About Laura C.

I awoke from a drunken stupor sharply at 5:02am the morning of New Years Eve, 2006 with a migraine, and a voice in my head that said clearly and firmly, “that’s it – you’re done.” I stumbled to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I saw the face of a mother who did not remember how she had gotten home the night before, but I knew I had driven and I knew my family had been in the car.

They say every alcoholic has a bottom. This had to be mine. The woman in the mirror was not the woman I was meant to be, not the mother I was supposed to be, (to eight year-old Luca, and five year-old Isabella), and not the wife I wanted to be to a wonderful and supportive husband of ten years.

I hadn’t always been this reckless and out of control. I grew up in a loving, nurturing Leave-It-To-Beaver family of tea-totalers. Adopted at infancy, I spent my childhood feeling safe, happy and lacking for nothing. I didn’t begin drinking until my early twenties, and even then I so feared being out of control, I could count the number of times I got to the point of falling down or blacking out. I hated beer. I hated scotch, gin, and all that other nasty stinky stuff – but I loved my wine. In fact, my husband and I, (of course, an Italian!), loved our wine so much, we chose to marry in the Tuscan countryside.

So how did I end up ten years later slumped on the bathroom floor, with bruises on my body from a liver not functioning properly, and a drinking habit that required at least a bottle or more of wine per night to avoid the shakes?

They now tell me in my recovery programs, that this is a progressive disease, and the last year – after twenty years of controlled drinking – the disease began progressing rapidly. I went from calming social anxiety and stress of the day each day with my 2 glasses of wine at dinner for many years, to having the occasional glass or cosmo at lunch.

That went to cocktails at lunch with the “girls”, to continuing drinking into the evening. Before I knew it I was drinking 4-5 glasses a day just to feel normal. Meanwhile, of course, continuing to manage the house, drive my kids to playdates , church functions, school, etc. It seemed like I was on a constant pendulum of either buzzed or hungover. There was no in-between.

My husband likens it to “backing into a propeller.” Before I knew it, everything seemed to be centered around my drinking. From the moment I woke up in the morning it was the first thing on my mind as I planned my day. Did I have enough wine for dinner tonight? Were we going to someone’s house that didn’t drink? I would have to remember to bring enough to look like a good guest, but make sure I would get my allotment in; maybe I would have to have a couple before we leave. It never seemed odd to me that I refused to go to restaurants that didn’t serve alcohol, or that the local wine merchant knew me on a first name basis.

It overtook my life. I used it as an excuse for everything. Crack that bottle! The kids are driving me crazy, I’m overwhelmed, I’m bored, I’m celebrating, I’m depressed. Forget happy hour - every mother with young children knows it as the “witching hour,” that god-forsaken time between 5-7pm when children’s blood sugar plummets and their voices rise. I couldn’t wait to open the bottle and close my mind to the chaos. I stumbled along like this day after day, month after month, perpetually numb – losing the desire to connect deeply with my family – and once I began drinking, losing the ability.

Finally, closer friends began to notice and comment on some of my stranger behavior, like the night I bolted out my birthday party while opening presents. The last thing I remember is a cake coming toward me, and then black. Try explaining that one to twenty-five friends and neighbors! I laughed it off, forever the joker, but the truth was, the thought of giving up alcohol was simply out of the question.

I picked myself up off the bathroom floor and made it to the computer. Was I an alcoholic? I now can smile at the depth of the denial. I Googled that very question. I took an online test that said if you answer yes to two of the questions you probably should seek help. I answered yes to eleven!

So I took another test. And another. I took four tests and they all told me what I didn’t want to hear. I picked up the phone and called the 800 number for a Twelve Step Program. They found me a meeting that night in my town.

I went and I listened. I even put my hand up and told them I had driven drunk with my kids in the car and I was there to see if I was an alcoholic. Someone said I was brave, but I felt I was desperate. A man two rows behind me raised his hand and said he wished he had been me. He had driven drunk with his kids in the car, and got a DUI, then he drove drunk again and killed two people and injured another for life. He was just released from ten years in federal prison. I hung my head humbly and told God I got the message. I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

Since that day (December 31, 2006), I have not had a drink. I attended ninety meetings in ninety days, got a sponsor, and did what I was told.

My life has changed as they said it would. I now relish the time spent with “my peeps” in dimly lit church basements wherever I go around this country. I have come to see the truth in all the lies alcohol told me – like the chaos I thought I was managing with wine during the witching hour that I was actually causing by not being “present” to my family.

I now am able to be emotionally, and physically available to my loved ones.

I know alcoholism is the club no one in their right mind wants to join, but being willing to admit and accept my brokenness has been the greatest gift I have ever received. God and sobriety have given me back my health, my family, and my hope – and now it’s my turn to return the favor.

I have always been a singer/songwriter and in my twenties have had enough of a “peek behind the curtain” of success to tell a couple of good war stories – but at three months sober, songs about my struggle to stay away from drinking began to flow. I wrote about every new emotion that appeared – and new they were. After numbing myself for twenty years I had the emotional IQ of a nineteen year-old.

I wrote about the emptiness of driving drunk; I wrote about the anger of giving up the wine and having to spend endless hours in church basements with “those people,” waiting for the promises to come; I wrote about letting go and letting God, and about relapsing on painkillers for a neck injury; I wrote about feeling hopeful for the first time in years and not recognizing the emotion.

This collection of songs became my source of comfort and strength. I was unable to find music in stores or on the Internet that I could relate to during this struggle so I created my own. I call my music recovery music. I have put my musical journal together in a CD entitled The Gift of Brokenness. Twelve Steps/Twelve Songs, each song relates to where I was emotionally and spiritually along a Step in the twelve steps of recovery.

Recovery music is not just for addicts though. We are all recovering from something and trying to fill the void. I am humbled and honored as I find that those in recovery from depression, grief/loss and just life in general are responding to this music and finding encouragement, hope and strength.

Thanks for letting me share my story.

-Laura C.