Throughout my life, I’ve always had a rebellious spirit, yet I managed to create an image of a perfectly organized existence. A loving partner, a child, a secure yard. Every Sunday, I would have a roast cooking in the oven, and I’d prepare Eric’s lunches each night, cutting his sandwich precisely in half. But beneath this facade, an inner beast lay silent, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. It chose my most fragile time to emerge. When I reached out, trusting it, it pushed me over the edge.
When I hear people say, “I conquered my addiction,” I can’t help but chuckle. You never truly “conquer” addiction. It’s not a game to win or a phase to look back on with embarrassment. Addiction lurks, always present, like a linebacker poised to tackle you. Sobriety is merely a temporary gift, not a trophy you can hang on the wall. It’s a gaping void that only those who grieve understand—the friend who has always been there, suddenly gone. It’s the ex who calls when you’re at your lowest, yet remains absent in your time of need. It’s a cowardly force you can’t resist, much like the abusive partner you find justifications for. Addiction is a selfish, unloving adversary, and you can never truly defeat it.
You may tiptoe around it, hoping today isn’t the day it strikes, but you never actually overcome it.
I can’t recall my first drink, but I vividly remember my last: Bud Light Platinum on December 31, 2013. I consumed much more that night, but that was the final drop of alcohol that passed my lips. If only it had been something more memorable—a fancy gin martini or a colorful margarita. Have you ever enjoyed a tequila sunrise on a beach in Waikiki? Trust me, that should be the last drink you savor before quitting.
Addiction became a routine. Wine was my nightly companion. I’d unwind after work, cooking dinner while laughing at celebrity gossip on TV. We’d tidy up the kitchen and spend quality time with Shane, showering Eric with affection. Sometimes my companion lingered into the late hours, as we reminisced over old home videos or scrolled through the internet together. Do I miss those moments now? Every minute of every day.
My daily existence revolves around surviving the hours. I live for each passing minute, taking deep breaths, and trying to remain calm.
For those battling addiction, genuine happiness is elusive. The warmth I felt from opiates was my version of joy. They transformed me into a more competent boss, a better parent, a more loving spouse. I won’t lie: when I wasn’t drinking, I was likely high. I saw nothing wrong with this; it was simply my way of life. And if I couldn’t find something to get high on, it became a second job to seek it out.
Addicts don’t typically embrace pride. My mind raced as I clutched my keys, pondering where to go next. But during those dark times, options were scarce.
One evening, while grappling with withdrawal, I slipped into a restless sleep that turned into a chilling nightmare about my plans to end the pain.
Shane, now 27, stood in a black tuxedo with a yellow rose on his lapel. Eric entered the room, beaming with pride as he looked at their grown son. “Your mom would have been so proud of you today.” Shane’s eyes, once the bright blue I adored from the moment he was born, were now glassy. “Yeah…I’m sure she would have,” he replied.
I can’t afford to entertain thoughts of suicide. I plan to dance with my son at his wedding.
Going to rehab was the best decision I’ve ever made. Initially, I walked in with my head held high, thinking I didn’t belong there. The people around me varied widely—from street dwellers to women who had sold themselves for drugs, from men avoiding jail time to housewives like me. I quickly learned how faceless addiction is; we all had that inner beast driving us to seek help.
I spent nights in a room with 25 strangers, listening, learning, and yearning for a second chance at life. The individuals I shared those three weeks with became my lifeline. Each of us held a unique story; some had experienced rehab before, while others were just beginning their journey. It felt like a college dorm for misfits, and thankfully, a few of us emerged with newfound knowledge.
I won’t pretend the past year has been smooth sailing. It hasn’t been easy, nor does it necessarily get easier. But I wake up every day, determined to live another sober day. I strive to find joy in life’s natural pleasures. The secret to sobriety is to never shy away from the highs you can achieve without drugs or alcohol.
Children seem to embody pure happiness. Their world is fresh and beautiful, untainted by cynicism. Each day, I attempt to channel the spirit of 9-year-old Mia, who dreamed of being a writer, cherished chocolate milk, and found joy in being pushed on a swing. I return to my roots, live another day, and wake up once more.
The beast no longer has power over me. My shield is Love, and my weapon is Hope. Even if I stumble in my final fight, I will rise again, ready to keep swinging.
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Summary
The narrative explores a personal battle with addiction, illustrating how it manifests in daily life and the struggle for sobriety. The author reflects on their past, the complexities of addiction, and the journey through rehab, ultimately emerging stronger and more hopeful.