Gypsy Feet

The summer before high school we moved to a much different town. The first kids to accept me were the "loadies", so I started partying to fit in. When I was 16 and my parents were in the middle of a bitter divorce, the boy I loved died, aspirating on his own vomit while doing nitrous oxide at home alone. Looking back on it, I believe from that day on, I drank to keep the pain at bay. I never realized it was preventing the healing as well.

I drank and drugged for 28 years, pausing only for pregnancy and child birth. Even while the grief was a constant, I am joyful person by nature and most of the time I believed my life was close to perfect.

I went to all of my kids soccer games, swim meets and choir performances. I volunteered in classes and sporting events. I helped with homework, and tutored the neighbor kids. I thought I was the perfect parent.

I married my best friend. He and I liked the same books, video games, outdoor activities and mind altering substances. We spent a year on meth, shroomed on occasion, got stoned quite a lot, and drank nightly. I cooked 3 squares a day, kept the house running, made sure we never ran out of booze and covered for him when he was too hung over to function. I thought I was the perfect wife.

Over the years we hosted lots of parties, some years it was an every- weekend occurrence. I made sure no one left drunk, gave everyone pillows and blankets and watched over my guests. I always made sure I was a notch less drunk than the rest of the gang, to keep order and tell the stories the next day. I looked down at my friends and family who would get arrested, throw-up or pee on themselves or black-out and do or say stupid things. I thought to myself, if you can't handle your booze, you shouldn't drink.

At 24 I lost the cousin I grew up with, he was my age. At 33 I lost the closest thing I had to a son. I believe now that every emotional injury I ever suffered stayed an open wound, and that my nightly intake of alcohol just kept the pain to a dull roar.

When the kids all left home, I noticed my husband had a serious drinking problem. I had no idea how to deal with it, or what the solution was, so I left. As a raging codependent, with the kids gone and my marriage over, I was at a loss. I had no direction what so ever.

The end of 2007, my family asked me to move in with my grand dad. He had advanced Alzheimer's and they wanted him to be able to live out his days in his own home. With gramps to focus on, I was actually able to cut back my drinking and start a new healthy living regiment, which included losing a ton of weight and going to the gym daily. I still not dare look inward, I was a hot mess and I knew it. But as long as I had gramps to worry about, I was fine.

Gramps died in Sept. 08, I was with him til his last breath. While I was proud of myself for being able to keep him home, his death was the proverbial straw. My grief was overwhelming. I moved into my (ex)-husband's garage in a state of abject fear. I tried to drown all of it with booze, but there just didn't seem to be enough alcohol in the world to quiet my pain this time. The drink had quit working for me.

The next four months were a series of every worsening black-outs. I was passing out nightly in my hot tub, I woke up with a broken finger without knowing how I did it, I was hung over every morning. Every morning I would tell myself that I would abstain from drinking that evening, but 5 o'clock would find me heading out to the hot tub with 2 beers and a huge rum and coke.

December 27 2008 I had a post-holiday party, with most of my friends and lots of my family in attendance. I got black-out drunk, engaged in deplorable acts and my daughter was the one to tell me the story the next day.

I had become one of "those" drunks. The kind I detested, the kind that couldn't handle their alcohol. I knew only 2 emotions that day, shame and despair. Shame for what I had done, and despair because I could think of no way to make it ok again.

I quit drinking to punish myself, and I quit drinking to punish alcohol. I had believed alcohol to be my trusted friend for so long, and it had betrayed me. I had done things while drunk I would have never done sober, I felt violated, as if I had been possessed.

If you would have told me the day I quit, that getting sober would lead me to a life more wonderful than my wildest dreams, I would have kept drinking. I did not want to be happy, I deserved to be miserable. I quit because sobriety sounded like the most miserable thing on the planet.


I came to SR to make sure I would stay stopped, as the punishment demanded. I came here with the tag "uglyeyes". I could not look in a mirror without crying for weeks. It was reading here on SR that I discovered I was a codependent and an alcoholic, and that there was hope. Several months into my recovery journey, I was having trouble. Someone on SR suggested that I find a higher power, and ask for that higher power for help. My life will never be the same (thanks grateful2b <3)

Today when I look back, it feels like I had drawn shades over the windows in my soul. From the age of 16, I had lived in terror that the people I loved would be taken from me. I had lived in an altered state, with no spiritual component to my life. When I felt that first ray of Light, it changed me profoundly. I found in an instant something I had been dearly missing.

In recovery, I am constantly finding hidden or forgotten dark areas, and I do my best to throw back the shades and illuminate them.

My health and well being involves not only the physical and emotional parts of me, but spiritual as well. With my new found connection to my HP, I am able to work through my grief and heal.

I am also thankful for the recovery community as a whole, the fellowship of AA, and all of the wonderful people here in SR, especially my class of December and my fellow codies.

I love the expression "The Sunlight of the Spirit", I truly feel like I walk in it now. I liken it to having discovered a color in the rainbow I had never seen before, and it is beautiful.