I remember the last time I got drunk. We’d had some friends over after work and the usual beers were cracked outside while the kids played in the yard. Dinner was served with more drinks and for dessert I mixed some vodka into pineapple slushees. Everyone agreed in disgust that I’d made the drinks too strong so I drank them all while doing the dishes. I don’t remember putting the kids to bed but awoke at three in the morning with extreme anxiety. What had I said that night while entertaining? I had this horrible habit of being brutally honest, dark humored, and offending my friends when I was drunk. I was often impatient and fatigued when tucking the kids into bed.

The next morning I drove the kids to school and I was still drunk. I went to the gym like I always did but something was different. I couldn’t push myself through the workout so I cried on the porch. I was dizzy, disoriented, nauseated and fed up with the way I was feeling. By all accounts I was “functioning” as a working mother of two, but despair completely flooded me. I decided that I wanted to give myself the gift of sobriety for my 40th birthday, which was one year and two months away.

My husband at the time told me I’d fail. We’d been on the wagon before, usually because one of us had gotten sick with a cold or flu. Those periods of sobriety were always brief, somewhere between three days to a few weeks. He told me, “you won’t be able to do it, you’ll only be disappointed and then I’ll have to deal with your breakdown.” Something inside of me told me that he was wrong. I knew that I needed to stop drinking even if I didn’t have his support. You see we were drinking buddies. We’d played in a rock and roll band together, partied together, brewed beer, and co-parented intoxicated together. Essentially we gave each other permission to be alcoholics. My sobriety was an extreme threat to our marriage and was the catalyst for its dissolution.

Three years before I got sober we’d had a harrowing night. I was drinking and using anxiety medications at the same time. I was grieving the loss of my father and had spiraled into blackness. I was looking for more pills to take when he found me in the bathroom. He was irate and threw me to the ground. I got up and tried to get away and he threw me to the ground again. I cried myself to sleep at his side. He told me I deserved it because I was acting crazy and that he was protecting me.

That night became the thorn in our marriage. It came up whenever we fought and he could never apologize but rather defended himself. I was resentful and untrusting of him. Our emotional worlds drifted and ripped apart.

The first three months of my sobriety I lost 15 pounds, started sleeping through the nights, and had newfound sexual energy. It was also difficult because there was still alcohol sitting next to the milk in the refrigerator. I shared my struggle and asked if we could put beer in a mini fridge, out in our storage room, so that I wasn’t so tempted. He flat out said no and told me, “this is your decision so don’t lay it on me.” I told him that I didn’t expect him to join me on the path of sobriety, but that I needed his support. There was none.

Five and a half months into my sobriety alone I needed more help. My therapist recommended that I attend AA meetings. When I told my husband that I was going to try a meeting, he told me that AA is a cult for losers. I went regardless and one month later, I left my husband.

I’ve been sober from drugs and alcohol for over four years. I made it past my original goal and am 43 years old. I am engaged in a process of healing that includes inviting clarity. I have unearthed many of my addictions. At the root, is a deep sense of unworthiness. All of my addictions have been about medicating and avoiding this ancient pain. I don’t want to be on a chemical roller coaster so I don’t drink or drug anymore. I want to love and take care of myself like no one ever could. Sobriety is the gift I give myself everyday.