When I Grow Up I Want To Be An Alcoholic. Well, Not Really.
I don’t know about you, but according to my family, as a toddler my biggest dilemma was trying to decide whether I wanted to be an M & Mä or a bunny when I grew up. Such are the burdens of a single digit age-dom. While I can’t recall this childish quandary with any precision, I can say with absolute certainty that I never ran around saying, “When I grow up, I want to be an alcoholic.”
Mine was a picturesque childhood; happily married parents, two completely well-adjusted older siblings, and support in droves from all of them. I was a curious kid of above-average intelligence, with a predilection for breaking the rules. To this day, I have no idea where this defiant streak stems from. What I do know is that as far back as I can remember; life unadorned seemed unsatisfactory to me.
That changed the minute I had my first drink. From that moment, I wondered why everyone wasn’t always drunk all the time. It felt like heaven. The monotony of day-to-day existence evanesced. Dull people became interesting and braggarts became tolerable. Along my teen years, I also managed to acquire an affinity for narcotics, of both the upper AND downer variety. Life in the fast lane suddenly became more fun than I’d ever imagined. Until it wasn’t. I was 18 years old when I checked into my first rehab.
It’s been 16 years since I first acknowledged that I had a problem with drugs and alcohol. I wish I could say that I grew up and since then I’ve been clean and sober, and got to fulfill my childhood dreams of becoming a sweet little treat, or an adorable rabbit who brings kids baskets full of candy. But that’s not my story.
My story involves a remarkable amount of professional success, and wholly disastrous personal relationships. It involves a great deal of fun, overshadowed by a tremendous amount of trouble and pain. But perhaps the most devastating consequences of the disease of addiction, was the way it destroyed my self esteem and disconnected me from God. (For the record, it eventually cost me all of that professional success as well).
So this isn’t a glory filled road I’ve trekked. But it is a road that has been invaluable in terms of teaching me how to be grateful for the little things- like not being in jail or not dying. You know, minor perks.
It’s a road that has slowly taught me how to be honest. And it’s teaching me how to grow up, though not nearly as gracefully as I’d have liked. All the same, confronting my addiction, and being able to help dispel any preconceived notions or myths about what an alcoholic looks like, or where they come from, has allowed me to live a more authentic life. It has allowed me to look myself in the mirror honestly, accept the truth about myself, and most importantly, reconnect with God. And I’m immensely grateful for these opportunities as well. Because I firmly believe that as a result of the treacherous path that I took, I may be able to help someone else avoid a great deal of pain.
I’m not certain, but I think that helping others is a very grown up thing to do.
Words By: Jen Brazgel
Photo By: Jana Van De Bolt
