I could start this story by telling you of some horrific event in my childhood that led me to become an alcoholic. But I think the most horrific thing that happened in my childhood was the time my mom forgot she put me in time-out so I sat there for over an hour, not making a sound which led my mother to forget she had put me in time-out in the first place.
So we’ll begin with the end, the point where alcoholism had taken over.
When I went to college, I unintentionally went to a party school. I had family that lived in the area, it was near a beach, and small enough that I wouldn’t get lost in the mass of a huge school. Turns out, it was also a huge party school. To be completely honest with you, I wasn’t a big party girl in high school so the thought of a party school never even crossed my mind when I was looking at colleges. Believe it or not, I’d actually had my major and what schools had a good program for it picked out when I was a freshman in high school. Within the first couple of weeks of school, my friends and I would pre-game and get wasted, then go to an 18+ club to dance off the cheap, shitty beer we’d drank, go back to the dorms, and wake up the next day laughing and giggling about all the dumb things we’d done the night before. About two months into college, I was alone in my dorm room slamming my way through a bottle of Captain Morgan, feeling distraught, alone, and just flat out depressed. And I’m pretty sure that’s where the alcoholic in me took over.
After that, I was always the drunkest girl at the party. The girl stumbling over herself but still chug-a-lugging away at a beer, laughing and carrying on. The girl that would always come back to the dorm with a story about who’s bed she woken up in that morning and how she’d broken her nose the night before. The girl that would offer to make a beer run when people were over, right after cracking one open, in hopes that at least one person might want to get aimlessly drunk that night for no reason. I was THAT girl. But at the time, that was pretty much every girl I knew. We were freshmen in college, wasn’t that what it was about?
The summer between my freshman and sophomore years is the first time alcohol got me in serious trouble. All I remember is a “friend” telling me to take her to Waffle House from the party we were at and then the sound of metal smashing into my car. It was a blur. Somewhere between her feeding me shot after shot of Takka and finding my keys laying on the counter, I thought it was ok to drive. Next thing I know, I’m being force-fed water, sobbing into one of my sorority sisters shoulders, screaming I knew I shouldn’t have driven and I don’t know why I did. And that’s the first time I went to jail.
After that, I got sober. For four straight months, I was completely sober.
Then that was the end of that. I decided one day that it was ok for me to have one beer, and the next night I was back to doing what I’d done four months before. I went back to being a drunken hurricane of a human being. I was going back to my apartment drunk as fuck on a Tuesday night, yelling at my roommate to stop eating M&M’s so she didn’t get fat and taking out literally every piece of furniture on my way to my room. I was back to sitting at the bar my friend worked at, getting over-served while being underage, drinking until my little eyeballs were staring off in opposite directions, consuming cocktail after cocktail of some cheap vodka and the anti-depressants I wasn’t supposed to be drinking on. I was back to being the drunkest girl, well, everywhere. And then, it never stopped.
Fast forward to 30 days ago, and here we are. Trying to clean up a mess that had almost 10 years to build up and explode out of control. And don’t worry, you’re not missing much between college and now, except another mugshot, a failed relationship, a dumpster full of lies I told everyone around me, and a few too many beers.
You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Ok Lauren, you’re 30 days sober. Why in the hell are you bringing up something that happened 7 years ago?” Well, because for me to properly recover, I need to let go. And to me, that requires coming face-to-face with the problem and where it started in the first place. Again, I’m not a blogger, I’m a writer who’s recovering from alcoholism. I’m also not planning out anything I post, so it’s just whatever I’m dealing with that day. And thankfully, I’ll be dealing with it sober.