I’ve been forced to come to terms with where I was this time last year. I am ashamed of where I was, but am proud of how far I’ve come. This time last year, I was hungover and confined to the couch or bathroom to throw up. In the course of a few days, I had two nights where I drank too much to the point of being sick.
I was hurting. Hurting. Hurting.
Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
I felt like I was just filtering through different versions of myself of what was expected of me. I was reaching the point of wondering just how much pain a human being could endure, but not wanting to find out.
I was worried this would be the life I would always live to cope with pain. It scared me how easy it was to behave this way, but still be a high functioning adult who worked two jobs and was a full time graduate student.
After this, I started to get nauseous from just the smell of red wine. It really helped curb my desire to drink often. I began to recognize what my body could handle. I haven’t thrown up from drinking in a long time. I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time. I am typically content with a drink or two. I feel safer.
Even though I have experienced hard times. Drinking is not my recourse anymore. Even though sometimes I desire the detachment of a buzz; it’s not a necessity.
Thinking back on this, I am shocked at the path this could have lead me.
This is my honest admittance to something I don’t think anyone knew about me last year.
This is my promise to be better.