So, I started going to therapy once a week. I continued having difficulty putting the drink down. Something that was comforting to me though was my therapist each week asked me how it was going with the drinking, and she never scolded me or yelled at me when I said “not so good.” I just couldn’t stop drinking. I expected a lecture or getting yelled at like I was use to in my family. Daddy was always good at giving lectures, especially something he felt strong about. Don’t get me wrong lots of times those are learning opportunities, but parents aren’t always right. There human like everyone, and they make mistakes too. My therapist was gentle in her approach and let things flow. She knew I would reach my bottom in my own way.

        I started seeing my therapist in August, and October 20^th was my D-Day. It was a Saturday, and I had been drinking all day. I always got drunk and then called people late at night to talk. There’s no telling how many things I’ve said that shouldn’t have been said. I was like 1-800-dial-a-drunk. I had been telling my therapist how I wasn’t happy in my marriage. I thought the reason I wasn’t happy was not my drinking, but that I just didn’t want to be with my husband. So, that Saturday night I called my sister at midnight. I have no idea what I said. I just remember her saying, “I’m coming to get you.” I told my husband and of course he didn’t understand why. I told him and things got crazy. My sister came and we left. Then we got into a fight because she starts yelling at me for how drunk I was, and I retaliated with I’m no more drunk than you, and then she slapped me. It was awful. We ended up in some small town near her house. She pulled off the road, and I got out of the car and walked a long way up the road. Then I hear her yelling my name. I was on somebody’s porch knocking on their door. Is this insane or what? I got back in the car before the people answered the door, and we left. Down the road, we started to cross some railroad tracks and we got stuck only to realize she had turned right rather than going straight across, and she was riding down the tracks!! I got out and helped push her out and on the road. Cut my foot on some glass. She’s out of the car yelling at me again and I had enough of it so I pushed her as hard as I could down on the ground. Some way, somehow, we ended up home. I was sobbing and she kept saying “it’s ok”. Everything is going to be ok. The next morning I apologized and I realized I had to change my life. My sister called my therapist who I was going to see Monday at my regular appointment.

        Monday my therapist insisted I go into a 30-day inpatient recovery clinic. I refused. I just couldn’t leave for 30 days and leave my home – where I was comfortable. So, we bargained that I would go to inpatient for 6 weeks and leave home to stay with my sister. She felt I needed a break to find myself. Inpatient was from 6pm-9pm Monday-Thursday. I learned all kinds of things about alcohol I never knew. I used what I learned to manipulate the system. I never knew that it took a beer 1 hour to leave your system. I use to drink 4-5 in an hour. Every night when I left class I would stop and buy a couple of beers to drink on the way home. I did this every night as time went on. I always did it at night because it would be out of my system by the next night for sure. I did this because they had surprise alcohol testing where you blew into the straws.

About 5 weeks in and almost ready to graduate I started drinking about 12 noon one day at a bar. I was craving a beer so bad. My system had to have one. Then I thought well…..another won’t hurt. I don’t know how many I had, but I went home and took a nap. I woke up at 5:45. It took a good 45 minutes to get to class. I jumped up in panic mode. When I got there the door was locked. The instructor opened the door slightly, and now I know he was doing that to see if I had alcohol on my breath. He let me in, and after break we had a surprise alcohol breath test. I blew high, and told them it was cough syrup. They didn’t buy it, but they didn’t kick me out since I was so close to finishing the 6 weeks. They didn’t let me graduate, but they said I could stay and complete the program in aftercare. I lied straight thru my teeth to everyone close to me. Lying doesn’t work. It always catches up with you. The most important thing a recovering alcoholic can do is get honest. I had to get honest about my dishonesty. I left with my tail tucked between my legs and continued to sneak drinks even living with my sisters. One sister found my beer and kicked me out on Dec.19^th. I had nowhere to go. I rode around Atlanta in my little Honda with my belongings praying for God to save me.

A good friend that I had worked with at the state job knew of my drinking problem and when I called her she welcomed me with open arms. She didn’t charge me rent or utilities. She told me it was a safe place for me to get sober. I continued to drink until she sat me down and said if she smelled it on me again I would have to leave. The next house for me would have been a half-way house. I just couldn’t go there. I went to therapy the next day.

My therapist thought I had been sober since I first started treatment, and I even told her about the cough syrup ordeal. She believed me. That day we had a good session. I always left her session to go straight to an AA meeting. Yes, I was drinking while still attending AA. When I left her office, I stopped for my beer, and went on to my meeting. By the third sip it tasted awful. I started to get angry, and I started to sob. I no longer wanted a can of beer to control my life. I knew it would be my last beer. I got to the AA meeting, I began to share my hurt, and my pain, and begged people to call me. It’s not supposed to work that way. I was supposed to call them, but I was so desperate that I would try anything. It was funny….. right after I asked them to call me – my phone in my pocket started ringing, and I said “Boy you guys are fast!” Everyone busted our laughing. When the meeting was over a lady came to me and said, “if you are serious about getting sober you need to get a sponsor tonight before you leave this room.” That’s the one thing I had never done before. So, I did just that. I finally picked up my final white chip. I began my life of sobriety that very day – January 15, 2001.