Fearful To Hopeful
WHEN I came into AA, I didn’t know I was an anxious person. The front that I’d built over the years convinced me that I was tough, savvy and streetwise. This pretence at being cool was the persona that I clung to in the hope of keeping those around me close. But I’d reached a point where the distance between my inner and outer world was so vast, and the pain of that so great, that I simply couldn’t carry on. As the youngest of three sisters, I was always trying to catch up with the other two, always seemed to be getting the wrong end of the stick, being too much or not enough. I was a natural target for teasing and bullying and took all this as evidence that I was a problem that needed to be fixed. When I look back, I can see that I was fearful from a very early age – fearful, awkward and anxious.
Fast-forward to my early teens, I’m in a boarding school, terrified and not understanding the rules, trying to follow in my sisters’ footsteps in the hope of making friends and avoiding bullying. In my first year I’m introduced to booze and fags. It’s like I’ve been given a pass to join the cool girls, and I ignore the fact the fags make me nauseous, and that I can’t stand the taste of alcohol and orange squash! This is what I’d been longing for, a way to be cool, a way to fit in. Back in London during the holidays I befriended a group of local teenagers who were hanging out, drinking, smoking and experimenting with other substances. I was introduced to all kinds of music and a counterculture that lit me up. This was the kind of belonging I wanted – as long as I was up for a drink and a laugh, I was in.
Who knows if I was born an alcoholic, but I can say that in my teenage years I was using it to medicate my feelings. There was a lot going on in my family that I couldn’t understand and didn’t have the maturity to process, and drinking gave me a way out. I’d leave another unbearable situation at home, find my crew, and get smashed. When I put the drink down 20 years later, I didn’t know who I was – drink had been the solution to the problem of being me. Putting down my medication and facing myself without a drink or drug was terrifying.
I tried for about two years to stop on my own and every time I ended up on a bender, adding to my self-loathing, my remorse, disgust and despair. I took my final drink in New York on one of my dry sprees.
On New Year’s Eve my boyfriend and I were going to a party, and I was giving myself a night off the wagon. A few drinks in and I was off my face, asking strangers if anyone had drugs. I remember people looking at me with suspicion and disdain, I can only imagine how desperate and messy I must have appeared. Next thing, I was puking and staggering out of the club. I hailed a cab and went home alone – being dropped in a street I didn’t know in an area I’m not familiar with. The booze gave me a false sense of bravado. Two nights later I went out drinking, it ended in a violent argument with my boyfriend. I woke the next morning covered in bruises, emotionally and physically sore. As I lay on the bottom bunk of a single bed, my boyfriend snoring next to me, I imagined the heartbreak my parents would feel if they could see me here. They’d only wanted the best for me. They’d done what they could to give me a good start in life, and here I was battered and lost.
In the midst of despair, I had a moment of clarity – I saw that I was creating the hell I was living. It wasn’t because of what had happened in my family, it wasn’t because the world was a terrible place of violence and suffering, I saw there was no one and nothing to blame for my drinking. I was desperate to stop medicating myself with booze and I couldn’t. In that moment I knew I needed help. When I stepped into my first AA meeting in Brixton, I was raw and desperate. I remember the warm welcome I was given, and while I don’t remember what was shared, I walked out with a sense of hope. If it hadn’t been for those meetings and my sponsor, I don’t think I’d have found my way through the early days without picking up a drink. My mind was too frantic and my emotions too overwhelming to manage on my own.
“Keep it in the day,” people would tell me, “Get to bed tonight without picking up a drink, that’s all you need to do today.” I wanted AA to act as an immediate fix, like the booze, but it didn’t work that way. Having put the drink down I started the slow process of getting to know myself. Inspired by the honesty of people in the Rooms, I found the courage to be honest with myself and others. AA became the first place where I didn’t have to leave part of myself at the door in the hope of being accepted. After 18 years of sobriety my life is so different from those days of drinking. I keep my life simple and find that works well for me. I’ve slowed down and now have time to appreciate the beauty of the world around me. I’m in a loving marriage, and my wider family and friends can count on me. I’m a grateful member of a thriving AA Fellowship and continue to learn and grow in this community.
ROSE, Liverpool