jennikate

When death was the preferable option.

bigsombrero

Sitting in the waiting room while I checked into rehab at the university hospital was a pretty low moment. A 37 year-old man, trembling, could barely walk due to injuries suffered earlier in the week. Overweight, unshaven, and staring into emptiness. My depression sank to a new low as I watched my worried mother fill out some forms and sit down next to me in those final moments before I went in the door. My mom didn't deserve this burden. My sister, who had recently lost a 6 month old child to a heart condition, didn't deserve this burden.

I was wearing the same dress shirt and khaki pants that I'd brought with me on my trip to attend my grandma's 97th birthday party the week before. I was only supposed to be in town one night, so I didn't pack any other clothes. But I'd collapsed into seizures before the party and was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. I woke up staring up at an EMT saying "Do you know who you are? Who is the President of the United States?" They were just trying to bring me back to reality. After an overnight stay at the hospital I finally was able to get up, and realized I'd crapped in the bed. Just north of that stain was a dried blood stain crusted to the pillow because I'd nearly bitten my tongue off during my grand mal, which explained the 15 stitches that I felt in my mouth.

Sitting in that waiting room for those final moments before rehab, though. I was finally sober, and I took a good clean look at what had brought me there. My job was gone. My girlfriend and love of my life was gone. Everything I'd worked for was gone. The only thing remaining in my life was my family, and they were scared. "So it's finally come to this", I thought. "What the hell happened to you, man?"

There were other, darker moments - but most of those were under the influence. But at that moment I was sober, and able to clearly look back at the trail of destruction that had led me to this point.

I didn't feel regret, not self-hatred, not even desperation - because when you're desperate you still are searching for hope. I was in a deep well, in a bottomless pit of sadness.

GracieLou

I wish I could describe some dramatic event but there was none. It was just over, finally.

LadyBlue0527

Sorry for plagiarizing Nuudawn, but you couldn't have hit the nail on the head more closely than that.

I had tried to quit 3 times (long term) previously in what could be considered rock bottom, one of those times being because of an OUI (DUI). This time, I woke up on Monday of Memorial Day weekend sick as a dog. I stood in my kitchen pondering my life and the words "I need to quit drinking, I can't do this anymore" entered my mind. It wasn't an ultimatum, it was a fact and I knew it.

zjw

I prayed that I'd quit. I was sent horrible panic attacks that i didnt even know where panic attacks for a good long time. I tried everything to stop those panic attacks nothing worked finally did some reading and wondered if the booze was the culprit. There is an AA pic of this too and its funny I saw it after i envisnioned it and was like OMG thats me I cant find the pic now tho. I pretty much felt like i was stuck in a whirlpool of a well I had no way out no idea how i was going to get out of that pit. I felt it was hopeless it was done I could never get out. Then i heard a voice and a hand extend out and said grab on and dont let go. I said BS you cant help me nothing can help me i'm stuck i've tried everything I'll never get out of this pit. The voice just said to hang on.

somehow I got out. and I thank my higher power for those panic attacks tho it was a funny way of getting me to sober up!

Deckard

One snowflake away from the avalanche.

pinkdog

Hi wiscsober, that's a great description. I feel that if I would've chosen to continue drinking it would have been me saying "just paint it all black" too.

wiscsober

Howling emptiness, Soul sickness....

and yes The Black Night

Junegirl

The ongoing circle of shame and anxiety. I saw myself clearly and honestly one painful night and I saw someone I was really ashamed of. That was my bottom.

June

oak

Shame was a big part of it for me too. And desperation. At the time, I described it as falling off a cliff. I liked this quote from wiscsober "The alcoholic bottom has no sides, topless, black, slick, no toeholds. -- G. Bryan". My life just revolved around alcohol; it seemed more important than anything else. I couldn't see how I could live without it (or with it).

I'm amazed at how quickly it gets bad for me. I initially quit young, but when I have relapsed, it is bad almost immediately.