“My name is Tracie and I am a Alcoholic. “I’m an Alcoholic” these words were probably the hardest words for me ever to say in my whole life. Admitting that I was an alcoholic meant defeat; that I couldn’t manage anything at all. For me this meant that I had failed at life; at everything. It also meant that I wasn’t strong, that I was weak. That I had basically rolled over and died (as my father would say). I would have never believed I was an alcoholic before I went to treatment. Never in a day did I think, alcohol was my problem; that if I stopped putting alcohol in my body that the madness and chaos that swarmed my brain every waking hour would quiet. I didn’t even believe I was addicted. Alcohol was legal, therefore it was not a drug.

I don’t remember the exact day I became addicted to alcohol, but I do remember deciding to myself that I was going to be one of “those people who drank heavily.” I remember the feeling; it was a kind of sick feeling. But I was making a life decision, that this was how I was going to be forever. I wasn’t proud of the decision, but I remember thinking “this is me, I finally arrived at reality it’s time to accept it.” I also remember the day I began drinking during the week and then during the day, I was angry and fearful about something at work, I chose to cope with the situation by going home at lunch and drinking two beers. I felt better and that “situation” wasn’t an a situation anymore. Anger and fear were placed with “I don’t give a crap what anyone thinks.” Drinking during the day began, along with drinking to pass out every night. This became my new normal. I remember feeling like everyday “why am I still waking up.” I remember feeling that I didn’t deserve to live and everything/everyone would be better off if I was dead. I became physically and mentally addicted to King Alcohol. The sickest part of me believed I was fine and that no one would notice. My reality skewed and I drank to quiet everything and everyone.

I remember the day I stopped caring about food, cleanliness, work, my 7 year old daughter, about life. I didn’t care and couldn’t function, other than to get and drink as much alcohol as possible. I didn’t care if I passed out, I would just wake up to drink more alcohol.

If I didn’t have alcohol I was suffering from withdrawal. Withdrawal was awful, painful so I made sure I didn’t withdraw.

I remember the day this day so clear. I couldn’t take it anymore. I laid in bed crying and shaking, my stomach wouldn’t hold alcohol down. I threw up to drink more Vodka. I remember sitting there on the bathroom floor, I had just thrown up, I thought “this is crazy” but my head hurt and my stomach was cramping. I drank more Vodka, this time in tiny long sips. It was warm, and tasted slick… but hard. I felt my body, like it was begging for it… Almost like a sunburn begs to be cooled, but you know it’s going to hurt when you put that coolness on your skin. I managed to drink the rest of the jug and laid down in my bed. My mother called, and talked to me. The only part of the conversation I remember is her saying, “if you want me to come and help you I will; you have to ask me for my help.” She made me say “please come help me.” I remember feeling that I didn’t care anymore about anything, that I was going to die. She said she would be there the next day. I cried and passed out.

September 25th 2009 my mother took me to detox at the hospital. I has no idea what this meant, but I was sure I was going to die so I thought, “what the hell”. I spent 5 days in the detox unit of the hospital. I was very sick, mentally and physically.

My mother said inpatient treatment was the only way. The doctor and psychiatrist told me I was a liar and a drunk, that I going to die, if I didn’t get treatment. I refused to go at first. My mother said these magic words, “it will be like a vacation, a little time for you to get away and rest.” All I heard was, “vacation”. I said yes. The next thing I remember, I was at the treatment facility and my mother was leaving. Reality began to kick in. What have I done?

I was told I needed to say I was an alcoholic. I couldn’t. All I did was cry, and detox more from the alcohol. I found out I had a disease, this was not my fault. I found out that I was hurting more than myself. I heard the phrases like ”can never drink again; one day at a time”, “phenomenon of craving” and “mental obsession,” “if left untreated,” “jails institutions or death.” I learned that I was not alone – that everything I thought – someone else had thought. I wasn’t crazy.
When I left treatment I still couldn’t say out loud that I was an alcoholic, but I believed that I was. I believed that if I drank again I would most likely die.

This is how Alcoholics Anonymous came into my life. I never stopped going to meetings or trying to work the program of AA. I got a sponsor and a homegroup, and a job in that homegroup. Life became better. I began to grow into a different person that actually lived life.

I did relapse in December of 2014. Two days of drinking lead me to fully believe my disease is not curable. If left untreated I will drink again. I am truly an alcoholic. I have a disease that wants to kill me and is willing to go to any lengths to do so. I must go to any lengths to prevent this from happening. I am forever more, grateful for the people who helped me have faith again in a higher power and something greater than myself.”

I feel that naltrexone is an under used resource. I believe that if more addicts realized that they could take away the effects of the opiates without the abuse potential of Suboxone, it would allow more addicts to get over the hump to recovery.”