NUMB

“Are there any newcomers in the room?” I look around the room and feel as if every eye in the world is on me. I start sweating profusely and desperately search for an exit in the room. As silence fills the stifling air, I realize It’s now or never. “Hi. I’m Liz and I’m an alcoholic. It’s been six days since my last drink.” Phew. I did it. Now will everyone please stop staring at me? God, I hope I don’t know anyone in here. I sit back, still in numbness and confusion. I cannot believe I just said those words. I am in shock and still don’t know how I got here. Here in this room. Here to this place in my life. That’s not me. I’m not like them. I can’t be. I’m not an alcoholic. But I was. I had become one. I am one. 

I often go back and play the tape in my head over and over again. It’s a record on repeat, the soundtrack filling my head, trying unsuccessfully to fill in the blanks. But there are too many blanks to fill in I’ve come to realize. Hitting rewind, replay, again and again. I try to find the exact moment where this film script switched. Which time? Which drink? I wish so desperately that I could have hit pause. Surely my life wouldn’t be where it is today if only I’d known how this story would play out. 

I was the girl in high school who never drank at parties. I was the always-on-call designated driver for both of my brothers and their friends. Drop-offs and pick-ups, I did them all. With a nod of the head my brother would simply hand me the keys to his car and without a word we knew I was driving everyone home that night. In college I’d sip a beer just to look social. The point was never to get drunk. I was the one always in control, appearing perfect and put together at all times; it was kind of my thing. I looked around with pity at the girls who got sloppy drunk. I always wondered what they were thinking and how they could lose control like that. 

Well, at 38 years old I soon found out just how easy it was to lose control like that. I’d lost control of far more than a night out. I’d lost control of my life. My job. My apartment. Relationship after relationship. All gone, swept away in the flood of alcohol that would soon destroy everything in its path. As swiftly as the gulps of wine went down, so too did my dreams and accomplishments. Goals and ambitions, organization and plans, all went to the wayside making a path for the gush of alcohol that would soon take precedence over anything else. 

They say that addiction creeps on you and I never understood that. Until I did. I was your typical social drinker, maybe a glass of wine or two after work at happy hour on a Thursday night, and then of course maybe a bender on weekends because what else did you do as a young single girl in your twenties in the city? I’d recover quickly and bounce back without skipping a step. But that was my twenties. And things in life were a lot simpler back then. 

Looking back, I know my drinking increased in my thirties. I guess that’s when life started packing its punches. Tragedies, traumas, breakups and bounce back after bounce back made a deep, dark mark in my years from 30-36. Anxiety, depression, an untreated eating disorder, PTSD and blinding migraines became my companions for these dark, murky years of life. Tasks so little as walking down the block seemed like the impossible. Getting on the subway was as scary to me then as jumping off a cliff. Out of breath, heart pounding and sweating I’d nervously jump on and off at stops until I’d reach my final destination before. Conference rooms, group meetings and one-on-one sessions were all entangled with fear and claustrophobia. Deep breaths at this point were something I’d come to treasure and pray for. Moments of sanity all seemed impossible to find. I was suicidal and desperate for help. I knew I needed something to take these feelings away. And I wanted an immediate fix. 

It didn’t take long for me to find that immediate fix. I found it first in a glass. And later at the bottom of a bottle. That glorious, smooth, rich rush of liquid coursed through me and took hold of my senses immediately. It calmed my racing heart, settled my shaking limbs and took away the pressure in my head. This was the magic elixir. It took hold and made me feel normal in a world that usually had me fighting to survive in the most mundane circumstances. This perfect potion provided me with the sanctity and peace I’d been so desperately seeking. It armed me with confidence in situations of uncertainty. Everything seemed possible once I was lubricated and numbed. 

Until I found that I was numbing more than just the anxiety and depression. I was numbing every aspect of my life and everyone around me was more than aware. A drink to calm the nerves had suddenly turned into drinks to fall asleep at night, a drink to get on the subway for work, a drink to take the edge off from the night before. I’d soon become completely dependent on alcohol. It had taken over my life and I didn’t know how to gain the control I’d so desperately sought in the first place. Within months I’d lost my job, left my apartment and was put into treatment. Just as quickly as the addiction had crept in, so had all that I’d worked hard for in my life had crept out. 

While alcohol was once my best friend, my comfort and my security, it is now my mortal enemy. It has robbed me of more than I will ever gain back. It almost took my life more times than I can count. It washed away memories I will never remember again. Days I’ll never recall. Relationships I’ll work the rest of my life to rebuild. Alcohol may have taken the last few years of my life, but as my sponsor told me the other day, I have to remember that these are all things that I can gain back. Because the fact is it didn’t take everything. Because I am still standing. My name is Liz and I am an alcoholic.