Thursday, August 27, 2009

Steppin off ...


I've been encouraged by two of the most important people in my life to write about my journey. I can't decide whether or not I really want to start at the beginning or if I will just begin where I am today and change directions as I go along.

I am almost 19 years abstinent from abusing alcohol. I have been living truly sober for a little over 7 months. My return to the AA community was a product of divine intervention and one of the most pivotal conversations of my life. I separated from the community a little over 16 yrs ago, when I believed that I had "graduated" from the program, given that I participated in group therapy for addiction issues for 2 and a 1/2 yrs, and the fact that my desire to pick up a drink was no longer a temptation. I also didn't relate to the people in meetings, viewing AA as a "cult", a place where people stayed stuck and told war stories. My eyes were closed. I didn't want to belong; mostly I realize now it's because I never had a sense of fitting in anywhere for the better part of my life.

My entry into this world was a place of complete unknown. I never met my biological mother or father. I was given up for adoption. I was chosen by a husband and wife that had tried to conceive children and were unsuccessful. Perhaps I served as a distraction. Or to save them from themselves. My adopted father was a Korean war vet and I would only come to learn after he died about the horrific things he witnessed there. For as long as I can remember, my father drank alcoholically. Except for a brief period of time when he was in rehab and attempted to get sober -- about 2 years before he died. My mother was a housewife and co-dependent. A product of her generation's conditioning that brainwashed women into staying in bad marriages no matter what. It's what you do. It's what she did.

I can remember what beer smelled like on the breath of my father. I was repulsed by it as a child and seduced by it as a teenager. It was the magic elixir to numb all pain. I was transformed when I was under the spell of alcohol. I was invincible and the life of the party and carefree. By the time I was 20 yrs old, I couldn't live without it. I couldn't function for even a few hours without some booze to fuel my insides. It was at this very time I had my first panic attack while I walked from my apartment a mile from my college campus and thought that I was about to die. A good buzz took away the panic ... temporarily. A 3-day binge really wiped out any panic and afterwards, the anxiety was ten-fold.

And the pattern continued ... 3 day binges escalated to daily ones and the dates on the calendar blurred into one another. Waking up in piss-soiled jeans or with 1 shoe on or vomit lingering on my shirt was a normal occurrence. I had bloated up to 190 lbs at my worst (keep in mind, I'm only 5' 2"). Regular trips to the E.R. and hospital specialists also became routine, as the symptoms from the panic attacks became more severe and I believed that I was having cardiac arrest or that my lungs stopped working or that I had a brain aneurism.

It took me 5 years, but I actually graduated from college. With a 2.9 grade pt average. Supposed to be a special education teacher but changed my major in my junior year to psychology so I could hide away with the lab rats rather than be front and center with the retarded children. My mortarboard had masking tape letters that could be read from an aeriel view: "The party's over". I was a disgrace to my parents, completely shit-faced when they arrived to my apartment on graduation morning. I stayed on for 3 more days after graduation, terrified to begin life on the "outside".

I am keenly aware in this moment that my palms have become sweaty and my heart is pumping at full kilter. I am going to take heed and listen to my body's signal that it's time to stop here, for now.

Thanks for listening.

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