My Personal Experience

Alcoholism runs in my family like a wildfire. It goes back at least four generations that I know of. My mother was a major alcoholic. She drank everyday. She would even go as far as sneaking the stuff, in a non descriptive cup, into my sisters soft ball games. She couldn't understand why everyone was staring at her for how excessively loud she was. She also couldn't understand my embarrassment of the whole situation and why I would go sit in the car barely halfway into the game.

My personal brush with alcohol started out when I was ten years old. My mother would buy malt duck and tell me I could have two (but only two) if I wanted them. I would get a slight buzz, but be nowhere close to falling down drunk. The first time that happened I was eleven.

It started over an accident my mother had involving her being so drunk and doped up on pills she was under the impression she could ride a horse that was not yet quite broke. I begged her not to do it. Needless to say, she did it anyway, and ended up with six broken ribs. She lounged around for six weeks, while I took care of the household responsibilities and my younger sister.

At the end of that time I was ready to pull my hair out. Low and behold what did I discover in the refrigerator but a twelve pack of malt duck. I got completely wasted. The sad thing is no one in my family knew it until hours later when my mother ordered me to turn the TV off, and I was staggering. She screamed at me and lectured me, never once thinking about that maybe she was the one who got me started on it to begin with. Later on she said she was just mad because I didn't have a hangover.

Now fast-forward ahead in time fourteen years later. In the interim I drank occasionally, but didn't have a major problem with it. At the age of twenty-seven my marriage was ending (my idea). Alcohol became my great escape away from my husband and all of the arguing.

My problem with alcohol carried over way past that, though. In fact it's been a steady problem for almost nine years now. I would swear to my family and friends I would never drink again, etc. Then less than a week would pass and I would go right back to it, always with a pre-made excuse handy.

Recently, however, I got so sick of it and realized it would end up killing me. Usually after a binge I would get depressed and suicidal. I started thinking about how my problem was affecting every area of my life and I needed to stop it. I am a private person and I don't feel comfortable with AA meetings. So I am going it alone with the support of my husband. Without him it would be impossible.

I wouldn't recommend that everyone handle their situation the same as I am handling mine, but for me it's working.