Let me share with you the story of my years of struggling with alcohol. It's not a chapter of my life I'm proud of, but it's shaped me into who I am today, and if my experience can help others dealing with alcoholism, then it's worth sharing.
My journey with alcohol started unusually early, around the age of 11, just before I turned 12. My friend at the time, a bit wild, used to sneak longneck bottles of beer from his dad. We'd drink, even wagging school to get tipsy on the mountaintop in our local town, and then feeling invincible. My parents never seemed to catch on; if they did, they never seemed to say anything, or maybe they wanted to sweep it under the carpet as if it never occurred. Yet my nan, she knew, but merely warned me about the challenges I'd face, a prophecy I didn't fully comprehend then.
As time passed, a single longneck turned into more, and by age sixteen, I was drinking with adults. Once legal at eighteen, I became a seasoned drinker, consuming alcohol daily if finances allowed. Drinking became my normal, a way to escape from family and the thoughts of being different to everyone else; the panic attacks would strike if I ever ran out, signalling a feeling of impending doom.
My life revolved around securing the next drink. Starting my day with alcohol, sneaking some during breaks, and hitting the pub after work became routine. Alcohol numbed my mind and body, leaving me indifferent to everything except the constant pursuit of when and where was my next drink coming from.
Panic attacks intensified, and I began mixing alcohol with pills and taking other drugs, always thinking prescription drugs could substitute during my dry periods. I spiralled further into self-destruction, popping pills when alcohol was unavailable. This cycle continued for years and years; my life became a total train wreck, and my family distanced themselves completely from me; I was disowned at that time without my knowledge.
Despite numerous episodes of running out of supplies and the accompanying panic attacks, I persisted in this self-destructive pattern. Then came a pivotal moment – I landed in the hospital. This marked the beginning of a life-altering transformation.
During these years of oblivion, any spiritual connection I had vanished. I had lost my way, and alcohol had triumphed. For over a decade, I battled the urges and cravings, surviving on alcohol, pills, drugs and little else. Family ties were strained, and my health deteriorated almost to the point of non-existence.
Fortunately, a divine intervention in the form of an angelic figure, appearing as a doctor, warned me of imminent death if I didn't quit my destructive habits. Cold turkey became my only option. Withdrawal was brutal, with sweats, panic attacks, and doom I had never experienced so bad before; it was horrendous, but there was always that overwhelming desire for a drink. However, I held on, and gradually, the panic attacks waned a little as I dried out more.
Looking back, the memories are no longer what I fear. I faced my past, recognising imperfections and learning from mistakes. Life is a journey filled with hurdles; it's our ability to overcome them that defines us. Alcohol or drugs, the challenges we face are roadblocks or detours. The key is still realising you've veered off course and finding the strength to redirect your path. Life is what you make it, and changing your ways is always possible. If I can do it, anyone can.
In Love, light and blessings.