Before I quit drinking, I mean really quit drinking, I wasn’t convinced I needed to quit drinking. I thought maybe, possibly, there was a slight chance I should but I wasn’t convinced. So I found myself looking online at quizzes or lists of warning signs that could help me determine if I was truly an alcoholic or if maybe I was just drinking a little too much due to stress and didn’t need to quit entirely.
When I started writing this article the concept was to write about the point at which seven of us reached the end of our substance use disorder, and sought help. It was to show others that while that point may have looked different to all of us, we all had mounting consequences and a dire need to seek more for our lives—a life worth living, if you will.
People say there’s an epidemic, but I say there’s only me, alone, in a dark house.
In retrospect, this rock bottom of mine was a long time coming. Let me back up a few years, and you’ll see what I mean.
For years, I hid my addiction to prescription pills. In fact, I didn’t even want to call it an addiction. If I called it an addiction, then that meant I had to quit and I wasn’t ready to do that.
Nearly five years ago, I was rapidly drinking myself into an early grave. I was popping pills like they were candy. I wanted to die. Today, in stark contrast, I love my life. I’ll share with you my journey to rock bottom, my journey in recovery, and how I came to live a fulfilling life in recovery; losing 50 pounds, overcoming depression and anxiety, and dealing with life in recovery.
I quit drinking 7 years and 7 months ago or 2,791 days ago - but who’s counting right? A few days after I made the decision to stop, I wrote about it on my blog Babyonbored because in addition to having a problem with alcohol, I also have a tendency to overshare. In the entry, I explained how my favorite stress reliever, anxiety reducer and daily treat had become a nightly obsession.
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