October 5th. Every year October 5th is one of the most important days of my life. My sobriety date.
October 4th, 2016 was a messy day. My breaking point. Like most people who suffer from some form of addiction I had pushed my alcoholism far. But October 4th I crossed the line. I compromised my very own values, my character, my deepest core value. I don’t remember much from the rage that came out. But I remember the events leading up to, and the aftermath that I had to clean up for months.
I had 2.86 to my name. I had spent the better part of the last three months unemployed and desperately searching. I had applied to well over 150 jobs and even to the point to where I was applying to the simplest cashiering positions well outside my job skills. My girlfriend had left me 2 months prior from both being homesick for her family and me being completely broke and unable to pay our bills. I had sold many of my personal of effects just to stay afloat with the very basic of needs. I had just recently rented an immaculate 2-bedroom apartment for a year that I could no longer afford. I was living off 1 cup of ramen per day as that’s the very thinnest I could stretch my food budget. I was broken and lost. I had applied to several government services but was denied for reasons unknown to me. I applied for food stamps; I was denied. I was constantly applying for work, I was denied. My final attempt was to reach out to a faith-based agency, sat in line for 2 hours with at least 3 dozen others for a “lottery raffle” for assistance. I did not make the cut but was offered two pizzas for my time. I had no form of transportation, so I walked 4 miles home. Brooding, angry, disappointed, and broken. I was done. Tanked. Out. Down for the count.
That’s when it hit me……. If I was going to feel this bad, I should at least have something to “fix” it? So, I took my last 2.86 and grabbed a 2 liter of ginger ale from the store and went home. I pulled out my handle of rum, which was a little more than half full, and killed it in 20 minutes. Already trashed my friend came over and saw me drinking and like the “good” friend he was, he made me several more mixed drinks of his own collection. That’s the last thing I remember. The next morning, I woke up and witnessed all my bad choices in laid out in front of me. I destroyed my home. Dishes, walls, cabinets, bathroom etc. I rampaged my home. I eventually found my phone and charged it because I was very clearly not in any position to charge it. Once I had enough charge I looked back at the messages I had sent and the response on my social media truly unraveled me. The rampage in the home wasn’t nearly as devastating as that of what I did to others around me. Good people, kind people. People I loved and valued. I obliterated any relationship I had with anyone, at that time. Complete and absolute sabotage. My unfiltered rage and anguish let loose years and years of harnessed anger and lack of communication in one enormous sweep. Some relationships to this day are still desolate.
I ruined so much of my life with that final sweep with that damn bottle. There were many times before that of course, but this one took all the cakes in the fair. I said terrible things to people. I compromised my appreciation and love and respect for others and most importantly, myself. All because that demon came out full force. I could not control it with that liquid raging through me….
That was 7 years ago. 7 years of better choices have been made since. I am not perfect. I am still struggling with many things today. I still miss alcohol, all the time. But I miss relationships that I cannot repair even more. In 7 years, I’ve managed to find a new home (and a few after), find love (and find a few more after), find love for myself (and getting better), find good friends who respect my sobriety and encourage me (and I find more all the time). The biggest accomplishment of all, I managed to get a masters in counseling and continue to find more and more education and help others with similar stories.
I’m proud of myself. I’m not done yet. I’ll never be done…. Recovery takes a lifetime. Like cancer, like diabetes, Parkinson’s, and any other disorder. The battle is never over. Good days and bad days come and go. I will never be done having to practice the skills I learned. To remember the events that led me to my own salvation. To constantly find friends and people who desire to help me be the best person I can. Hopefully I do the same in return. Addiction is never over. I’m thankful for that night now that I look back. I’m thankful my pain led me to realize I needed so much healing that a bottle could never bring. This is my 7th year in my new life, and I cannot wait to see what the next 7 will be like. Thank you!
