The Ugly Duckling, another memoir of a drunk girl.

INTRODUCTION

If we use the suffering of our past to help others, we turn our pain into purpose.

I cannot speak for all addictions, but I can speak with much experience on the addiction of alcohol; you know that whispered expression, “She’s an Alcoholic.” Except I’m not ashamed to be an Alcoholic, so when you tell others, say it loudly. I am extremely proud of my struggle with this disease and all the beautiful scar tissue it has developed through my soul. It's been several years since I last had a drink; I consider my disease in remission—since at any point in time the obsession to drink can return.

Some people argue about “Recovered Alcoholic” verses “Recovering Alcoholic,” which is basically an argument of semantics. The basis for this debate is rooted in the book of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), which is sweetly nicknamed The Big Book. However there is absolutely no reason to argue with the AA bible—just state your angle and move on. For me, it is essential that I never let go of the reality that I am and always will be an Alcoholic (more to come on this necessity when I illustrate the nasty trial and error of relapsing). Once I assume I am a “Recovered Alcoholic” my mind will talk me into drinking again. So, for sobriety sake (forget semantics), I consider myself a Recovering Alcoholic, and should I drink again, I would be a Practicing Alcoholic. If I still have an allergy to alcohol, if I cannot drink, then I am in fact still an Alcoholic—I have not recovered from the disease, nor do I believe that is possible.

I avoided the rooms of AA for one reason: it was a God-Bible-Thumping-Cult. And I do not join groups or clubs or cliques. Period. I have some paranoia of becoming “one of them” dating back to Junior High when I realized everyone had a “group” but me, and I felt safe that way. Without labels I can be myself and not have to break any group norms or rules, and “myself” is allowed to mold and mend any way my heart so desires. I very much dislike rules and any establishment that forces them upon me, all of which will soon become quite obvious. But let me be the first to say, I was wrong. I was absolutely, completely and wholeheartedly wrong about my God-Bible-Thumping-Cult perspective of AA. I am still not officially “one of them” but yet I am one of them. I have a homegroup that I go to every week, and I believe in the program; without it, I would be dead, no doubt. I am not sharing my story to be an example of AA, but I am definitely sharing my story to offer a solution to others on the same painful path of a living-hell that I was once on.

You do not need to believe in God to read and digest this story. All you need is to be wise enough to remain open-minded on any front presented. If I read something with boxing gloves on, I will always find a fight to participate in. Yet, when I read something as a simple spectator, merely amused by what is going to come about, I can digest what is presented and later decide what works and what does not. A hard lesson in my young life was knowing when to yield and when to battle. But I’ve learned that to grow, I must always yield first in order to witness and then battle when, and only when, it’s appropriate. My sharing this story is me intentionally choosing to battle with the darkness of addiction. I learned the hard way: there is no happiness at the bottom of any sort of bottle.

I am either open-minded or blind—I cannot be both.

CHAPTER 1

If there is a devil, it exists in addiction. And if the devil has a lover, it's society's lack of comprehension on the matter.

The connotative definition of an Alcoholic is someone that doesn’t know how to control their drinking. This is society's understanding of the word Alcoholic and it is harmfully inaccurate. The denotative definition is a person with an addiction to the consumption of alcohol or the mental illness and compulsive behavior resulting from alcohol dependency. This is a hereditary disease and it is absolutely not a matter of self-control. The common misunderstanding that Alcoholism is just a lack-of-control issue is exactly what keeps people from not only entering the rooms of recovery, but from staying sober once there.

I was listening to NPR recently and there was an interview that made my heart sink, or my academic mind flare, maybe both. There was an interview of a man, a famous chef of some sort, and also a recovered/ing Alcoholic. He was asked by the interviewer if when he was drinking and almost losing his wife, kids etc., was his restaurant [which he kept successfully running] just too important to him, "Was that the one line you wouldn’t let yourself cross?" the interviewer asked. So essentially, the interviewer is asking, or rather implying that Alcoholics can in fact control their drinking, IF the reason is important enough for them to control it.

Anyone one else see a problem here? There is no controlling drinking for Alcoholics, and when we drink, there is absolutely no line we will not cross; if we drink long enough, we will cross them all. The interviewers question is a clear example of his ignorance on the subject of Alcoholism. With his question he tells us that he believes Alcoholics have some amount of control over their drinking, IF only the matter is important enough to them. So in other words, his wife and children were not important enough to him, but the restaurant, now that was a line he wouldn't cross. "Hmmmm" said all who were really listening.

NO MATTER HOW IMPORTANT something is, our drinking will take it down if we don't stop it. Like a raging forest fire, it will not stop on its own.

Much to my relief the chef answered just as I hear in the rooms of recovery, he said something along the lines of: “If I had continued drinking, I would’ve stopped at nothing . . . I would have stolen if I had to.” And he went on to say that during his first year of sobriety he didn't drive and was never left alone; because that is the reality of this disease. There are no lines we won’t cross, for it is progressive (that means the addiction and reaction to alcohol gets worse and worse over time), and eventually this thing takes over all aspects of our life—no matter how important to us.

People that believe we can control our drinking convince us that we just need to try harder to do so, and many of us try to control it, over and over and over. But in reality, Alcoholics are allergic to alcohol—when we drink, it controls us, it is NEVER the other way around. Society's lack of understanding on the subject of Alcoholism not only keeps people out of the rooms of recovery, but it also decreases their chance of staying there.

In the beginning, most, if not all Alcoholics resist the idea that they have a problem with alcohol. We tend to be a group of like-minded individuals, many of which have immense pride and assumed self-control. We do not like rules, we rarely fit in and we always want more. More of whatever it is. So, when our spouses or mothers, like both of mine, tell us it’s just a matter of control and to try harder, we are quick to believe them. We are quick to say, “Ok, I don’t have a disease that makes me a loser—I just need to try harder.”

I told my mother in January 2007 that I had a problem drinking, she told me to get it together and learn how to better manage it. It wasn’t until 2010 when I lost my job that I considered once again that I had a problem. My then boyfriend, now husband, didn’t even believe Alcoholism existed. He believed too that is was merely a control issue that only weak people are talked into having a problem with. And so, from 2007-2010 I drank more and more and more, until I lost my job due to drinking. In the three months from the time of losing my job of five years to going into rehab, I managed a lot of damage. My son decided he had enough and left to live with his dad, I had three hospital stays, one in which I pulled out my IVs (twice) trying to escape, and a mysterious black-eye while at home alone in a blackout. I would lose three days at a time—I would have a drink and wake up three days later, half alive, dehydrated and hungry. I began to believe something was literally taking over my body and I went somewhere else for the duration. Each time I was simply trying to control it, I can do it this time, I really can. And then I would wake again, with my first thought being: “Damn it, I did it again.” And then I’d swear off alcohol for hours, days or weeks, and inevitably I would try again. After my 28 day stay in rehab I managed another month of sobriety, and to reward myself, and also to prove I can control this thing, I drank again. And this time I managed my first, and hopefully my only DUI.

I spent the next three years relapsing. I would get some time and I would either reward myself or test the waters again. I consider myself an intelligent person, I have degrees to prove it! Yes plural, I have a Master’s and a Bachelor’s and two Associates degrees; doncha know I can lick this drinking thing on my own—my mother and boyfriend told me so? I thought I was proving that I could control drinking, when in reality, I was proving that it controls me.

It may not look like it on paper, but rehab saved my life. Rehab introduced me to another perspective of AA, not one in which they praised God and Bibles, but one where they all shared a common struggle and a common goal. It was the first place and time I raised my hand, with no shame, and said “Hi, my name is Tara, and I’m an Alcoholic.”

Needless to say, I had a hard time with Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable. But my time in college taught me to never give up, so I kept going to meetings. I didn’t believe in a God (graduate school made me a hardcore Agnostic), but I could somewhat get on board with a "Higher Power." I questioned and doubted everything everyone said, but I had eyes and ears—it was clear something in those rooms was working.

For a long time I believed they said it was a “progressive disease” just to scare us into not drinking again. I had to learn everything empirically, the hard way. In many ways I was trying to prove them wrong and show them how very different I was—that what worked for them, just wouldn't work for me. But I was desperate and so very broken; I had tried everything and everything kept getting worse. So I listened when I showed up, and I heard them say "Keep Coming Back" and "Don’t Quit Before the Miracle Happens." I mostly doubted all their bullshit, but I kept coming back anyway; they had something I wanted: sobriety and joy. And still much to my surprise, a miracle did actually happen. And eventually I found the old me when I had some real sobriety, and I remembered: the old me can handle anything, even Alcoholism.