room and talked about the power of honesty, willingness, and spiritual living. Martha and our other roommate stood there nodding their heads.
Fast forward to midnight and they were nodding their heads in a completely different way. I didn’t know what to do! I knew what I should do, but there’s a huge difference between should and taking that action.
One thing was for sure though, I knew I didn’t want to get high. I retreated back to my room and called the owner. I was shaking as I called! I didn’t want Martha and the other girl to hate me! Still, I knew if I didn’t talk to someone ASAP than I’d join them. That’s just how addiction works.
The owner didn’t answer, so I called a house manager. She told me to do nothing tonight and they would kick the girls out tomorrow. She told me that, if I needed to, I could leave and sleep on her couch for the night.
We talked for close to an hour. I slept in my new halfway house (halfway home!) that night. After we got off the phone, I prayed for a good thirty minutes or so. I asked God for the strength to stay sober.
The following morning, Martha and our other roommate were kicked out. It wasn’t the big deal I’d made it into in my mind the night before. The owner came over, drug tested them, and they left. It was that simple.
The Power of God
The only reason I stayed sober that night was because of God and the house manager I spoke to. I truly believe that woman was an instrument of God working to help me!
I’d been kicked out of a halfway house that day. I wasn’t living by spiritual principles. I moved into somewhere new, someplace outside of my comfort zone. I saw a woman I was friendly with (calling her my friend might be too much, but we were certainly friendly).
Then, hours later, drugs were placed in front of me. There’s no reason I should have stayed sober. All signs pointed towards relapse. But I didn’t! God was doing for me what I couldn’t do for myself.
That night was the start of my REAL recovery. That night was the start of me listening to, and learning from, others. Although it’s a crazy story, it also displays a powerful and simple truth – we only need to do the right thing to tap into a spiritual power beyond our understanding.
by Fiona Stockard | May 7, 2015 | Addiction Articles, Sobriety For Women
By: Tim Myers
Dear Mom,
So, Happy Mother’s Day!
I started roaming around the malls looking for the best Mother’s Day present ever. I found some great slippers and a wicked cool candle that smelled like pumpkin pie, but nothing seemed to be good enough.
I mean, you’re pretty great Mom. A tube of socks or a tube of flowers just wouldn’t do the trick.
Seriously, what do you get the woman who shot you out in to the world? What do you get the woman who held your head so you little neck didn’t hurt? What do you get the woman who was there when you first walked, crawled, burped, pooped, and learned to whistle (not in that order!)?
What do you get the person who saw you strike out in little league and took you out for ice cream after the game? What do you get the person who saw try a cigarette for the first time and thought it was just a phase? What do you get the woman who found the beer can under your bed and thought it was just rebel kid stuff.
What kind of present do you get the mother who held you head above the toilet when you came home drunk for the first time? What is the perfect present for the lady who drove you home from middle school, high school, and college when you got suspended for being high at school?
Is there anything you can get a mother who pulled countless bottles of whisky out from under your bed and realized this is not a phase. What do you get for the mother you pushed? What do you get the woman your called an a*****e in a blackout? What could you give someone who held you head while you cried “I need help?”
Is there anything in this world that would be even close to give to the women who drove your to treatment? Who paid for your treatment. Who drove you back to treatment. Who paid for it again. Then drove you back again. Then paid again and again and again and again.
What gift could I give a mother that went to church every Sunday and asked God to save me? What could a mother be given that would be any sort of reward for ten plus years of endured pain. Does a gift like that exist? Is it out there?
What could I give my mother that would be a token of how wonderful a mother she is? How about One Sober Day?
This Mothers Day I will remain 100% completely sober, safe, and happy. Now, I plan on staying sober everyday ‘til then. I’ve got every intention of staying sober everyday after, but I can’t promise that. I can, however, promise you that on mother’s day this year you’ll get the only thing in this whole wide world that you want…
Me: sober, safe, and happy.
by A Women in Sobriety | Apr 7, 2015 | Addiction Articles, Sobriety For Women
By: Tim Myers
Can You See REAL Beauty?
Take the lens cap off your face. Remove the rose colored tint from you eyes. Stop looking at women from the grocery store check out pedestal where you were raised and start looking at women as God intended them to be – beautiful, perfectly imperfect, flawed and pure works of art.
Next time you’re bumping into the slow walkers at the mall or rolling your eyes at the woman bagging your french fries, take a minute to pause and really, really see these women. Look at the curves, the texture, the emotion and the light.
Women are beautiful just the way they were made, without the airbrush, without the make up and without the stereotype. I know this, but Brian Cattelle proved it.
Unfiltered & Real
Once the maroon hazed lines cleared from his eyes and the fumes of booze were five years behind him in the rearview mirror, Brian Cattelle picked up his camera and began to show us how beautiful women really are.
He didn’t set out on a self-righteous quest and wasn’t fueled by injustice or a particular cause. He just wanted to see if he could make the oldest star in the sky shine a little bit brighter. In his attempt he may have just invented a whole new way to look at women. Bare. Not naked, but Bare.
He found the areas of the United States that had already been stripped of their glamor, their paint, and their plastic values. He traveled many hours, climbed thirty feet in the air on rusted and crumbling steel, through rivers, snow and garbage, and when he got where he was going…she took off her clothes.
The delicate, original skin of the women in his photographs jump off the page and into your memories. Vogue, Vanity Fair, and every other red lips, white teeth, offensive, “hey girls, lose some weight” Wal-Mart magazine will never feature women as beautiful as the ones found in Brian Cattelle’s work. You know why? They’re just too real.
A Forgotten Portrait
The forgotten structures, the dark eyes of his subjects, and the innocence of a woman thrown into the world that tries to steal her soul on a daily basis, pushes his women to the edge of the photo threatening to dissolve them forever. Brian’s photographs make these women look like the world has sent them away to be reproduced in mass quantities.
When you look carefully, though, you can see they are still there, crouched just outside the darkness, alive, vibrant, and more beautiful than ever.
Once you see her, you’ll never lose her again. Once we all see these photos, we’ll never be fooled again. Never fooled into thinking that a woman should or could look a certain way. We’ll realize that each woman is created equal. Each woman is perfectly imperfect and that’s what makes her…Perfect.
Once you see these images you’ll never forget Brian Cattelle. A man whose been chipped, scuffed up, bruised and beaten, yet found a way to rise, to shine and in the process he made the world a little bit brighter. Take a look for yourself!
by A Women in Sobriety | Mar 17, 2015 | Addiction Articles, Sobriety For Women
Honesty – Her Story Begins on 11/24/13
As I sit here it’s Saturday night, well early sunday morning now, and I can’t believe it. I am sober. The TV isn’t spinning as I watch it. I’m not vomiting. My mind is clear. This is the first Saturday night in six years that I haven’t been completely smashed out of my mind.
Hi everyone, my name is Amelia and I’m an alcoholic. It wasn’t until Thursday night that I actually said those words out loud to a group of people. I never thought that day would come. I never thought I would be the one standing in an AA meeting admitting to people I barely know that I’m an alcoholic.
Surrender – Step One
I think that Step One must be the hardest step. It has been for me.
all photos courtsey of the author unless otherwise noted. This isn’t one of hers
Now, my story doesn’t start with me having a horrible upbringing and coming from alcoholic parents. I think a lot of people have that misconception about addicts. I had the best childhood a girl could ask for. I had the most amazing parents who loved me dearly. I was so happy.
I believed in my religion with all my heart and never wavered. The only time I was ever around alcohol was when I would visit my grandpa on Sundays. He was always sipping on a double vodka cranberry. I have always been a curious type, so naturally I wondered what it felt like to be drunk. Still I never wavered in my beliefs.
When I turned eighteen I moved down to Cedar City for school and had the best roommates ever. I absolutely loved my first year of college. I met the love of my life, or I thought so at the time anyway. We got engaged after a year of dating. I was preparing to get married in the SL temple as an avid Mormon. Life was going just as I had planned and dreamed as a little girl.
The wedding date was set for June 18, 2004. I remember going through the temple on June 15th and having so much love and support from family and friends. I was making everyone so proud and I felt proud of myself. The night before the wedding my world came crashing down. My fiancé called the wedding off.
It was one of the most surreal experiences I have ever faced. To this day it seems weird that it actually happened to me and I’m sitting here writing about it. I made it through. I made it. At the time I didn’t think I was going to. It seems like life was a constant “I made it through” moment. At least it was for me.
After my wedding I didn’t know what to do. I was now nineteen wearing garments with no real idea what that meant. All I knew was that I couldn’t take them off simply because I didn’t get married. I always had to wear them. To me it didn’t seem fair, but because of what I was taught I wore them religiously for two years.
An Alcoholic is Born
About six months before my twenty-first birthday, I started having second thoughts about everything. I didn’t understand a lot about the Mormon church and I felt like I was stuck in something that I couldn’t get out of. I was living in fear of everything. What would happen if I slept without my garments on? What if I missed church? I knew that this was not how God wanted me to feel.
God is not fear based. God is love. No one should feel fearful of what happens to you when you take your garments off. So I did it, I took them off. I walked out into the world without my garments. It felt good to not have to put on a perfect face anymore. I could be me.
On my twenty-first birthday I got invited to go out with a few friends to the bar. I was skeptical because my parents were already hurting that I took my garments off and was not going to church. It took a minute to decide what to do. I lied that night about going out drinking and little did I know that eight years later I would still be lying not only to them, but to myself. Until today. I will not lie anymore. I am going to be 100% honest and real.
The second alcohol touched my lips I was hooked. I’ve been taught this week that alcoholism’s actually a disease. It’s something you’re born with. It’s like cancer or diabetes. It needs to be treated or you will die.
me while drinking
At first I didn’t think I was hooked. I just knew I liked going out and I liked to party. When I was twenty-two I got into a relationship with a really awesome guy. He drank, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought it was cool that I was able to go home and make myself a cocktail and relax. I was told that it was normal to go home and have a cocktail. If you aren’t an alcoholic, it is normal. But if you have a brain like me, its not.
I remember everyday just really looking forward to going home to that drink. I would make myself a cocktail as soon as I walked through the door. At first it was one or two, but as the years went on it turned into three and four with a few shots in between. I still talked myself into thinking it was normal because I was home relaxing.
I found myself going to bed some nights and, as soon as my boyfriend fell asleep, I’d get up and take three or four more shots. Jason used to make the comment all the time like, “Wow, it seems like this vodka is running out fast. I swear we aren’t drinking this much.” I would always tell him that we were and try to talk him into thinking he had more than he did. Lies. I was lying again.
A few years into our relationship, Jason and I started fighting a lot. I’ve learned over the past few days that it’s hard for alcoholics to hold relationships unless they get help. I believe that to be true now and I blame alcohol for my breakup with Jason.
When we moved to MT it was kind of a last ditch effort to fix things. We had good days, but we also had a lot of bad. Most of those days I was drunk. I don’t think Jason knew how much I was drinking. A lot of times before he would come home from work, if I was home first, I’d take a few shots just to start the night. Sometimes it would be up to fifteen quick ones.
The problem with an alcoholic is when we drink it changes us. It turns us into a different person. I remember one night actually throwing my phone at the wall and breaking it. That is not Amelia. That is alcohol.
I remember calling the one I love the most horrible names. I remember just blacking out at night then getting up and starting it all over again. Waking up knowing there was a fight but not remembering what was said. I still didn’t think I had a problem. I just told myself I was dealing with a hard relationship. Excuses.
The Downward Spiral
When Jason and I broke up, he moved out and my drinking got really bad. I would go to school, stop at the liquor store, go home, and drink. The entire bottle. Now those ten shots weren’t working. I had to have a pint to feel it.
I remember waking up some mornings and my mom would call me and talk about things we spoke about the night before. I would have zero recollection of talking to her. I would play along as if I knew what she was talking about but could not remember. I had friends in MT that told me I drank a lot. A couple of my friends called me “cocktail girl” as a joke. I thought it was funny. I didn’t think it was a concern at all because I was dealing with a breakup and I was single. Again, excuses.
When I moved back to Utah is when it started to click that maybe I had a problem. I was so used to living by myself and doing whatever I wanted. Now, suddenly, I was back in a religious setting where nothing I would normally do was allowed. I remember panicking because I didn’t know where I was going to drink at night to “relax.” That didn’t stop me though. I started putting booze in my car and running out all night to drink vodka straight from the bottle.
this photo isn’t of the author
By the time I went to bed, I was so drunk. No one could tell though. I was very good at playing it off. Alcohol was the only way I could sleep at this point. I couldn’t live without it. People would make comments to me about my drinking but I would always defend myself and say I was fine because I’d never had a DUI. Excuses. Excuses!!
Alcoholism doesn’t always mean that you’ve had a DUI. Alcoholism is a disease. You can’t just have a drink like a normal person and enjoy it. There is no controlled drinking and never will be. You will kill yourself trying to make yourself like other people.
Weekdays were horrible. I would get up every day hungover. Throwing up in the shower was a normal routine. There was one night in the week that I worked the graveyard shift and I always had my bottle in my car waiting for me when I got off Saturday morning. I would drink the entire pint before falling asleep, which would leave me waking up hungover at 2pm. Working for Hospice it was especially hard because I saw a lot of death. My patients and their families loved me, but I always wondered why. I hated myself. I always though “if only they knew the kind of person I really was.”
On the weekends I would go out with friends and my bar tab was always more than everyone else’s. I would get so drunk that sometimes my friends would have to pull over so I could get out of the car and vomit. By the time I got home I was so drunk that most of the time I couldn’t make it upstairs without holding on to everything in sight. My mom would come upstairs and ask me what I had been doing and I was so drunk I could barely hear the question.
There was one night I fell down eleven stairs. My mom found me at the bottom. I slightly remember that night and also some nights trying to smooth things over telling her I only had one drink, but she knew I hadn’t. Lying to her was the only thing I knew how to do when it came to alcohol. I couldn’t hurt her anymore than I knew I already had. I had to lie.
Most of the time I was still nursing the bottle in my purse that she couldn’t see. I know one day I am going to have to apologize to her. She deserves that. She never deserved waking up at 2am from me falling down a flight of stairs. I can’t imagine the worry I put her through. Maybe one day when I have my own child I’ll understand. I know that my mom is the only one in this world that could handle me and God knew this when he gave her to me. That is one thing that I am grateful for through all of this.
Rock Bottom
I drank every day but weekends I went all out. Saturday nights I’d go through a half gallon of vodka alone. Because of that, Sunday’s were never really the best days. The only word I’ve been able to associate with them are “hungover.” I have been hungover to the point where I throw up ’til I go to bed at night. This happened most Sundays.
sober on the left, while drinking on the right
My mom would ask me why I would lay in bed all day and I would just say I was tired from the work week. Most of the time I would just lay there and cry because I wanted to change so bad and be like a normal person. I would look on Facebook and be so jealous of my friends who were out doing things. I wanted to be like that, but didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to be normal. I was a slave to the bottle. It was my friend but it was also my worst enemy.
It was a hate/love relationship. When it was around, it called to you and made you feel like the only way you’re going to feel good is if you drank or that you won’t be able to sleep unless you got drunk. It’s a never ending battle and it takes a wake up call to actually change.
My wake up call happened a few weeks ago. I remember waking up one Sunday morning and being completely soaked in my own urine. I had drank to the point where my brain was no longer connected to my body. I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t be here typing this and if it weren’t for my dog, I wouldn’t be. I have never in my life felt like that. It was that moment of low that I can’t explain.
I knew that I had to do something, because if I didn’t I’d die. I can’t live like that anymore. I can’t and I won’t. So here I am. It took me a couple weeks to decide to quit after that incident, but here I am.
I’m not going to lie and say I enjoy being sober. My body feels better, but because of how my brain works I just naturally like being drunk. I won’t give in though. I won’t. I am going to overpower the one thing that has overpowered me. I’m going to take this challenge that God has given me and make it just a slight stepping stone to my next place.
I hope one day I can help other people that struggle with addiction. I’ve got this. Today, day seven. One week sober. Come with me on my journey to sobriety.
Thanks for reading my story 🙂
Today I celebrate day 103 🙂
I am a completely different person inside and out!
me at 90 days!
by Sally Rosa | Mar 12, 2015 | Addiction Articles, Sobriety For Women
By Tim Myers
How to Deal with a Relapsing Roommate
The number one phone call us people in recovery get goes a little something like this – “my roommate is using…what do I do?” This happens every day in recovery communities like Delray Beach and, if you’re living with a recovering alcoholic, it can 100% happen to you!
If three people move into an apartment, one of them will most likely use. Those are the facts. I’m not being pessimistic, just realistic. So, for all of you out there who may find yourself in this predicament, here’s a handy guide.
If your roommate is drinking, you should…
STEP ONE: Have a House Meeting
Confront your roommate together, never one on one.
Bring along someone with more time than you and someone who’s been in this situation before. Ask your roommate if they’ve been using. Point out several things that you’ve noticed about their behavior that makes you believe this.
If the deny it, you can ask them to take a drug test. You can pick these up at any local drug store. Once you have confirmed that they are using, move to step two.
STEP TWO: KICK THEM OUT!
“I can’t do that, they’ll have no where to go!” or “I can’t do that we have rent to pay.” These are poor excuses to kick someone out.
100% of the time the situation gets 100% worse if you don’t make the using roommate leave. Never ever has it worked out. Never.
Tell them they can’t live here anymore and they have to leave right away. Now, you don’t have to be a jerk about it. They’re sick and suffering, so be compassionate and helpful. You can do this in step three.
If your roommate is accepting help and wants to be sober move on to steps three to five. If not, stay away. Ask them to leave, call the cops if they won’t, and above all else, keep you and your home safe.
STEP THREE: Help Them Find a Halfway House
Your relapsing roommate is broken and scared right now. Help them get on the phone and help them find a place to stay. There are many halfway houses and many will work with your roommate on payments if they have a job. Once you have a place that your roommate has committed to, move on to step four.
STEP FOUR: Take Them To A Meeting
By taking them to a meeting you’re showing your roommate that you still care about them and their recovery. They’ll remember this and hopefully they’ll do the same thing for another person if the situation arises.
This will also put them in a good mood and get them back on the right path before they even step foot in the halfway house.
STEP FIVE: PRAY!
This is the most important step because it’s showing God that you care for your friend and that you’re grateful that you’re still sober.
Take this time to reflect on all the blessings in your life and ask for help for your roommate. In trying times like these, it’s easy to forget to pray, but praying is probably why you’ve stayed sober. It’s probably what your roommate should have been doing.
