Today, 553 days ago, almost at this very moment, I was going to bed sober for this first time in a very long time. I don’t remember much about that day other than I cried for the better part of it, terrified of what was to come, and I couldn’t wrap my brain around what had just happened. My marriage was over after 3 short months and there was nothing I could do about it. After years of trying to overpower my addiction and manage my life, it finally won. Alcohol had taken everything away from me, and I had been too drunk to see it coming. I was powerless. The mess I was in seemed too big for me to fathom, and strangely enough all I wanted was vodka. I remember being so angry at my dad for finding the bottles I had hid under my front seat earlier that night and dumping them out. Crazy huh? The one thing that robbed me of so many things and wrecked the future I wanted so badly still had power over me. In a weird way, alcohol had become my friend and I wanted the numbness it gave me. I felt weak. The low that I felt that night and the weeks and months to follow is something I hope to never feel again.
I haven’t blogged in a year and I have really missed it. I’ve wanted to write, but haven’t really known what to say. When I started this blog one of my goals was to only share uplifting things and all the positivity that being sober has given me. It worked for the first year, and although I was honest in my writings, I was leaving out a big portion that I feel like now is more important. The really hard stuff. The mess that comes with healing. The stuff you don’t want people to see in fear of looking weak. The days you go without brushing your teeth or taking a shower. The depression. The endless hours of sleep to escape from it all. The triggers. The moments that even hearing a motorcycle pass your house in the summer leaves you in in a puddle of tears the entire night and most the next day. The nights you have to text your mom at 3 in the morning to come down and sleep with you because you can’t stop crying. The days you sit and beat yourself up for not being able to do all the things you wanted to do. Move out of state, start school, lose weight, the list goes on. Feeling like nothing works out and everything falls through, but not being able to do anything about it because the depression is so bad you can’t get out of bed. This is all so real you guys, healing is so hard, and although sobriety is amazing, it’s something that you have to fight for every single day. It takes work. It takes an incredible amount of patience with yourself. It takes giving yourself grace for making it another day even if the day was spent in bed. So, these are the things I’ve been experiencing the last year, but now as I write this I am not ashamed of any of it, and I think that most people experience these things but maybe are afraid to share it. I hear you. I see you. I empathize with you. I know what it feels like. You’ll make it. It’s hard, but you will make it I promise. The key for me has been letting myself feel all these things, allowing it, sitting with the pain, and then finding someone to talk to that can help you sort through it all.
Last summer/early fall was when I was at the lowest I had been. 9 months had gone by and I couldn’t figure out why I was still crying every day and why I couldn’t get relief. I had finally found an antidepressant that I felt was giving me a little bit of relief, but not enough. I wanted to die. Truly. I would lay in bed at night hoping I didn’t wake up the next day. I would take an extra sleeping pill or two in hopes it would maybe work. All I could think about was Annie dying and how on earth I would ever deal with that. I became obsessed with what I fed her, if she coughed or made a weird noise I would panic and google every symptom I thought I saw. I remember one night crying so hard in bed, hugging her, whispering in her ear that when she died I wouldn’t be long behind her. I had a plan to take my life as soon as she died, and when I thought about it I felt a little bit of relief that I needed. It was in that time that I started seeing a therapist who changed my life as I knew it. I’ve been to many therapists in my life who are wonderful at what they do, but there was something about Micky that my soul needed. I found my person and I am oh so grateful every day that I made that phone call.
My first appointment with Micky I remember just crying on the couch for what seemed like hours. I let everything out that I was feeling, told her about every relationship I had been in, my marriage, sobriety, and all the stuff in between. Since then I have been there every Sunday on her couch at 11:30am, and it has changed my life. She was exactly what I needed and has been there for me whenever I need her. If I’m having a bad moment, I text her. She reminds me of all the wonderful things about myself that I had forgotten. She taught me how to let go and walked me through the process. She has shown me that it’s ok not to be ok some days and to be a mess. She also taught me how to manage negative thoughts and what to do when I feel like I’m spinning out of control. She showed me how to get through the bad days and not letting them turn into bad months. She has done EMDR therapy on me and it has been incredible. The choice to start seeing her has been the best decision I’ve made next to getting sober, and I’ll never forget the impact she has made on my life.
So, I guess what I’m saying is if you are struggling, talk about it. Message me if you need to. Talk to your family, a trusted friend, and GET INTO THERAPY with the RIGHT therapist. I can’t say it enough. It will change your life. My life is finally looking up now. I have goals that I’ve set with an intention to complete them, not just saying I’m going to do it and then not. I’ve been known for that in my addiction, but I refuse to live in that place anymore. If I say it, I’m going to do it. I am moving into my own place with me and Annie next month (hopefully in Holladay 🤞🏻) and I can’t wait. I have an appointment for a showing on Sunday and am crossing my fingers I get it. I’ve let go. Finally. I’ve accepted what has happened to me and am no longer being defined by it. I got a new job at an assisted living in Holladay and am finally getting paid what I’m worth. Life is looking up for me, and even though I still have hard days, I am happy. Truly happy. And maybe just maybe I am ready for love ❤️ So, here’s to another 24. I’ll take it!!!