My story
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2008
Location: Georgia
Posts: 4
My story
I came here to learn from parents in recovery with a child struggling with addiction.
This is my story
The pictures will not show up here, so note the beginning of the story is refers to the picutes.
Here is a picture of me that I once thought was cute.
After all, the children on my father’s side of the family, and their children, have a similar photo. . It is me, at 4 months of age, propped up with a Coors long neck. Beer and babies, a family tradition. I did in fact learn that I was a gassy baby and my doctor recommended an ounce of beer to cure it. My first drink was at 4 weeks of age. Apparently I was gassy a lot. Beer continued to be my parents medicine of choice. Not to mention vodka or schnapps on the gums or dipped with the pacifier. I don’t blame my family. They did what they knew. And everyone on my fathers’ side knew and knows addiction and mental illness. The side of the family that I worshipped as my role models, I grew to emulate.
Me at 6 months.
I’ll hit the milestones. My first hangover (that I can recognize as a hangover) Age 7-Hot Toddy's from Dad My next 10-Strawberry Daiquiris.. My first experience of alcohol poisoning, 12. My first black out, 13.
Spending my tween' and teen years in Europe afforded me an acceptance of drinking at an early age. The “if you can reach the bar you can drink” times in Europe. This was during the late 70’s, early 80’s.
What then occurred were experiences in binge drinking, more alcohol poisonings, hash, marijuana, huffing, prescription and over the counter drug use and sexual experiences far beyond the norm. My first child at 15, my second at 18 with sprinkles of bingeing throughout my late teens and twenties. Married for 2 years and divorced. Next alcohol poisoning? Why on my 21st birthday of course.
I went to nursing school during the day, bartended at night. Used speed to function and try to take care of my 2 children. I slept 1-2 hours a day for a year.
During this time, I meet my soul mate who stoood by my side on this wild, out of control ride. He's my hero. Today, we have 5 children in our blended family.
In the early 90’s I worked from 7 pm to 7 am. I began to experience insomnia after work. The cure was a beer or two, and then sleep. I can’t pinpoint it, but it soon became a 6 pack then sleep, then a couple of beers before work, when off beer during the days, social drinking etc.
While my drinking was esculating there was an event that pushed be deeper into alcohol. One evening at work, my coworkers and I experienced a nightmare... the sudden death of a young mother. By sudden, I mean walking, talking, smiling and in less than a minute, gone. It was a amniotic embolism, extrememly rare and almost always fatal.
What followed was the desperate attempts to revive her and save her 3 very, very tiny unborn babies. Her babies survived. It truely was a scene I can only describe as surreal and macabe as everything that could possibly be done to save her was done, and fast. No time to think, just do.
In the days following, there was little talk, no time or resources offered to process this whole ordeal personally or as a group. With the exception of dotting i's and crossing official t's. It certainly impacted my confidence as a nurse, my mood at home and of course my sleep....but, you don't dream when your passed out.
Soon I was drinking more before work. Off days, I began sneak drinking to disguise how much I was drinking. I stole so often from my step father who was living with us, while he didn't’t say anything, he installed a padlock on his fridge. I managed to take the door off on more than one occasion.
I was confronted by my supervisor at work. I felt “fine” even after almost a 12 pack during the day and evening before work. Submitting to a breathalyzer and completely indignate, I blew a 1.8. I was summarily fired, reported to the nursing board and reluctantly entered rehab to keep my license.
I played the part of recovering nurse, all the while, starting the day after I left rehab, sneaking again.
Stealing and drinking in the store bathroom, drinking in the attic, in the boys’ clubhouse, in the car, under stairs, in the closet, bathroom and kids room. In the woods, at the park, on the deck. At work, in the parking lot at my nurses group, during group, during AA meetings…..the list is endless. I continued to drink this way.
Confronted at nurses group, I again entered rehab, determined to keep my license and win this battle. I drank the day after leaving rehab, yet again. Not long after I was reported to the board, I was presented me with a consent order; an agreement to follow a certain mandatory plan for 5 years under probation to keep my license. This involved mandatory AA and weekly nurses group and weekly impaired professional groups. With the exception of AA, these were out of pocket costs.
This time I was not determined, I was angry. Who the hell were they to tell me what to do? I stopped going to nurses group. And I, during a hazy period, stapled my nursing license to my consent order, wrote **** you across it, and sent it in. Done.
Everything I worked for gone. Something I deeply regret. I was a great nurse. But now, I was going to be a great drunk.
For the next 5 years, everything doubled, tripled and quadrupled. Confronted by my family, I was asked to leave my home. That night I wrote my suicide letters to my family. I wanted to die rather than taking another drink. I called a friend thinking to leave a message on her machine. I wanted to tell her where my body could be found so I wouldn't’t lay there alone in death for long or that some poor unsuspecting housekeeper would find me. I thought my friend was at a meeting. Sh was not supposed to answer the phone. She was home and convinced me to go to an AA meeting. There was a turn, a surrender so to speak. For the next 6 months, I was sober and happy. On the outside.
However, my unrecognized bi-polar disorder, was slowly emerging with a vengance after being hidden by alcohol for so long. Long periods of mania occurred. HUGE spending sprees. Deep dark depressions followed. I began to drink again.
The level of drinking was now outstanding. At 5’2, 105 lbs, I was daily drinking 18 to 24 beers a day, usually in 6 or 8 hours, and soon that much and a pint of vodka. In no time it was vodka alone. A pint to 2 pints or more everyday. I silently was proud of myself for the ability to drink a 6 pack in under 4 minutes, although I didn't do this in public, I did this in one of my hidden drinking spots. I drank from the moment I woke up to late into the evening. I began taking no-doze and ephedrine to stay awake so I could drink MORE, and then handfuls of benedryl to bring me down and help me sleep. Of course, stealing any pain medication from family if it was around.
I was now vomiting 10-12 times a day, sometimes containing flecks of blood. There were times I would drink something so fast, my stomach would rebel and almost immediately cause me to throw up. I would "catch" this in my mouth and throat and re-swallow the mouthful of liquor that had just come back up.....so as not to waste a single drop. Stings of days with acidic black diarrhea, bile. So much so I soiled myself several time, even in public. I began wearing pad just for this. I was taking 12 to 14 immodium a day, then would have to take a laxative for constipation then the cycle would start again. I still drank daily, planning for days in advance to protect my supply.
In 2003, out of nowhere I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking all over. Strange, I never had hangovers anymore or shook. In fact hangovers and headaches were a thing of the past. The reason? I never had enough alcohol out of my system to cause the early withdraw symptoms, that is, that morning after feeling is really a form of withdraw. With alcohol in my system all the time, I was never "in withdraw"
My entire body was vibrating and my instinct had me down 6 beers in 20 minutes, a bit slow for me, but I did projectile vomit a few times as it was warm beer I had hidden outside. All was well, that night.
3 days later, alone at home, I again woke up shaking; feeling awful, but there was nothing in the house. I couldn't’t hold my keys to drive anywhere; my eyes were vibrating so much that it seemed as if they were mounted on a jackhammer. I certainly couldn't call for help, or for my family. I feared the loss of everything if I did. I could not let them know I had failed yet again.
Faining the flu, while my daughter was at school and my husband away on business, Withdraw began. My body exploded on and off releasing foul build ups of toxins it could no longer handle. I crawled to the bathroom leaving trails of waste. In moments where the shaking stopped, I lay frozen, staring at the ceiling envisioning my death, in fact hoping for it.
Being "the good nurse" I reached for my computer thinking I could find SOMETHING I could do on my own to make this stop. Then, I remembered the SOS womens group online. I had quasi joined them a few years back. Reaching out to strangers was easier than reaching out at home. Get to SOS. I did. I cried out for help. I read my posts from the first week and I barely remember writing them. I was able to down a ton of benedryl, make it to the store and yes, drink to keep my symptoms at bay, for a very short while.
My slow withdraw soon intensified, so much so that my Reaching Up for Air Experience was possibly a seizure? A brush with death? I am not sure. But to this day, it was very real. Women in SOS pleaded, urged, cared and loved. I listened and called for my brother. What happened next was an emergency room visit, immediate follow up with my personal physician, immediately meeting with my psychiatrist, coming clean with ALL, with everything.
That next day was my first sober day.
I have been sober ever since. I have morphed into a person I never thought I was worthy of being. I have developed a sound, firm base of sobriety utilizing a huge array of tools. I remain closely bonded with the women in my “cyber” group. They are my meetings, my sponsors, my peers and most importantly, my dear friends. My family is healing.
The women who supported me may never know the depth of my gratitude. Beyond the core of my very being, I know that they held my soul in care until I could care for it myself.
This is my story
The pictures will not show up here, so note the beginning of the story is refers to the picutes.
Here is a picture of me that I once thought was cute.
After all, the children on my father’s side of the family, and their children, have a similar photo. . It is me, at 4 months of age, propped up with a Coors long neck. Beer and babies, a family tradition. I did in fact learn that I was a gassy baby and my doctor recommended an ounce of beer to cure it. My first drink was at 4 weeks of age. Apparently I was gassy a lot. Beer continued to be my parents medicine of choice. Not to mention vodka or schnapps on the gums or dipped with the pacifier. I don’t blame my family. They did what they knew. And everyone on my fathers’ side knew and knows addiction and mental illness. The side of the family that I worshipped as my role models, I grew to emulate.
Me at 6 months.
I’ll hit the milestones. My first hangover (that I can recognize as a hangover) Age 7-Hot Toddy's from Dad My next 10-Strawberry Daiquiris.. My first experience of alcohol poisoning, 12. My first black out, 13.
Spending my tween' and teen years in Europe afforded me an acceptance of drinking at an early age. The “if you can reach the bar you can drink” times in Europe. This was during the late 70’s, early 80’s.
What then occurred were experiences in binge drinking, more alcohol poisonings, hash, marijuana, huffing, prescription and over the counter drug use and sexual experiences far beyond the norm. My first child at 15, my second at 18 with sprinkles of bingeing throughout my late teens and twenties. Married for 2 years and divorced. Next alcohol poisoning? Why on my 21st birthday of course.
I went to nursing school during the day, bartended at night. Used speed to function and try to take care of my 2 children. I slept 1-2 hours a day for a year.
During this time, I meet my soul mate who stoood by my side on this wild, out of control ride. He's my hero. Today, we have 5 children in our blended family.
In the early 90’s I worked from 7 pm to 7 am. I began to experience insomnia after work. The cure was a beer or two, and then sleep. I can’t pinpoint it, but it soon became a 6 pack then sleep, then a couple of beers before work, when off beer during the days, social drinking etc.
While my drinking was esculating there was an event that pushed be deeper into alcohol. One evening at work, my coworkers and I experienced a nightmare... the sudden death of a young mother. By sudden, I mean walking, talking, smiling and in less than a minute, gone. It was a amniotic embolism, extrememly rare and almost always fatal.
What followed was the desperate attempts to revive her and save her 3 very, very tiny unborn babies. Her babies survived. It truely was a scene I can only describe as surreal and macabe as everything that could possibly be done to save her was done, and fast. No time to think, just do.
In the days following, there was little talk, no time or resources offered to process this whole ordeal personally or as a group. With the exception of dotting i's and crossing official t's. It certainly impacted my confidence as a nurse, my mood at home and of course my sleep....but, you don't dream when your passed out.
Soon I was drinking more before work. Off days, I began sneak drinking to disguise how much I was drinking. I stole so often from my step father who was living with us, while he didn't’t say anything, he installed a padlock on his fridge. I managed to take the door off on more than one occasion.
I was confronted by my supervisor at work. I felt “fine” even after almost a 12 pack during the day and evening before work. Submitting to a breathalyzer and completely indignate, I blew a 1.8. I was summarily fired, reported to the nursing board and reluctantly entered rehab to keep my license.
I played the part of recovering nurse, all the while, starting the day after I left rehab, sneaking again.
Stealing and drinking in the store bathroom, drinking in the attic, in the boys’ clubhouse, in the car, under stairs, in the closet, bathroom and kids room. In the woods, at the park, on the deck. At work, in the parking lot at my nurses group, during group, during AA meetings…..the list is endless. I continued to drink this way.
Confronted at nurses group, I again entered rehab, determined to keep my license and win this battle. I drank the day after leaving rehab, yet again. Not long after I was reported to the board, I was presented me with a consent order; an agreement to follow a certain mandatory plan for 5 years under probation to keep my license. This involved mandatory AA and weekly nurses group and weekly impaired professional groups. With the exception of AA, these were out of pocket costs.
This time I was not determined, I was angry. Who the hell were they to tell me what to do? I stopped going to nurses group. And I, during a hazy period, stapled my nursing license to my consent order, wrote **** you across it, and sent it in. Done.
Everything I worked for gone. Something I deeply regret. I was a great nurse. But now, I was going to be a great drunk.
For the next 5 years, everything doubled, tripled and quadrupled. Confronted by my family, I was asked to leave my home. That night I wrote my suicide letters to my family. I wanted to die rather than taking another drink. I called a friend thinking to leave a message on her machine. I wanted to tell her where my body could be found so I wouldn't’t lay there alone in death for long or that some poor unsuspecting housekeeper would find me. I thought my friend was at a meeting. Sh was not supposed to answer the phone. She was home and convinced me to go to an AA meeting. There was a turn, a surrender so to speak. For the next 6 months, I was sober and happy. On the outside.
However, my unrecognized bi-polar disorder, was slowly emerging with a vengance after being hidden by alcohol for so long. Long periods of mania occurred. HUGE spending sprees. Deep dark depressions followed. I began to drink again.
The level of drinking was now outstanding. At 5’2, 105 lbs, I was daily drinking 18 to 24 beers a day, usually in 6 or 8 hours, and soon that much and a pint of vodka. In no time it was vodka alone. A pint to 2 pints or more everyday. I silently was proud of myself for the ability to drink a 6 pack in under 4 minutes, although I didn't do this in public, I did this in one of my hidden drinking spots. I drank from the moment I woke up to late into the evening. I began taking no-doze and ephedrine to stay awake so I could drink MORE, and then handfuls of benedryl to bring me down and help me sleep. Of course, stealing any pain medication from family if it was around.
I was now vomiting 10-12 times a day, sometimes containing flecks of blood. There were times I would drink something so fast, my stomach would rebel and almost immediately cause me to throw up. I would "catch" this in my mouth and throat and re-swallow the mouthful of liquor that had just come back up.....so as not to waste a single drop. Stings of days with acidic black diarrhea, bile. So much so I soiled myself several time, even in public. I began wearing pad just for this. I was taking 12 to 14 immodium a day, then would have to take a laxative for constipation then the cycle would start again. I still drank daily, planning for days in advance to protect my supply.
In 2003, out of nowhere I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking all over. Strange, I never had hangovers anymore or shook. In fact hangovers and headaches were a thing of the past. The reason? I never had enough alcohol out of my system to cause the early withdraw symptoms, that is, that morning after feeling is really a form of withdraw. With alcohol in my system all the time, I was never "in withdraw"
My entire body was vibrating and my instinct had me down 6 beers in 20 minutes, a bit slow for me, but I did projectile vomit a few times as it was warm beer I had hidden outside. All was well, that night.
3 days later, alone at home, I again woke up shaking; feeling awful, but there was nothing in the house. I couldn't’t hold my keys to drive anywhere; my eyes were vibrating so much that it seemed as if they were mounted on a jackhammer. I certainly couldn't call for help, or for my family. I feared the loss of everything if I did. I could not let them know I had failed yet again.
Faining the flu, while my daughter was at school and my husband away on business, Withdraw began. My body exploded on and off releasing foul build ups of toxins it could no longer handle. I crawled to the bathroom leaving trails of waste. In moments where the shaking stopped, I lay frozen, staring at the ceiling envisioning my death, in fact hoping for it.
Being "the good nurse" I reached for my computer thinking I could find SOMETHING I could do on my own to make this stop. Then, I remembered the SOS womens group online. I had quasi joined them a few years back. Reaching out to strangers was easier than reaching out at home. Get to SOS. I did. I cried out for help. I read my posts from the first week and I barely remember writing them. I was able to down a ton of benedryl, make it to the store and yes, drink to keep my symptoms at bay, for a very short while.
My slow withdraw soon intensified, so much so that my Reaching Up for Air Experience was possibly a seizure? A brush with death? I am not sure. But to this day, it was very real. Women in SOS pleaded, urged, cared and loved. I listened and called for my brother. What happened next was an emergency room visit, immediate follow up with my personal physician, immediately meeting with my psychiatrist, coming clean with ALL, with everything.
That next day was my first sober day.
I have been sober ever since. I have morphed into a person I never thought I was worthy of being. I have developed a sound, firm base of sobriety utilizing a huge array of tools. I remain closely bonded with the women in my “cyber” group. They are my meetings, my sponsors, my peers and most importantly, my dear friends. My family is healing.
The women who supported me may never know the depth of my gratitude. Beyond the core of my very being, I know that they held my soul in care until I could care for it myself.
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