Alcohol, CPTSD, and Why I Never Stood A Chance

As I write this, I’m a few days shy of celebrating my first six months sober. It wasn’t an easy path I walked to arrive here. I spent many frustrating years believing that if I could just master moderation, or some control, over how much I drank, that life would be easy. Or at least a whole lot more manageable. The thought of completely giving up alcohol was unfathomable, especially to a career bartender. My life was literally saturated in alcohol because of my job. It took me 34 years to come to the conclusion that my problem started way before I ever stepped behind the wood.

I was never a daily drinker with a physical addiction to alcohol. I could abstain for as long as I wanted. There were plenty of sober times in my life. Pregnancy and breastfeeding, various fitness goals came and gone. As long as I knew I could eventually drink the way I wanted, to excess, I could deal. My issue was that once I started, it was like a snowball rolling down a hill. Nothing felt worse than the death of a buzz. If some feels good, more must be better, right? I have never had any interest in one or two. Either I’m drinking as much as I want, or there’s no point. Thanks to a lifetime of binge drinking, the tipping point for me was wildly unpredictable on any given day. The best case scenario would be delayed suffering, where the following day would be filled with trying to reverse the effects of going overboard (again). I had an arsenal of “remedies” that I worked into my morning after routines including, rehydrating with vitamins and electrolytes, makeup hacks so I didn’t look as awful as I felt, and catching up on sleep around taking care of my family and a punishing gym routine. Worse days ended in excessive gambling, drug use, and putting myself and others in dangerous situations without batting an eye. Exhausting doesn’t even begin to describe the way my life had gotten . Not to mention the crippling guilt and shame I felt because of my actions. And for what reason? Who puts themselves through the same kind of hell over and over for years? I finally hit the point where if I couldn’t answer these questions and stop this vicious cycle, I didn’t want to live anymore.

A big breaking point for me was when I realized I couldn’t keep running from the snowball coming down the hill anymore. At least not by myself. All the promises in the world that I’d made to myself and people who cared about me weren’t ones I could keep until I got some help, and that was a terrifying thought. I hated the idea of seeing a professional. I had been dragged to multiple psychiatrists as a teenager by my mother in an effort to control my behavior. I was misdiagnosed, medicated, and even forced into hospitalization against my will. To say I had trust issues with mental health professionals would be a great understatement. I knew I had a less than perfect upbringing, coupled with quite a bit of trauma as an adult, including witnessing the accident that took the life of my former business partner, and escaping an abusive marriage. Without actually ever processing any of that, I found myself in a wonderful relationship with a man who shares my sense of humor and love for animals and nature. We have a beautiful daughter together and I have a life I really love. I just had to figure out how to stop shitting on it before I lost everything.

It wasn’t until I decided to deal with my past, that I could finally find peace in my present. I found a therapist who I developed a great deal of trust with, who helped me get some real answers. No medications, no awful personality or mood disorder diagnosis, no more feeling out of control for the rest of my life.

CPTSD, or Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a learned set of responses, meaning it is environmentally, not genetically caused. Due to my unstable childhood and the unique way I learned to adapt to my ever changing environment, I also learned a lot of self destructive coping mechanisms along the way. Fortunately for me, what can be learned, can also be unlearned. Growing up constantly expecting chaos made me all too comfortable as an adult seeking out chaos. Whether or not I was aware of it, I had trained myself to seek out and thrive in environments where I could self destruct among others and have a lot of fun doing it. The problem started when it was no longer fun for me. I spent a lot of time trying to put bandaids on what was clearly a gunshot wound. I tried going back to school to do something, anything else. I became obsessed with health and fitness, believing I could undo the damage I was obviously doing to my body. I ran marathons, I competed in bikini competitions, I meal prepped and took care of my family. I tried to be perfect in every aspect of my life. All while battling my binge drinking and alcohol misuse.

Then it dawned on me. So much of my life and the things I love were coming second to alcohol. Not my job, but the alcohol I drank while working. I’d never been able to see them as two different things before. One simply had to go. So on July 3rd, 2020, I drank my last drink. I’d read countless memoirs and stories of people that were not only brave enough to conquer their alcohol issues, but to tell their stories in order to help others. I knew I needed to be brave too. For my daughter and family, for myself, and for anyone reading my story to feel like they’re not alone.

I still bartend. There is so much I love about the job. I just had to find a way to continue doing it without killing myself. I’ve made wonderful friends over the years and had more laughs than I could ever count. It’s rewarding and challenging to me to provide an excellent level of service to my customers and friends. There is no reason to give up all of those benefits, just the one toxic part. The feeling of peace that has settled into every part of my life from giving up alcohol is something I’ve never known before. It’s also something I’m never willing to give up. Gone are the anxiety attacks about making the same mistakes. Gone are the feelings of guilt and shame. All of that is replaced by the feeling that I do deserve my beautiful life and the love of my family.