My Last Day

By jennahutt 05/16/18

The last day I drank was the day I admitted to my mom I had a problem with alcohol. I had no intentions of that being my last day of drinking. My husband was encouraging me to tell everyone I was close to that I needed to quit drinking, and the person I was most afraid to tell was my mom. I made sure to consume several cocktails to numb my pain and silence my fear before I made each confession, and it was no different as I went off to tell my mom. Honestly, I was opening up to others without any desire to quit drinking.

We were meeting for lunch and a movie, and I had drank before I left the house, brought several shots in travel shampoo bottles in my bag and stopped at the liquor store on the way to lunch to buy a bottle of vodka for backup and afterwards. When we sat down for lunch, I told her with a shaky voice that I thought I needed to quit drinking. She reached across the table and grabbed my hand and calmly asked me if I was ready. I told her I didn’t know.

That simple act of meeting my statement with love and acceptance and zero judgment changed everything for me. I continued to drink that day, making trips to the bathroom at lunch and at the movie to drink my shots and also consumed the lime vodka I had purchased earlier once I got home, but I had faced a fear by telling my mom the truth and she didn’t walk away from me.

I passed out before dinner that evening from the emotional exhaustion of the day combined with the amount of alcohol I had consumed. In the early hours of the next morning I woke up because of the lack of alcohol in my system, and I set out searching for the bottle of lime vodka I had stashed the previous evening. I had several hiding places, and I couldn’t remember which one I had used. I searched them all and came up empty handed. The only alcohol I could find was a tiny sip left in a water bottle in a kitchen drawer. I downed that and went back to bed.

When I woke up to the full light of day, a full blown hangover was beginning, and my husband had zero sympathy for me. I managed to get our daughter off to school without having to talk to anyone I knew or making a complete fool out of myself, returning home to surrendered myself to the couch. I occasionally got up from the couch to hunt for the missing bottle of lime vodka, knowing it would ease the pain I was feeling.

I never found the bottle of lime vodka that day, and as the hangover got worse, I decided to not go out and buy a new bottle because I was finally feeling what I had been avoiding for weeks, the detox process. Enough people knew I had a problem that I could no longer avoid it. When my husband called to ask if I might be willing to spend the weekend with my mom rather than take our planned trip to Glenwood Springs, I knew I had been handed a lifeline. If I had taken that trip, I would have continued to drink. Instead, I started on my path of sobriety and became willing to live life on life’s terms without alcohol.

My willingness to give up alcohol on that day surprised me, but looking back, I can see that the love and acceptance from my mom when I opened up to her is what opened the door for me to surrender my addiction. It was the first time that I showed myself completely around my problem with alcohol, and I was met right where I was at. She asked me if I was ready, and I told her I didn’t know if I was. I didn’t lie and give her the answer I thought she wanted to hear, I found myself being honest about alcohol for the first time.

I learned a valuable lesson sitting in the restaurant with my mom. I was honest with her about an issue I carried a lot of shame around, and she didn’t walk away from me. Sharing my pain and struggle brought us closer together and allowed her to be able to support me. I found my willingness to give up alcohol when I realized no one was going to try and make me change, but they would love me through the process until I was ready.

Join the conversation, become a Fix blogger. Share your experience, strength, and hope, or sound off on the issues affecting the addiction/recovery community. Create your account and start writing: