Alcohol  nearly  ended  my  life.  It  was  my  best  friend  for  the  longest  time  and  it  ended  up being  my  worst  enemy.    I  had  my  first  drink  when  I  was  nineteen,  my  friends  and  I  shared  a huge   jug   of   bourbon   coke   at   a   pub   and   we   danced   the   night   away   under   the   warming stimulus  of  drinks.  I  had  always  been  awkward,  painfully  shy  and  hypersensitive.    I  never  felt attractive  as  I  was  overweight,  my  hair  was  an  impossible  mess  and  my  face  was  covered  in acne.

Drinking  took  away  my  usual  self  consciousness  and  anxiety.  When  I  drank,  I  felt  like  I  could be  someone  others  want  to  hang  out  with.  I  could  be  funny  and  enjoy  myself  without  being constantly  worrying  if  anyone  likes  me.  Alcohol  temporarily  relieved  me  from  the  loneliness of  being  the  uncomfortable  outsider,  I  became  someone  who  could  fit  in  and  be  accepted. Alcohol  started  to  be  a  good  friend.

Drinking   continued   as   I   grew   into   adulthood.   Growing   up   as   the   youngest   daughter   in   a traditional  family  who  favored  sons  over  daughters,  I  had  always  yearned  for  approval  from my  parents.  I  tried  to  excel  in  all  my  endeavors  especially  my  studies  as  it  was  a  gauge  my dad  used  to  assess  us.  I  feared  to  failing  and  when  I  succeeded,  I  feared  losing  the  success.  I lived  in  perpetual  fear  that  I  couldn’t  live  up  to  expectations,  that  I  was  ‘less’  than  other people.   Nevertheless,   outwardly   I   portrayed   a   confident   and   successful   image   while inwardly,   I   was   insecure   and   utterly   miserable.   I   drowned   my   pain   and   fears   with   drink, using  it  as  a  way  to  shut  out  voices  of  restraint  and  criticism.  Drinking  was  a  speedy  way  to oblivion:    when  I  drank  I  could  escape  from  my  prison  of  loneliness  and  insecurity.

It  soon  got  worse.  My  constant  heightened  anxiety  led  to  chronic  insomnia.  I  was  diagnosed with  general  anxiety  disorder  and  had  to  rely  heavily  on  sleeping  pills  and  anti-­‐depressants.  I drank  and  took  medication  to  function  under  heavy  stress,  desperately  trying  to  maintain  an outwardly   successful   façade   while   I   was   dying   slowly   inside.   By   this   time,   I   took   anti-­‐ depressants  like  candy  and  a  handful  of  sleeping  pills  every  night  mixed  with  alcohol.  This continued  until  I  vomited  blood  one  morning  and  lost  consciousness.  Despite  this  brush  with death,  I  did  not  stop  using  alcohol,  I  couldn’t  stop.

I  started  to  have  panic  attacks  in  the  night,  as  my  overactive  mind  was  filled  with  unceasing voices  of  fear  and  rejection.  I  felt  like  I  was  going  mad,  I  needed  to  drink  so  I  could  sleep  and I  needed  more  and  more  alcohol.  All  this  time  I  was  trying  to  hide  my  drinking  obsession.  I hid  bottles  in  my  wardrobe,  toilet,  couch,  storeroom,  corridors,  flower  pot  and  any  corner  I could  find.  I  was  terrified  that  my  stash  would  be  discovered  and  my  supply  would  run  out.  I began  sneaking  wine  into  the  office  and  would  get  drunk  during  lunch.  I  was  starting  to  lose

control  altogether.  When  I  wasn’t  drinking,  I  was  thinking  about  my  next  drink,  I  was  utterly and  hopelessly  fixated.  I  tried  to  convince  myself  that  I  was  fine,  just  troubled.

I  started  to  miss  work  and  would  stay  at  home  drinking  for  a  week  or  more.  I  would  find  all plausible  excuses  as  to  why  I  missed  work,  but  the  truth  was  coming  to  light.  The  facade  I had  created  was  crumbling.  I  couldn’t  hide  my  drinking  anymore  and  my  lies  were  coming  to light  -­‐  I  was  asked  to  leave.  After  losing  my  job,  I  went  into  deeper  depression  with  shame, guilt  and  failure.  Even  then,  I  didn’t  realize  that  I  had  a  drinking  problem.  I  hated  what  I  had become  and  I  blamed  my  failures  on  everyone  but  myself.  Drinking  became  my  solution  to escape  from  the  reality.  When  I  was  drunk,  nothing  mattered.

Drinking  was  no  longer  a  pleasure  but  a  necessity  that  precedes  everything  else  in  my  life.  I was  covered  in  bruises  which  came  from  falling  down  and  stumbling  in  my  drunken  stupor. My  liver  was  badly  inflamed  due  to  excessive  drinking  and  the  doctor  warned  me  that  my liver  would  be  completely  destroyed  in  a  year  if  I  continued  drinking  but  that  didn’t  stop  me. I  wanted  to  stop  but  I  simply  could  not  stop  based  on  my  own  efforts.  I  relapsed  so  many times  that  I  lost  count,  berating  myself  every  time  I  failed.  Alcohol  has  truly  become  my master.  I  was  a  human  wreck,  hell  bent  on  destruction  and  I  continued  to  drink.  Anything  or anyone  who  stood  in  my  path  has  to  be  eradicated.  Nothing  worked  on  me,  whether  it  was tears,  threats  or  humiliation.

I  had  been  in  all  major  hospitals  in  the  country  for  rehabilitation,  I  had  seen  so  many  doctors but  I  could  only  stay  sober  for  less  than  a  week.  I  had  been  in  the  asylum  and  jailed  because of  my  drinking  but  that  didn’t  stop  me  from  continuing.  I  gradually  gave  up,  drinking  to  die as  I  did  not  have  the  guts  to  commit  suicide  despite  trying.  Finally  my  husband  called  AA  and on  the  same  evening,  trembling  and  dazed,  I  went  to  my  first  meeting.  It  was  the  first  time  I heard  that  alcoholism  is  a  disease;  we  who  are  afflicted  are  men  and  women  who  have  lost control  of  drinking  and  whose  lives  have  become  unmanageable.

I  didn’t  believe  it  initially  but  I  had  no  choice,  other  than  being  doomed  to  a  slow  painful alcoholic   death.   Hence   with   the   desperation   of   a   drowning   woman,   I   started   to   go   to meetings.  I  was  flabbergasted  to  learn  that  these  confident,  joyful  and  good-­‐looking  people were  once  hopeless  and  doomed  alcoholics  who  had  reached  the  end  of  their  rope.  They shared  what  I  could  not  put  into  words,  experiences  of  such  horror  that  only  a  true  alcoholic can  understand.  I  grasp  onto  the  hope  that  I  will  one  day  be  like  them,  as  they  showed  me that  it  is  possible  to  recover  when  all  the  doctors  told  me  I  had  no  hope.

Now,  I  have  found  a  wonderful  sponsor  and  I  am  working  on  my  step  work.    Though  the challenges  in  life  still  exist  and  I  still  face  difficulties,  I  am  no  longer  alone  and  helpless.  With the  loving  support  of  my  new  friends  who  are  there  24/7  for  me,  and  an  increasing  reliance on   my   Higher   Power,   I   am   learning   anew   to   face   life   with   courage   and   serenity.   I   look

forward  to  my  new  beginning  in  life,  there  will  be  good  and  bad  times  but  I  will  be  alive  to face  life  with  joy,  hope  and  strength.    Looking  back  on  what  I  had  become,  only  a  miracle could  save  me  from  the  pits  of  hell  and  a  miracle  has  happened  to  me!

How  a  helpful  neighbour  set  this  alcoholic  on  the  road  to  recovery

My  name  is  Annie,  I’m  an  Alcoholic.

My   first   drink   led   to   my   first   blackout.   Alcohol   took   away   the   shyness,   paralysing   self-­‐ consciousness.  It  gave  me  a  warm  and  happy  new  feeling  that  freed  me  up  to  do  anything.  I danced  at  parties,  yelled  in  the  street,  sang  on  buses,  hitch-­‐hiked  across  London,  talked  to strangers,  no  fear  of  anything.  I  loved  it.  I  thought  it  helped  me  to  be  the  real  me.  I  didn’t want   to   do   anything   that   didn’t   involve   drinking:   cinema   -­‐   boring,   walks   -­‐   you   must   be joking!  I  learned  early  to  have  a  few  drinks  from  my  mum’s  cupboard  before  I  went  out, filling  miniature  bottles  to  take  with  me.  I  thought  everybody  did  it!  I  look  back  at  my  teens and  see  that  I  have  no  idea  what  my  family  were  doing,  no  memory  of  spending  any  time with  them. I  went  to  Spain  for  6  months  –  my  university  days  are  still  a  black  hole  full  of  twinkly  lights  – and  was  hospitalised  with  alcohol  poisoning.  Came  back  and  got  married  to  a  heavy  drinker, workaholic,  who  took  care  of  the  boring  stuff  –  bills,  housework  etc.  I  was  a  charming  wife  – he  never  knew  what  he  was  coming  home  to.  We  had  two  beautiful  children  and  drinking  to party  was  no  longer  an  option  –  my  secret  drinking  started.  Hiding  bottles,  trying  to  hide  the fact  that  I’d  had  a  drink,  sneaking  extra  drinks  whenever  we  had  company,  stealing  money for  drink,  making  any  excuse  to  buy  a  bottle.  And  it  got  worse.  I  started  to  feel  ashamed  –  a quick  burn  that  another  drink  would  fix.  My  daughter’s  diary  at  school  on  open  day  –  every weekend   we   went   to   this   pub   or   that   pub…the   rows   that   would   flare   up   and   the   way   I turned  from  happy  smiley  to  hell-­‐cat  with  a  couple  of  drinks. I  managed  to  divorce  my  husband  for  HIS  unreasonable  behaviour  and  found  somebody  else who  drank  like  me.  I  was  in  big  trouble  now.  Desperately  unhappy,  life  in  chaos,  coming  to on  the  kitchen  floor  in  the  morning,  trying  to  get  kids  to  school,  house  being  repossessed.  I saw  counsellors,  psychologists  -­‐  blaming  my  childhood,  my  mother,  my  husband  –  anybody and  everything.  I  was  in  trouble.  But  if  only  I  could  sort  out  the  money  (I  borrowed  and begged  from  anybody  who  stood  still  long  enough).  If  I  could  only  find  the  right  man.  If  only I  had  a  different  upbringing.  If  only  I  got  the  right  job.  I’d  be  OK  then.  I  kept  trying  to  manage all  this  -­‐  with  the  same  outcome  –  drunk  and  in  a  worse  mess.  I  wore  an  old  wax  jacket  – bottle  up  each  sleeve  and  a  half  in  the  inside  pocket,  hadn’t  cut  my  hair  for  years.  One  day  a

group  of  kids  sitting  on  the  wall  at  the  end  of  my  street  shouted  ‘ALKIE’  at  me.  I  was  furious, burning  with  shame  –  if  only  they  knew  what  sort  of  life  I  had! I  had  one  ‘friend’  left.  A  neighbour  who  brought  food  for  the  kids,  gave  me  money.  She  told me  one  Sunday  morning  that  I  had  to  do  something  or  she’d  have  to  walk  away.  She  just couldn’t  watch  it  any  more.  I  don’t  know  what  it  was  that  pushed  me  to  make  the  phone  call to  AA.  Thank  God  for  those  AA  members  in  service,  people  at  the  end  of  the  phone  24/7  to handle  calls  from  people  like  me,  with  nowhere  left  to  go,  no  more  excuses. Within  a  couple  of  hours,  two  members  of  Alcoholics  Anonymous  were  in  my  living  room, curtains  drawn,  vodka  tears  and  snot  running.  They  were  not  interested  in  my  problems. They  told  me  about  the  way  they  drank  and  I  knew  they  were  like  me.  I’d  never  admitted  it to  anybody.  They  told  me  about  alcoholism,  the  physical  allergy  which  meant  that  once  I had  one  drink  I  was  unable  to  stop.  The  mental  obsession  which  meant  that  I  couldn’t  leave it   alone,   no   matter   how   bad   it   got.   The   spiritual   malady   which   led   to   the   terrible   dark loneliness  and  terror.  These  people  told  me  that  they  had  found  a  way  to  stop  drinking  in  AA and  that  their  lives  had  changed  for  the  better  and  they  were  happy.  I  don’t  know  why  but  I believed  them.  I  did  as  they  suggested.  I  went  to  a  meeting  near  me,  started  going  to  others, started   working   the   Steps.   After   a   short   time,   the   desire   to   drink   left   me   and   has   not returned.  My  life  has  changed  in  ways  that  are  beyond  belief.  I  have  faith  in  the  future  and I’m   no   longer   ashamed   of   my   past.   I’m   so   grateful   for   the   chance   to   live   free   from   the obsession  with  alcohol. -­‐  Annie

(Reprinted  with  permission  from  the  General  Service  Board  of  Great  Britain  Ltd.)