Alcohol for me was the way to escape reality. It was a way for me to be me, the me that I wanted to be. Without alcohol I was shy, fragile, terrified, and severely insecure. But add a little vodka or tequila, I was the life of the party. Alcohol gave me courage, alcohol gave me confidence, alcohol gave me wings... until one day it wasn’t there to break my fall from the sky. I never thought I had a problem because I have friends, I have a job, my family loves me, I’ve never been arrested, I go to school full time, etc. On the outside looking in you would never know that there was something wrong, I made the exterior so damn pretty just to make sure that nobody saw how messed up my interior was becoming. I was in a sorority, I got a good grade, I was off this Friday night, I argued with a girlfriend, I argued with my step mom. I always found justifications for my drinking.
Drunk Jen had it all, and made sure everybody knew it. She had no fears, no cares, no regrets, she’d do anything to anyone to get the next one, anything to make her not have to face reality. When I was drinking I did a lot of things that I can say that I’m not proud of. When I was drinking I hurt a lot of people, and I never really thought of it like that because I wasn’t physically hurting someone, but verbally. Yikes.
Mostly though? I hurt myself. I did so much damaged that I wasn’t even aware of until I got sober. Alcohol was always my go to, my best friend, my security blanket, until one day I finally took the advice that I didn’t want to hear and began the process of breaking up with drunk Jen.
I broke up with my girlfriend 2 years ago back in August, I thought my heart wouldn’t bear any more pain. And you know what? Breaking up with alcohol was worst than that. Worse than learning how to eat again thanks to anorexia. Breaking up with alcohol is me having to learn how to be a person again, how to LIVE life on life’s terms..and that’s terrifying, but here I am, doing it for 70 days. Some days are really hard, but it’s okay, I’m okay.