Exploring the life of an individual living with an alcohol addiction.
The following is based on this brave individual’s own personal diary entries and anonymous interviews.
It entails the battle they fight and how this addiction has affected themselve and those around them.
It’s my struggle to find happiness. It’s my struggle to find self-worth.
Nothing brings me happiness anymore, my husband, my family. I sit here contemplating all the perfect things in my life; I work somewhere I’ve always dreamt of. I have the home that we built from blood sweat and tears, and two children who adore me.
Where have I gone wrong, what is wrong with me? Will I never find happiness again?
My head lays heavy as I try to roll myself out of the pile of green and gold bile that puddles beneath me.
Did it happen again last night? What did I drink this time? How did I get home?
I peel myself off the couch in angst that my children are going to run down the stairs any moment to witness their mother in shambles. I can’t give an explanation for my red eyes and the black bags that hang beneath. Or the scratch marks up my arms and the lipstick smeared across my face.
What would I say to them?
Your mother is a piece of shit, an alcoholic who has found no happiness in her life?
I rush to the bathroom to shower myself, to cover the evidence of my hidden agenda. I clean the evidence of last night ever happening, and once that’s done. I sit at the kitchen table for my kids to run down the stairs and ask me, mummy, why were you working late again last night?
“Mummy just had some problems at work my darlings, let me cook you some breakfast”, I tell them. My heart aches.
I know I am a failure, but where did it all go wrong?
My husband comes down the stairs, no eye contact, and no smile, nothing. He pours himself a cup of black coffee that I had been brewing for him this morning, no thank you, no good morning. One by one, he kisses the children on the head and says “Good morning kids, who’s excited for school today?”
He gazes at me; I know he knows what happened again last night. He shrugs me off as if I’m nothing as if I’m just a worthless houseo with no morals in life. Someone who drinks his or her life away, has self-worth, when will he ever love me again. When will he touch me again?
Wouldn’t you think if he knew I had a problem, he would run to my aid? Why won’t he love me? Support me? Do our wedding vows mean nothing to him?
As I follow him into the bathroom he looks at me. A flurry of questions. “When will you ever stop? When will you stop ripping this family apart? How much longer do I have to lie to our children? When can I say to them that mummy has a problem but she’s ready to get help? When will this day ever come?”
The tears stream down my face, as my body curls into a frail ball. “I know I’m a mess, but what have you ever done for me?”
My anger kicks in and I raise my voice, I clench my fist in a horrifying anger and scream, “WHERE IS YOUR SUPPORT? WHY HAVE YOU NEVER LOVED ME”?
“If I find you in the same state tomorrow morning – a mess and a poor excuse for a mother – I’m taking the children.”
He left for work and he took the children to school.
What would I do if I ever lost my children?
I caked the makeup on my face, to hide the broken women inside. With a cup of coffee in hand, I drove myself to work that day not knowing what tonight was going to hold in store for me.
My boss greeted me as I walked through the office doors, “wow you’re looking vibrant today,” she said.
Little did she know…
I went about my day as per usual. But today we were celebrating our win of a new major client.
Lunchtime came, walking towards the meeting room I heard cork of a bottle pop and hit the wall. Cheers sounded through the room, but I stood there in fear as my boss handed me a glass of the best Don Perignon was handed to me.
The feeling of the cold, crisp champagne touching my lips and swimming over my tastebuds triggered my endorphins. It was then that my happiness set in.
I laughed; I talked and even danced in the meeting room that afternoon. It was the feeling of acceptance that made me feel happy, I felt like I belonged and I wanted to make that feeling stay.
5:30 pm came, and my work colleagues were heading down the road for yet another celebratory drink. One said to me, “hey you coming?”
My instinct told not to, but I gave into my impulse.
It was so wrong but like they say, it felt so right. Alcohol gives me a sense of fulfilment; it gives me the feeling my husband used to give me. I want more and I kept going.
I’m happy and I never want this feeling to leave.
10:30 pm appeared on my watch, and a notification popped up on my phone. My nightmare had come true, “you’ve lost us.”
I dropped and shattered the last glass of champagne, and my heart felted heavy. The room began to spin, as I heard “you’ve f***ed up for the last time.”
I blanked. I remember nothing.
The last thing I remember is waking up on my couch, lying in a puddle of gold bile. With a note in my hand that read, “you’ve lost us, forever now.”
I couldn’t breathe.
2 months on and I’m numb, I haven’t gone and sought help yet. I think now I’ve come to being okay with my kids and husband living away from me. That’s probably the best option right now.
I will find help. I will help myself.
But where do I start?
Stories of addiction and suffering for not only mums or parents but for all should not go unheard. Individuals have the right to express themselves and seek help in an environment where they will not be judged. If you are wanting to better your life or seek assistance, or want to tell your story. Contact your national hotline where there are workers ready to help you through your journey and fight the battle of alcoholism.
You are not alone.