Hi my name is Justine, and I am a recovering alcoholic/drug addict. My sober date is January 25th, 2009, I am currently in a program of recovery and working all 12 steps. I share my experience, strength and hope, for anybody who wants it. I have learned being in recovery that this is a program for people who WANT it not that NEED it, plenty of people need having these 12 steps of recovery in their life but it will only really work for the people who want it and who have the utter capacity to be honest with themselves and somebody else.
I have been drinking and drugging since I was 13 years old, but I am convinced that I had alcoholic and drug addict tendencies before I ever even picked up. I always cared so much of what people thought of me and never felt "right" or fit in, so I thought. I grew up in a family being an only child, even an only grandchild on both sides for a very long time, all eyes were on me that was how I felt. I always had a fear of people and of economic insecurities, and I always had to compare myself to everybody around me, I needed what other people had if it was a relationship or a materialistic item. When I was younger maybe around 11 or 12 years old I developed an eating disorder, my mother told me that I never wanted to have people talking about my weight, she was telling me to protect me, I took it to the next level as most people with the addictive nature do. I became an anorexic bulimic, I would only eat when I “needed” to and when I say needed, I mean when I was having dinner with my family or around people who were watching me, I would not digest anything I would make myself throw up to get every last piece of food out of my system. The making myself throw up either by sticking my fingers down my throat or a toothbrush was really taking a toll on me. I remember watching a movie in a health class in middle school about a girl who would take laxatives that would either make her go to the bathroom or make her instantly get sick, the idea came into my head instantly. I found laxatives in my bathroom cabinet and instantly became addicted to those, some people could argue with the fact that a laxative is not an addictive substance, it isn’t mind altering. But let me just tell you what laxatives did to me, they gave me that freedom and that happiness, they gave me a high, that instant gratification I was looking for, if that isn’t an addictive substance then I don’t know what is. My eating disorder was calmed down but never went away it was always and will always be an obsession that I ask for the willingness everyday.
With friends I climbed the social ladder and still never really felt welcomed or fit in, no matter what group I was hanging out with. I did stuff that most people would be ashamed of at a young age just because of the uncomfortably, that was even before picking up any substance. Alcohol gave me that freedom that I needed to feel myself even just to feel. Alcohol worked for me for a very long time. Alcohol was my best friend, until it turned on me very fast. My disease of alcoholism progressed very rapidly. Like I said earlier I picked up my first drink when I was 13, so it was summer going into 9th grade (summer entering high school). I was with a girlfriend of mine, she wasn’t a girl that I normally would hang around but she wasn’t what you would consider a “bad girl” either, I knew she drank and I wanted to experience what everybody was talking about so I hung out with her, that’s what drugs and alcohol do, you lose sight of the people that really do care about you, you start hanging around with people who you don’t really have much in common with besides drinking or drugging. Either way, we were hanging out and she had a big water bottle filled with 100 proof vodka, at this age and experience I didn’t know what a proof or anything like that was. I took my first shot and I remember gagging I took a couple of more and then I started chugging the water bottle. That ended up with me getting alcohol poisoning and having to get my stomach pumped at the hospital, very close to death. That was my first time consuming alcohol by in no means was that my last. That was what most of my drinking career consisted of, not remembering or keeping track of how much alcohol I was consuming, it was really how ever much I can possibly get my hands on. If I was at a party with only 6 beers I would drink those 6 beers then beg every single person at the party for a beer or some of their liquor they brought or a hit of their joint, for me it was always getting to that next level I always needed “more”, and I was never just satisfied or content. I grew up in I guess you can say a strict house hold, it was stricter then a lot of other households where the friends that I was hanging out with were living. So of course after this first incident my parents immediately grounded me I was on secure lockdown. It was to late for me though, as soon as I tasted that liquor, as soon as I felt that warmth come over me, as soon as I felt that freedom, that looseness that I can finally just be myself and not had care what others thought about me, all bets were off. I was on lockdown but that didn’t stop me from drinking or smoking pot, I would do that on the weekdays on school hours because my parents would never suspect that of me and what were they going to do take me out of having an education?, I think not. Being the addict that I am, I was a great manipulator, if everybody just did what I needed them to do and I can control each situation then I can drink and drug and be merry.
From as early as I can remember I was a blackout drinker, for those of you who do not know what a blackout is it is an alcohol related amnesia, it sometimes could be confused with passing out but do not get that confused. I would blackout and lose periods of my night, I was still conscious so I was still having a conversation with people and doing things that I shouldn’t be doing I was still there but if I would try and remember the next day what I had done the night before it just wouldn’t happen. I needed friends to call me up and tell me what I did last night, who I got into a fight with, who I left the party with, who I made out with and different embarrassing things that I was doing and probably never would have done if I had been sober. At first I thought that blacking out was a normal occurrence, you drink you blackout, your not having a good night if your not drunk where you can’t remember the next day I literally was convinced that was the case for a very long time. I thought that it was normal to keep a garbage pail next to my bed so I can use it for when I needed to go to the bathroom or when I needed to throw up in it, making it to the actual bathroom was in no way possible for me. I thought that it was normal to lose 2 brand new phones in one night, one by accidentally dropping in the toilet and the other by having one of your so called friends steal from you because you were to drunk to function. I thought all of these occurrences were normal for a very long time. What I didn’t think was normal was buying a shirt from the clothing store that I worked for to wear out that night. To coming home so wasted just wearing my bra and nothing else, I had “lost” that shirt that I had just bought earlier that night in a blackout, when my parents had asked what happened to it I had absolutely no explanation for them, mainly because I honestly did not remember what had happened. Another situation that pointed out that maybe my drinking was not normal was; I had came home wasted in different clothes that I had went out in. I had a small puppy that could have only been 2 pounds at the most, my mom was holding the puppy and let my slurring self inside she got angry and fed up with me and hit me over the head thinking that that would wake me up. With out realizing my mom had dropped the puppy while letting her anger out on me, he fell on our marble floor and broke his neck, he immediately passed. Me and my mother were devastated, that was a death directly related to my drinking, but that was not my last time drinking, instead I drank the pain away, I had a lot of self-pity because of that situation and drinking was the only thing that was going to help me “deal” with it, instead of doing the responsible thing and facing reality.
During the progression of my disease I picked up some other substances like cocaine, after that first line I instantly fell in love, just like everything else I could not get enough. I felt like a movie star, a rock star, a model, a beautiful and glamorous celebrity but those were all just that false hopes of self esteem. When that all wore off, and wore off fast it left me feeling guilty, I had self-pity and depression. With out me even realizing that developed into a bad habit real fast, not only that that was a high that last about 15 minutes and then after that it was all about the chase I never got as high or felt as good as I did the line before that and that is the damn truth. I was using cocaine as often as I could, that really brought me down to places that weren’t safe at all, I wouldn’t wish that life upon my worst enemy looking back at it now but I was pretty content living it. Cocaine like the alcohol was my best friend until it turned on me, which was very fast.
I would have these occurrences with blacking out frequently, so frequently in fact that it would be every single time I would be going out and putting alcohol in my body. My friends would call me the next day and tell me all of the horrible things I did the night before, they would say it in such a tone that they were disgusted in me and that I should be disgusted in myself. I did become very disgusted with myself very fast, I was in a very lonely state of mind. Self-pity was creeping up on me. I had thoughts of suicide every now and then but knew that I never had what it takes to actually go through with it. Instead I just convinced myself and told myself I would NEVER drink again, with all honesty damnit I meant it! I would isolate myself for periods of a time and have brief periods of dryness, that just means not drinking but not having a program just pretty much being a miserable human. So I would isolate pretty much turn off my phone and disconnect myself from all people outside, during that I would escape by sleeping, if I had nothing to do that day which I normally didn’t I would lock myself in my bedroom and sleep all day. Me and my parents weren’t talking at this period of time so maybe I would go downstairs for dinner but pretty much not because dinner always meant confrontation and a fight with my parents. Me and my parents could not be in the same room together with out them saying something, me getting defensive and flipping out. My mom pretty much conned me into going to my first AA meeting in January of 2008, I was 18 years old, I liked it. I cried because I related to the speaker that was sharing her experience, strength and hope in the meeting. I immediately decided that this is what I need to do to get my parents off of my back, I wasn’t completely ready to get sober for myself, it was for them. So I went to a couple of meetings, pretty much once a week, I saw these 12-steps on a shade and it looked like it was a different language, people talked about God and I got turned off because I didn’t believe in God at all, there was defiantly no God in my life, so I thought. People would share these elaborate stories and how they have spirituality and it would completely go over my head, I had no clue what they were talking about. I heard such sayings as “promises” and “the gifts of recovery”, and the first thing that popped into my head was “oh wow if I keep staying sober, my parents will buy me this and this and this….” as embarrassing as that is to admit, now that is the truth. I was not taking any suggestions that were given to me, I went to meetings sporadically, I never got a sponsor, opened up any kind of literature. It was only a matter of time before I picked up my first drink, and I did of course do just that. Even though I had thought I had reached my “bottom” I still had not yet.
Things gradually got worse and worse, never better, which of course is a given. My disease progressed even more quickly. My parents weren’t dealing with me anymore so they kicked me out of the house I had a garbage bag full of clothes and a manipulative mind, that got me to stay on the couches of different friends houses. At first I loved it I had all the freedom I had ever wanted, nobody to answer back to, I can actually never stop my drinking because its not like I had to be home at any hour of the night. That wore off real fast, I had never felt so alone before. You really cherish shelter when you don’t have a steady place to go back to. I would fantasize about things I took for granted like taking a hot shower, sleeping underneath the covers in my beautiful bed, petting and playing with my dogs, seeing my wonderful grandmas face and her beautiful smile instead of her looking at me in utter disgust. Some how I would always let my parents to let me back in the house. That gratitude that I just described would last for about a week, then it would all fade away, as soon as the thought of that alcohol entered my mind. I knew I didn’t want to actually drink because I never what would happen, I would get kicked out of my house once again, but it never stopped me.
Last November of 2008 I was a completely hopeless addict, all I wanted to do was just die, I fantasized about suicide more then anything else it clouded every single thought I had. The only time suicide wasn’t a thought of mine was when I had alcohol in my system and was drunk. After yet another incident of me getting kicked out of my house and convincing my parents to once again let me back in, promising them I would follow their every rule and command. I had one argument with my mom, about something so miniscule that I can’t even remember, but that didn’t matter that was my ticking point. I was so depressed I finally had to do something, my dog was prescribed a liquid form of Hydrocoedine I drank the entire bottle I wanted to die, I took a large handful of Tylenol pm extra strength I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up and just do everybody the favor. Nothing was happening to me so I decided to take another handful and still nothing so then I waited some and took another handful. My heart was beating out of my chest, I felt weezy I tried to hold myself from throwing up but I just couldn’t. My parents had heard my throwing up and I remember my mom saying “What you didn’t like the dinner I made for you?”, then they had realized that I was throwing up whole pills so they rushed me over to the hospital. I didn’t want to go, I’m not exactly sure if I just wanted to die or if I really just did want help. I stayed in the cold E.R. for a full 24 hours hooked up to an I.V. I was throwing up uncontrollably and my mom never once left my side, for the first time in a real long time I felt like she cared about me, which I longed for so bad. From the E.R. I went upstairs to a medical floor stayed there for a couple of days hooked up to different machines. My parents and my grandma came and stayed with me as often as possible and I felt safe. I had mentioned earlier how great of a manipulator I was, well I had told my friends that I was hanging out with how my parents were so strict and abusive and how I was so scared of them so they would feel sorry for me so they would let me stay at their houses. When I was hospitalized there were three different incidents that the police came to my house looking for me, thinking that my parents had me locked in my closet or worse that they had killed me. From the medical floor I thought that was going to be it and I was going home straight from there, man was I surprised because that wasn’t the case at all, instead I went upstairs up to the psych ward. My first night there I was so upset I looked around and thought that everybody was crazy and speaking a different language, I didn’t get a wink of sleep. After a couple of days there the people I thought were crazy I was now able to understand them, so I thought that maybe it was me that was really crazy all along. I started to feel safe there, even though I was locked up a hospital I knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt myself with drugs or alcohol or anything. In the hospital they put me on anti-depressants, and they were sure to tell me multiple times not to mix with alcohol.
After getting out of the hospital I did well for a month pretty much just by isolating myself, doing what I do best of course. I was pretty much terrified to drink because I knew I would end up right back to where I was, but by no means was I working a program.