Hey there! I’m Alex, and yes, I’m an alcoholic. I’m also a mom. “I’m an alcoholic.” I’ve said those words countless times over the past few years, but I remember the very first time I uttered them in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting—I was a mess, tears streaming down my face.
Just before the meeting, I had a bottle of whiskey and a 12-pack stashed in my truck. I passed by an AA meeting venue and, on a whim, decided to step inside. I still can’t explain why I did it. Was it fate? A gentle nudge from the universe? Whatever it was, it changed my life. I sobbed as I walked through those doors, and to my surprise, several women rushed to comfort me. For the first time in a long while, someone seemed to genuinely care without a hint of judgment.
When the meeting ended, I found myself heading back to my truck, the liquor waiting for me. I felt guilty. Everyone was so kind and understanding, and yet I was walking away with a list of phone numbers for support while I still planned to drink. I had that craving, you know? But I didn’t go back to the meetings because, honestly, I wasn’t ready to quit. I couldn’t even muster the courage to tell my teenage son about my half-hearted attempt to get sober.
If you’ve never battled addiction, you might be wondering what’s wrong with me. Addiction and motherhood are often seen as opposites—can you truly love your child and still be drawn into the depths of addiction? The answer isn’t simple. Perfection doesn’t exist in parenting.
My mother was an alcoholic, but she passed away before I could know her. My dad drank occasionally, but he was never a heavy drinker. I only saw him intoxicated once, and looking back, I realize it was likely due to his own struggles with depression. That’s something I relate to deeply; depression and anxiety can be relentless foes. When I drink, it’s my way of quieting that storm in my mind. I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar II disorder, which means I often hover in a hypomanic state. Sometimes, the mania takes over, and in those moments, my brain convinces me that alcohol is the antidote.
Many people reach for a glass of wine after a long day, but I might down a pint of whiskey to silence my chaotic thoughts. That false sense of happiness I find in alcohol often masks the internal war I’m fighting. I still remember the shameful night I attended my son’s basketball game while drunk—it’s a memory that haunts me.
I find myself questioning why I drink. The depression looms large, even if the bottle seems to provide a temporary reprieve. I know I’m labeled an alcoholic, and that label weighs heavily on me, especially as I strive to be a good mother. My son’s well-being is always in the back of my mind, and even as he approaches adulthood, my struggle with addiction continues.
I’m doing my best to navigate this tough road, battling my mental illness while trying to avoid teaching my son unhealthy habits about drinking. In my 20s, movies like Bridget Jones’s Diary and Leaving Las Vegas glamorized drinking as an escape. Back then, it all seemed so appealing—easy to get swept up in someone else’s story while feeling like you were living it too.
I don’t drink every day, and I can often go weeks without a drink. But those moments of temptation still arise. I used to claim, “I’m not an alcoholic; I’m just a binge drinker.” But deep down, I know the truth: I am an alcoholic. Acknowledging this is a tough step, especially when striving to be a great mom. I know I’m not alone in this struggle.
There are other moms out there who also create their own chaos, drink by drink. They must wonder if they’ll ever feel “normal” again. Ultimately, I have to decide my path, and it’s often the easier route that calls to me. I’m a smart woman who knows right from wrong—just doing my best, even if my choices aren’t always wise. Remember, if you’re in this boat too, you’re not alone.
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In summary, being a mother and grappling with alcoholism is a complex journey filled with ups and downs. It’s essential to acknowledge the struggles while seeking support and understanding. You’re not alone in this fight.