And Just Like That…Surrender

By: Kerin D., Transformations Alumna

I don’t know when it stopped being fun. Because it was. For years it was really fun. Laughing with my friends, doing silly things I never would have done without liquid and chemical courage. Being places I wasn’t supposed to be with people I wasn’t supposed to be with, doing things I wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was a rush. And it was really, really fun. I wore it like a badge of honor.  My singular personality trait.  I did not see one thing wrong. There were always people around, places to go, more places to go after that. I could party with the best of them, laugh louder than all of them, and knew everyone at the bar. It wasn’t a problem. I’m still young. All my friends are doing the same things. I’m just having fun.

Until I wasn’t anymore. I don’t know when that switch happened. I don’t know when my nights of loud laughter surrounded by people turned into mornings locked in my room alone. The people around me would go home at a certain time but I never wanted to go home. Home meant one thing- me hiding under the covers finishing whatever I had left and trying to figure out how I could get more. Alone. When did that happen? When did I become incapable of stopping and staying stopped? When did one night out consistently turn into three days? Where did all the familiar faces go? Why am I still here?

I told myself this was a phase. That I would grow out of it. This was still my idea of a good time. But it got harder, more expensive, more difficult to find places to go, fewer people who wanted me around. Now I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without it. A constant itch that had to be scratched. I watched my friends lose interest. Fewer nights out, more growing up and moving on. New jobs, new apartments, new boyfriends turned fiancés. And me, still locked in my childhood room, still awake when the sun came up. I resented them more than I resented those damn 530 AM birds. Chirp chirp chirping away at my buzz. If I just got this job I would be okay. If I just moved out of my parents’ house I would be okay. If I just met the right guy, I would be okay. Never once did it occur to me that not drinking or using was an option.  And so I carried on this way for years, burying myself deeper in the lies that drugs and alcohol allowed me to tell myself.

After one particularly bad weekend, I managed to stick my toe in the pond of AA. I made it two weeks and had zero intentions of ever stopping drinking. I just needed to dry out. I had a new medication; I wanted to see how it worked without drinking. More lies. The fact of the matter is- I wasn’t ready to give up my best friend. Drinking and drugging were who I was and I couldn’t let go just yet. So I clung to those ideals for dear life and back out I went. Clearing out back accounts, leaving work early after showing up late, creating scheme after scheme until finally, the very thin veil of normalcy I thought I was maintaining completely disintegrated. Now everyone (but me) knew I needed help.

Somewhere along the way, my two older brothers had managed to get sober. When did that happen? Why were they doing this to me? My brothers got together. One sat me down, the other pulling the insurance strings behind the scenes. I did not believe in higher powers before I got sober and became active in AA. Not in an angry rejection sort of way but a more self-centered alcoholic- what does this have to do with me? kind of way. Today, I look back on this moment and am convinced of a power greater than me.  I am so grateful my higher power chose my brothers to be the vessels it spoke to me through. Had it been anyone else, I feel confident I wouldn’t have listened. Wouldn’t have surrendered. They told me I didn’t have to feel like this anymore. That there was another way. A design for living made just for me- and I believed them.

And just like that- surrender. I think about this moment often. I believe this is the first time I felt peace in my life. All my lies exposed, all the schemes done. It was over. I could stop running. Stop lying. Stop trying. Stop dying. This moment was immediately followed by regret. What have I just done? How could I have given up so easily? Who will I be now? How will I ever have fun again?  Nevertheless, I went. I arrived at Transformations Treatment Center on October 29th, 2018, and have not had a drink or a drug since.

I completed 28 days at TCC and (as was recommended to me for 28 days) went straight to AA. My first few meetings outside of Transformations were uncomfortable. I didn’t want to talk to these people and I didn’t want to be there. But I also didn’t want to drink and didn’t know how to do that without them.  So I kept going. I got a sponsor. I started going through the steps. And lo and behold – I had made it a whole year without drinking and now I knew everything there was to know about A.A. and alcoholism. My ego had grown so large I could barely make it down to the church basement. I began going to meetings to be seen and not to see. Taking commitments to be heard and not to hear. At this point, I was still the greatest power I knew. I had never cultivated and developed a relationship with a power greater than myself. And I began to suffer for that.  All those familiar feelings. The sadness, the misery, the anxiety, the un-scratchable itch. I didn’t understand. I hadn’t had a drink or a drug in 15 months- why was I feeling this way?

My first year of sobriety, the “newness” of it all was enough to carry me through. I got by on excitement and esteemable acts.  But when that sparkly, shiny, newness disappeared – I was still left with me. Me and my messed-up thinking. Me and my self-obsessive thoughts. I didn’t know how to turn those over. I didn’t know how to stop running the show. That’s when I started actually working (and not just saying I was working) on a relationship with my higher power. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even know if I wanted to do what I was doing. I was so uncomfortable when I started praying that I would forget to breathe. I would dread it. I would question – what does this have to do with me? But slowly, very slowly I began to develop my own relationship with a higher power of my own understanding. And for me, that is one of the best gifts Transformations and Alcoholics Anonymous could have ever given me- the unbelievable freedom that comes with relying on something other than myself.

Just three years later, I have been able to move into my own apartment, buy my own car, and travel abroad. I recently enrolled in a master’s program to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming a teacher. And those things are great.  But the real gifts I have received are being able to look my father in the eye, laughing in the car with my mom, being a sister to my brothers and sister in-laws, having earned back trust to be a part of my three nephews’ lives, and being given the opportunity to be a friend to those who loved and supported me every step (and misstep) of the way.

It didn’t happen overnight. It took work and discipline. I was never promised it would be easy, just that it would be worth it. And if you’re doing it right- a whole lot of fun.

If you or a loved one are struggling, please, reach out today!