Author: Alice T
Art: Unsplash
DISCLAIMER: Withdrawals from alcohol can kill you. Please seek medical intervention if necessary.
I woke up on Thursday, October 31st, 2024, the same way I had woken up most days the last decade: hungover.
The difference was that this hangover was the one to finally push me over the edge. I was sick of calling out of work. Sick of wasting another day because I felt gross from the night before, or started too early, and now the afternoon is wrecked. Sick of my red, puffy eyes, dry skin, and upset stomach. I was sick of being me.
I didn’t know what to do. I thought rehab was the fix, so I called a facility and spoke to a very kind woman who helped me begin the process of admittance. You know things are bad because you’re talking to the Betty Ford Center, but you don’t realize how bad until you have to tell this lady on the phone about your Miller Lite for breakfast diet.
Ultimately, I never ended up going. I had been white-knuckling sobriety for 49 days before I went to my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. AA was a truly transformative experience, and I am so thankful that a friend encouraged me to attend.
I would describe myself as your average 31-year-old woman. The people around me know me as happy and fun to be around. They know me as someone who is dedicated to my community and spends a lot of time finding ways to help others. They know me as a go-getter in my career, for which I just moved to a new city. They know me as someone who loves to stay active and tries out a lot of new hobbies because of it.
What they don’t know is that I was drunk almost every day for years. I’d wake up thinking about when I could get my hands on that next drink. I’d often tell myself that this would be the day that I could just have one and call it a night, but I knew I was lying. I’d have that one and wouldn’t stop until the rest of them were gone, too.
I would reason with myself that I still had a job, so I couldn’t be an actual alcoholic. My hangover today isn’t really THAT bad, so I don’t have a problem. After all, I can quit anytime I want, thank you very much.
I’ve done a lot of things to try and curb my drinking over the years.
At times, I’d made various rules for myself: no drinking during the weekdays; only drink every other day; no drinking before 4:00 PM; no drinking at breakfast; only drink in social situations; just one bottle of wine a night. At one point, I found a website that sold pills claiming to curb the cravings, so naturally, I gave that a whirl, but nothing helped.
Friends have told me they were surprised to learn that if I was texting after about 10:00 PM, that usually meant I was drunk and that I could always be counted on to have a solid buzz going by the time I arrived at the function. I’m not one to brag, but I did hide my drinking exceptionally well.
Summer of 2023, I went through a big Metallica phase. I was listening to their music non-stop and realized that their song Master of Puppets, a song famously about addiction, really resonated with me. Those particular lyrics hitting home were concerning, and the first time I’d really wondered if I did have a problem.
Around this time, I’d heard someone say that they knew they had a problem with alcohol when they couldn’t stop thinking about it. Uh-oh.
When I finally quit for good, the night sweats, sleeplessness, and pimples let me know pretty quickly that I had made the right call. I’m almost certain that people who can drink in moderation don’t get withdrawal zits.
In the early aughts of my sobriety, I had pretty loose lips about it. I told a lot of people that I was getting sober. I was so scared, and since it was always top-of-mind, I ended up talking about it a lot more frequently than I’d intended. For a while, I felt embarrassed by that. ALL of these people know my biggest secret, and for what?
After some time, I realized that telling all those people is exactly what’s kept me sober for this long. This opened the door for people to check on me and truly support me since I’d confided in them. I’ve been blessed with a beautiful support system full of people who’ve shown me the kindness that I, for so long, wasn’t able to extend to myself. They’ve let me heal however I needed to and respected me when I set boundaries.
One time, a friend and I were having a spa night (we live 2,000 miles away from each other, so self-care at the same time counts as a spa night). I told her up front that if she was drinking, I didn’t want to know about it. I wasn’t ready for that yet. She later told me she thought that was very self-aware and brave. Looking back, I agree with her. I’m so glad I felt comfortable setting that boundary, something I’ve done many times in the last year, in order to protect the thing I hold most dear: my sobriety.
Breaking up with alcohol is such a weird experience. You know that it’s killing you and making your life worse, but it’s still this terrible heartbreak, and you’re absolutely devastated to be letting it go. The thing you’ve revolved your whole world around is just…gone. But it isn’t really gone, is it? It’s on every billboard, every commercial, there it is: taunting you at each turn.
Summer of 2023, I contacted a rehab in my city. The man I spoke with on the phone was aggressive about what the next steps looked like for me and was adamant that I would never be able to get sober alone. He completely scared me away from reaching out for help for about another year. I mention this to say: please, don’t let anyone or anything discourage you from seeking help if you need it. You deserve to feel better.
No one can tell you how you feel about your relationship with alcohol, nor can you tell anyone how they feel about theirs. If someone mentions they might have a problem, please believe them. It took a lot of courage for them to tell you, and they’re probably scared of what’s to come. If they’re anything like me, they just need you to listen.
As for my current recovery tools, I lean heavily on my faith. I was an active participant in Alcoholics Anonymous for about 8 months and then decided it wasn’t for me right now. AA works nothing short of miracles for so many people, and to discount that would be doing a huge disservice to sober folks everywhere. Even though I’m unsure if it’s the right fit for me, I urge you to give it a shot. I credit my newfound sense of peace to the work my sponsor and I did in AA.
A year and some change removed from my decision to get sober, and I only drink things that won’t screw up my liver and only take my pills as prescribed. I have a sense of peace that I’ve never known. I respond, rather than react. I’m able to look back on younger me with kinder eyes and forgive myself for mistakes and regrets.
Even though I knew deep down for a long time that the wheels were coming off, I simply wasn’t ready to let it go until October 31st, 2024. When we think of addicts, we often picture people who’ve really hit rock bottom and, as such, have a hard time identifying with them if we aren’t there yet. I’ve wondered if I would have been ready sooner if I had a sober role model who was also passing as a “functioning” member of society.
My hope with writing this blog is that I’ll help even one person feel a little bit less alone or spend a little bit less time wondering if it’s time to get help.
About the Author:
Alice is a recovering alcoholic who loves biking, reading, and yelling at the TV over her Green Bay Packers. She’s happiest when coaching her Special Olympics team, and she celebrated one year sober on October 31, 2025. Alice has one cat, Bug, who recently won a Halloween costume contest for her incredibly cute cowgirl costume!