Hello, I’m Emma, and I’m an alcoholic. At first glance, I might not fit the stereotype. As a 36-year-old, educated, middle-class churchgoer, I don’t resemble the typical image of an alcoholic often portrayed in media. However, I’ve come to understand that I carry the alcoholism gene, inherited from my family line.
My father struggled with alcoholism but managed to quit drinking when I was an infant. I never viewed his addiction as a personal failing; rather, I recognized it as a genetic condition that made it difficult for him to control his drinking once he started. Unfortunately, I share that same predisposition.
My relationship with alcohol has always been tumultuous. It resembled a toxic relationship that I couldn’t quite let go of. For years, I found myself trapped in a cycle: I would binge drink, attempt a separation, then return to drinking in moderation, only to end up at the same point, sick and regretting my choices.
Every time I faced the consequences of my actions, I would set new rules for myself to manage my alcohol consumption. “I’ll only drink on weekends,” I would promise. “I’ll avoid hard liquor.” “I’ll stick to beer.” Yet, none of these self-imposed boundaries worked because the real issue was internal—it was my brain’s faulty wiring. When I consumed alcohol, my brain would say, “This feels amazing! Let’s drink more!”
It took me a long time to accept that I had this allergy to alcohol. Occasionally, I would manage to drink in moderation, which led me to a false sense of security. Each time, I was unsure of which version of myself would show up: the responsible drinker or the one who would consume an entire bottle.
While I never became dependent on alcohol or let it interfere with my work or relationships, I recognized that alcoholism is a progressive disease. As noted in the Big Book of AA, just because I hadn’t hit rock bottom didn’t mean I wouldn’t. I could see the potential for it in the distance, and I made the choice to step away from alcohol before I reached that point.
Sobriety hasn’t been an easy path. Alcohol is prevalent in our society—at sporting events, brunches, and even children’s parties. When I decline a drink, people often assume I’m either pregnant or trying to appear superior, which can be uncomfortable.
Without the option of “liquid courage,” I’ve turned to prayer and meditation, and I’m indulging in comfort food. Stress eating has become my new coping mechanism.
If you’re grappling with similar challenges, remember: you are not a failure, you are not alone, and you deserve support. Perhaps today is the day you acknowledge your own struggles. If so, don’t hesitate to reach out. We can share snacks and enjoy each other’s company at social gatherings, reassuring everyone that we’re just fine.
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In summary, embracing sobriety is a challenging yet rewarding journey. Understanding one’s relationship with alcohol can be transformative, and seeking help and community is vital.