By: Sarah Thompson
I vividly remember the last day I woke up with a hangover. It was a Sunday in April when I opened my blurry eyes and tried to piece together my surroundings. I was in my own bed, yet I couldn’t recall how I ended up there. I had turned on the TV to watch a movie, but everything else was a blur. Somewhere along the way, I had polished off a bottle of wine and crawled into bed. My mouth felt parched, my throat was scratchy, and my heart raced as if it were trying to escape my chest. I swore to myself, “Never again!”—a promise I had made countless times before.
That Sunday passed slowly, and I kept my vow simply because I felt so terrible. All I craved was water and rest, but life doesn’t pause for a hangover. My daughter and I had plans to attend a play, and her hopeful face urged me not to let her down. So, I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and into the glaring sunlight.
Ah, the sun—an adversary for anyone struggling with addiction. In darkness, it’s easy to conceal our imperfections and mistakes, but the bright light exposes everything. It feels like the universe is mocking us with its beauty, highlighting where we feel we don’t belong. That sunshine became my kryptonite.
I managed to resist alcohol that day, but by the following evening, the memories of my hangover faded, and I found myself pouring another glass of wine. I thought I deserved it; after all, I had just returned from my uncle’s funeral. Turning on the TV, I was confronted with disturbing news about a bombing at the Boston Marathon. I felt overwhelmed with sadness and despair, seeking a way to numb the pain. As I sipped my second glass, I heard it—a voice. Was it divine intervention? My conscience? Perhaps I was losing my mind? Regardless of its source, what it said struck me deeply.
“This isn’t helping. This won’t bring your uncle back. This won’t ease the pain in Boston. This won’t make anything better, but it is making you disappear. Come back.”
For a fleeting moment, clarity broke through the haze, revealing who I had become. I was a thriving professional, a mother to two wonderful children, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend. Yet, I felt all of that slipping away. Initially, I drank to unwind or celebrate, but soon I relied on alcohol to escape. I managed to keep it together during the day, but by nightfall, my mind was racing, and alcohol became my off-switch.
The truth is, when you turn yourself off, you miss out on life’s experiences. Avoiding feelings, both good and bad, prevents you from truly living. I felt like I was constantly running without a finish line, drowning in my struggles despite loving my family and working hard. I felt isolated, burdened by a problem I believed I had to face alone. Shame and fear gripped me. How did it come to this? What would others think if they knew? I knew I couldn’t continue like this, but I lacked the skills to cope without wine. Wine was my companion during celebrations, my comfort in sorrow, and my means to unwind. Still, I recognized that this path could only lead to further darkness.
The day I put down the wine, I felt utterly alone, convinced I was the only woman who had failed so miserably at life. I didn’t understand then that connection is the antidote to addiction. It was the stories of other women that helped me find the support I so desperately needed. There is genuine strength in sharing our struggles; addiction does not discriminate, impacting individuals of all backgrounds, ages, and circumstances. But recovery is achievable, and it offers a remarkable way to live.
In recent years, my life has transformed in profound ways. Rewiring my mindset and learning new coping mechanisms has been the most challenging endeavor I’ve ever faced. But with persistence, my journey grows increasingly rewarding. Today, I’m thriving. My depression has lifted, I’ve shed 30 pounds, and I launched my own business—turning my passion into my profession. My health is better than ever, and I am a happier mother, wife, and friend.
Even on my toughest days in recovery, I feel infinitely better than I ever did while drinking. I once believed that giving up wine would render my life dull and unexciting, but abandoning that final bottle marked the beginning of a vibrant new chapter. I can now be the mother and woman I aspired to be. Perfection is not my goal, but I strive for my best. Some days are still a struggle, yet I know that choosing to confront life rather than numb it with wine makes the journey all the more beautiful. It may be challenging, but it is unequivocally worth it.
For more insights on navigating life’s challenges, check out this post. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, CryoBaby offers reliable syringe kits to help you on your journey. For additional resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit WomensHealth.gov.
In summary, I share my journey from the depths of addiction to the light of recovery. Through connection, support, and self-discovery, I’ve learned to embrace life fully, and I encourage others to do the same.
Leave a Reply