What I Was Handed, and What I Chose
I was two years old when my alcoholic father handed me a full can of beer. I drank the entire thing. That was the first time I got drunk. It was the first time I remember my parents fighting. My mom was infuriated and my dad was trying to be a bad-ass in front of his drinking buddies by dismissing her anger towards him.
I didn’t know then what that moment, and so many others, would ultimately lead to.
The Timeline I Didn’t Choose
Today, I am two years sober from alcohol.
Two years without a psychotic bipolar relapse.
Two years of navigating the hardest feelings and moments I have ever faced.
Over five years since I was charged with domestic violence rooted in substance abuse and deep, unresolved parental wounding. Never repeated.
Over five years since I had a violent rage.
Forty-two years with a genetic variant that causes me to have roughly 40% fewer dopamine receptors than I should have been born with. My struggle with addiction is hard-coded into my DNA.
Forty-two years of facing and feeling trauma stored in my body, trauma I can’t run from.
Some of it shows up daily.
Some of it happened before I had a voice.
Some while I was still swimming in the womb.
Some while I was only an egg inside my mother, while she was inside my grandmother’s womb.
Twenty-three years since my father’s alcoholism killed him.
Ten years since my mother died.
I became an orphan at 32.
The Wreckage Wasn’t Mine, The Healing Is
I didn’t ask for these burdens. They were forced onto me. I was handed a mess I didn’t make. It’s unfair. It’s painful.
And still, I am the one who has to clean up the wreckage left behind by others.
I’ve lost my children, special friends, and partners along the way, through addiction, bipolar disorder, and trauma-driven patterns. Some returned, some never came back.
I’ve lost myself over and over in the process.
Some days it feels like the grief will never end.
What I Choose Today
Today, I choose myself.
My mental and physical health.
My emotional safety.
My happiness.
And to love myself through everything I do.
Today, I move forward one day at a time, in integrity with myself and others. I give myself grace and forgiveness, knowing I have always done the best I could with what I knew and what I had lived through.
My mistakes do not define me, unless I knowingly and willfully repeat them.
Today, I am learning how to use my voice again.
That it’s okay to cry.
That it’s okay to speak my truth.
To name my needs and wants.
To have and keep boundaries.
To stop performing for others while abandoning myself.
To be brutally honest with myself and with others.
To stop rescuing everyone else and finally rescue myself.
I am learning to put my oxygen mask on first.
Still Standing
I am wildly tenacious in my pursuit of the life I deserve, want, and need.
I honestly should be dead from my decisions and behaviors over the years. And yet, every time, I crawl back alive. Stronger. More determined.
It’s cockroach energy.
Life has stepped on me.
Sprayed me with pesticide.
Radiated me with nuclear fallout.
And I’m still alive. ☺️
I am Grateful For You
I am grateful for your love, compassion, and support as I navigate, own, and demonstrate accountability for my challenges, decisions, and behaviors.
I’m grateful for your existence and for the way you exist in my life.
Healing is my responsibility.
Healing with you by my side is a gift.
I’m moving forward, with you alongside me, and it’s the most precious thing I could ever ask for.
Thank you.