Recovery Started with The Gift of Desperation: In my late 30s, I was in the middle of switching careers, raising four children, and battling a never-ending pile of laundry and chores. My evening glass of wine was a well-earned treat. I had seen alcoholism or what is now more gently called Alcohol Use Disorder, and I didn’t have a problem. Not yet.
I had been raised in the turbulent world of alcoholism, and all the chaos and uncertainty that comes with it. By the time I was eleven years old my parents had divorced, we had moved seven times, and I had lived in three different states. I did not know stability. I was the child of two alcoholics. I thought I knew what alcoholism was and I certainly didn’t have a problem. Even after one glass of wine to settle my day turned into two glasses a night to settle my nerves, I didn’t have a problem.
I Didn’t Need More Than a Glass or Two, Until I Did
After a work day, following dinner and dishes, homework and baths, a calming glass of wine was earned. I didn’t need more than a glass or two until I did. The transition from a few to too many was subtle. A Friday or Saturday night of more than a few grew into weeknights ending with a bottle of wine before bed.
By the time my two oldest had graduated high school, I had become a daily drinker but certain I still had control. I thought to myself that everyone drinks a few glasses of wine to relax and wind down. I refused to see that drinking a bottle or more a day was not a few glasses to wind down. I refused to accept that the disease that had consumed my parents was slowly consuming me.
In Less Than Three Years, I Was an Active Alcoholic
I didn’t believe I could be alcoholic because my life wasn’t in shambles — at least it didn’t appear to be tattered and torn from the outside. My marriage was holding together, albeit by a string, my children had a comfortable middle-class home, my career was thriving, but I was drowning. I tried giving up wine during the week, but that idea ended with a series of excuses that brought me back to the bottle time and time again.
The string that was holding my marriage together broke and the subsequent divorce fueled the fire of my drinking. The beautiful home was packed up and my two remaining school aged children and I moved to a new house, a smaller, darker, less appealing house. It was in that house the train of alcoholism hit the fast track and I found myself gripped by the disease of the drink.
After what was a normal night of drinking for me, which meant more than a bottle of wine and splitting headache in the morning, I had a moment of clarity as I gazed in the mirror at a woman I did not recognize. It was at that moment the gift of desperation hit me and I knew I needed to make a change.
Walking Into an A.A. Meeting Was Hard
Years before the day I attended my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous as a participant, I had been an observer. My mother had found recovery and sobriety in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, and I knew if I wanted to get sober, A.A. was a place to begin.
I sat in my car in the parking lot of an inconspicuous building in the industrial part of town. I watched men and women walk in the door and I was paralyzed with fear. What would those strangers think of me? I was terrified and embarrassed but just desperate enough to go inside just as the clock hit 7pm.
Walking into an A.A. meeting was hard, but facing that difficulty saved my life. I quietly found a seat near the door against the wall in case I decided to make an escape. The room was full of chatter and noise until a person at the front of the room began the meeting. If I had never experienced an A.A. meeting before I might have thought I had wandered into a cult meeting of some sort. There was prayer and readings and individual introductions. Much like what is portrayed in the movies. Individual after individual said their name and proclaimed that they were alcoholic.
The walls of the room held posters listing steps and traditions and slogans. A coffee pot steamed, and people seemed at ease, everyone except me anyway. Eventually the introductions came to me and with a weak and tearful voice I said my name and that I was an alcoholic. I don’t remember much about that first meeting. I cried through most of it. Perhaps they were tears of fear or of failure or maybe I felt like I was in the right place for the first time in a long time?
Stuck in the cycle of busy hoping that one day there will be time for your and what you want?
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Desperation Found Acceptance
The meeting concluded with the group joining hands and reciting The Lord’s Prayer. I was ready to make a quick escape but before I could reach the door a woman stopped me. She was not overwhelming. She smiled and welcomed me, she said she was glad to see me and handed me a list of meetings in the area and a list of phone numbers. She explained that the women in the meeting had all written down their number and encouraged me to call any one of them if I needed support. I smiled but couldn’t really speak because I felt the lump rising in my throat again. I managed to say thank you and headed to my car with a quickened pace.
My desperation had found acceptance. I sat in my car. My hands were shaking, and tears were running down my face. I wasn’t sure sobriety was what I wanted; I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I did make a promise to myself that I wouldn’t drink until tomorrow. That was nearly five years ago and as of today, tomorrow has never come.
If you are curious about A.A. it is easy to find a meeting in your area. Most groups have an online presence and a simple google search should give you a list of meetings near you. There are different types of meetings. There are closed meetings and open meetings. Open meetings are open to anyone who wants to learn more about the program.
LAURA LEE WRIGHT
Laura is an advocate for women in recovery from addiction. She holds a bachelor’s degree in journalism
and worked as a news director and radio talk show host for 15 years. She has interviewed well known
politicians such as former Presidents Bill Clinton and George W. Bush. She left the world of political
journalism after her 4th child was born in the early 2000’s.
Laura has been in recovery from alcoholism for over 4 years and is on the mission to remove the stigma
of addiction recovery and help other women find their authentic selves in sobriety.
Laura and her partner, Jeff live in Harrisonburg Virginia which is in the middle of the beautiful
Shenandoah Valley. She is the mother to four grown children. Her daughter, Mary and her husband live
in Lynchburg Virginia with their three dogs. Her three boys live in Harrisonburg Virginia. Keenan is 24
and works in hotel management, Zeb is 21 and is a paramedic with a local rescue squad and the
youngest, Nathaniel is 20 and working his bachelor’s degree in cyber security and living the college life.
Laura is also mother to Mookie the Morkie, a 2-year-old Yorkie and Maltese mix. Mookie is quite
possibly the world’s most spoiled dog and takes his job as a companion animal very seriously.
Laura currently works in the children’s publishing industry working in rights and permissions and
licensing for a children’s educational publisher. She is also writing a novel in her spare time.
