I had never been arrested or ticketed for driving while I was intoxicated.  I had never lost my kids, my job, or my home.  I had never even been kicked out of a bar. 

There was no catastrophic incident, but I hit rock bottom. 

Drinking, I thought, made life more bearable. I self medicated with alcohol and at some point, drinking went from being fun, to being necessary.  I considered when I would be able to drink before everything else.  I hid alcohol and snuck drinks.  I lied.  I bargained.  I manipulated.  Most days, I was drinking, drunk or hung over. 

It was never enough.  The concept of having “a couple drinks” bewildered me.  That was something I could not do.  I was also stuck.  I would tell myself that I wasn’t going to drink that day, but sure enough, I would.  I would drink to cope, but would be creating more to “cope with” as long as I drank.  There is nothing worse than waking up with regrets and piecing together what happened the night before. 

I hung out with denial for quite awhile.  I abused alcohol for years before I admitted that I needed help.  Admitting that I needed help, not only meant that I had a problem, it meant that I wasn’t going to be able to go to bars and drink with friends or at events.  That part of my life would no longer be able to exist.

The night before I started on my road to recovery, I planned my suicide.  I had rationalized it as being best for everyone.  I had planned how and where I would do it. This is what it had come to.  I was completely hopeless. 

When  I woke up from the black out, in a haze, with the realizations and the seriousness of the night before coming back to me, I knew I had to surrender…I had to do what ever I had to do to save myself, to save my life.  I was really scared, but I did what I had to do.

I have been sober now for three years.  I have a new outlook on life.  I have hope.  I am grateful.