My Story of Recovery
My Story of Recovery
Hi, my name is Peggy and by the Grace of God I have been sober for 30 years - since October 12, 1994.
I would like to tell you my story of recovery – what I was like, what happened, and how I am now.
The first time I told my story was right after I was sober for six months - the first time - some 34 years ago.
That night, I went to Mission Detox in Plymouth, Minnesota to speak to the patients there. It was my “belly-button” birthday and this is how I wanted to celebrate it.
As I was talking away, I saw this guy crawling toward me and at first I thought I must be imagining it. Then I remembered I was at a detox facility and that this guy was on a 72-hour hold and that he must be so drunk that he couldn’t walk. Anyway, as he got closer, I realized he was an old friend.
He crawled really close to me and sat there on his knees looking up at me - weaving back and forth while I was talking. It was a little distracting. When I was finished he pulled himself up and grabbed me and hugged me and shouted: “I didn’t know YOU had a drinking problem, Peggy….I am so sorry.”
He said that over and over again. He was actually feeling sorry for ME for being an alcoholic! Talk about denial – he was so drunk he couldn’t walk but he felt sorry for me who was standing there before him - 6 months sober! I gave him my phone number and told him to call me when he got out of detox and we could recover together. I was excited that he was going to get sober on my watch! I was going to be a star in recovery.
Well, the next week I went on my annual Caribbean cruise with a good friend and thought this would be the perfect test of my newfound sobriety! Cruises, casinos and Vegas are always dangerous places for addicts & alcoholics because there are no clocks, no windows, plenty of places to hide and get in trouble…and nobody knows your name.
I was proud of myself because I didn’t drink the entire week on that cruise and I thought that I FINALLY had this drinking thing licked. On the last night of the cruise we went to dinner and a show and then sat in the disco listening to music and watching the mirror ball twirl… it was early and nobody was in there yet. I was a dancing queen in the 70’s and I loved the mirror ball!
We needed to be up at the crack of dawn to pack and get off the ship - so my friend, who was sober and sane back then, went to bed. I told her I just wanted to sit there and relax in the quiet and I would be up shortly. I had no intention of drinking – I was just happy to be there.
The waitress came over and I ordered a diet coke. I drank that down. She came by again and I ordered another diet coke. I drank that down. She came by again but this time I ordered a Sambuca. I loved Sambuca – it’s that thick syrupy strong licorice liqueur that feels like fire going down your throat and coats every cell of your esophagus. They put those little coffee beans on top and light it on fire when they serve it. It was like a little party in a glass!
When I drank it I felt it all the way down to my toes. So I had another - and another.
The next thing I know the sun was coming up in the morning and I was in the hot tub with a group of folks I didn’t know - from New York - who apparently had lent me a bathing suit – and I was waving to my friend as she came out on the deck at 6am for breakfast. I don’t remember much about the night but I know I had tons of fun, until I didn’t!
That was how it was for me - once I started drinking I often couldn’t stop and I never knew when that would happen. When I came home from the trip, I was ashamed that I had failed - and screwed up my first 6 months of sobriety. Then, I found out that my old friend had been released from detox. He went home and shot himself in the head because he just couldn’t stop drinking - and left behind a 9 year old son. I went to the funeral but didn’t have the guts to go inside - so I dropped off a card and went home to drink myself to sleep.
So much for my first convert in recovery. So much for MY power to stop anyone from drinking. He would be the first of over a dozen people that I was close to that eventually committed suicide or died of overdoses because they couldn’t stop drinking or using drugs.
I feared then that everything I thought I knew about addiction was wrong - that maybe even recovery meetings couldn’t help me and I certainly couldn’t help anyone else.
I stopped going to recovery meetings and hanging out with sober friends. I stopped praying. I focused on my advertising business. I went out determined to keep my drinking under control as long as I possibly could on my own - knowing that eventually it would kill me just like it had several of my friends and family before me - I just didn’t know when.
I was never in denial about my addictions. I just didn’t think it was possible to stop. The first time I decided to quit drinking - I lasted 6 minutes, then 6 hours, then 6 days, then 6 months. How long would it be the next time?
It would be another three years before I finally decided to let God HELP me stay sober - and I thank God I did, or I wouldn’t be here with you all.
It’s been 30 years since my last drink. I took me countless tries to do that. Some call those relapses - I call them “I wasn’t ready to quit yet.” A little bit about me…
I grew up in Minneapolis, the oldest of three kids – my brother came along 10 months after me and my baby sister 2 years later.
My mother had my IQ tested so I could start kindergarten a year early because she didn’t want me and my brother in the same grade. I was already a caretaker type and pretty bossy, even at a young age, and she didn’t want me to boss him around.
I was always the littlest one in the class but had the biggest mouth and the teachers always put me in charge of things – recess, nap time, street crossings, coat closet, tutoring, you name it. They would tell me that I was smart and tenacious and that I could do anything. And when I made them proud, they’d take me across the street to the Dairy Queen & buy me a cone or a basket of tater tots! It was heaven! Even today, when I am feeling a little down, I go to the Dairy Queen for a cone! Cheapest happiness that money can buy!
I was little but had my dad’s penchant for barking orders and being responsible and my mom’s gift for getting things done! My mother was born with progressive nerve deafness and it affected her ability to hear and understand speech - and she passed that on to me & my brother. But, she never let it get in the way. She learned to read lips and thrived in spite of her hearing loss and taught me to do the same. She said we are NOT victims - we work around it - and besides most people don’t say much worth listening to anyway!
I loved grade school – it was my time! How pathetic is that – but it was true. I had lots of friends, teachers, neighbors and classmates who cared for me and counted on me. I had my grandma - I loved my Grandma Stevens - my mom’s mom. She taught me things and always made me feel safe. She never learned how to drive and Grandpa was dead - so we took the bus shopping and watched TV wrestling together at night!
We were pretty poor then - my father worked two to three jobs as a cab driver and ambulance driver and a mail man - and my mom was a hairdresser at the beauty parlor just down the block - Louella’s beauty salon - so she was gone most days and weekends.
My mom didn’t drive back then – and we only had one car - so we took the bus or walked to the grocery store and the park for swimming lessons and to school. My parents were always working so I was responsible for taking care of the house and the kids after school from the time I was very young. Back then babysitting and cooking and cleaning wasn’t a paid gig – it was my job! And I took my job very seriously!
My dad never drank. He never talked about why - but I could tell he didn’t like drinking. He didn’t like to be around drunk people either. My mom told me that his father was a mean drunk and that’s why my dad didn’t drink. Later, I asked my dad if that was true and he said yes. He said that he loved his father but hated him when he drank - that he loved his mother and hated how his father treated her. He didn’t want to be the same.
Two things happened during my grade school years that I believe had a major impact on how I reacted to life. I was 7 years old when President Kennedy was assassinated.
The 60’s were filled with fear – we had the Cuban Missile Crisis, assassinations, riots, the Vietnam war and lots of angry mobs in the streets and on the TV news.
I don’t think I really understood what was going on but I could FEEL the fear all around me. I remember we’d be shuttled down into the basement at school to hide from nuclear bombs that they said were coming at any minute & be forced to watch the TV news school us about the latest assassination and the latest riot.
The kids would be paralyzed with fear. At nap time, I would try to calm them down. Before they put down their mats to rest, I’d ask them to sit closely together and stroke each others’ forearms. It calmed us down and slowed down our breathing - just for a bit – so we could fall asleep.
When I was 10 years old, something happened at school that made me realize that the world isn’t always a fair or safe place and it changed how I react to life. Why is this important?
There’s a story of recovery that I read once - written by an female alcoholic in 1947 - called Freedom from Bondage that says I was conditioned for alcoholism based on the things that happened to me as a child and that I am the result of the way I reacted to things that happened to me as a child. That stuck with me.
Let’s look at what happened to me as a child and how I reacted to it:
One day at recess a couple of the new kids they had bussed to our school in South Minneapolis started picking on my little brother. They knocked him down and he started crying. I told them to stop and one pulled out a knife. I ran inside and got the teacher. That little boy got into trouble and I heard that he and 50 of his little friends were NOT happy and were going to make me pay for squealing on them.
The next day, as I left school for my weekly piano lesson – a block away - I looked out the front door – and at the bottom of the stairs was an angry mob of little kids. But this time they were after me. They had bricks and bats and books and sticks in their hands. I thought - should I stand my ground or should I run? I decided to run. I was terrified they would kill me.
Now, I wasn’t afraid of anything back then. I would put on a red cape and climb up the retaining wall and jump off. I thought I was Superman. That all changed that day.
I ran to the back door of the school, crossed the other street and ran diagonally through the neighborhood to my piano teacher’s house. I thought I had escaped their wrath - until I turned around and realized they were right behind me. I pounded and pounded on my piano teacher’s front door – LET ME IN.
My piano teacher, Mrs. Saunders – about 80 years old and frail – opened the door – her eyes wide with fear. She slammed the door shut just as the angry mob hit the porch. She called the police. She called my dad. My father was furious & grateful I was unharmed.
We met with the principal - who basically said there was nothing he could do about it - these are little kids. Hmm. I was accepted at a private school nearby – but my parents couldn’t afford it. So, my Dad planted a For Sale in the front yard and we moved from South Minneapolis after that - 5 miles away out to the “suburb” of Richfield where my dad thought we would be safe.
Not too long ago I drove by my old grade school – the building is still there. I sat in front of that door – the first time in 50 years - and remembered that moment as if it was yesterday – I couldn’t stop shaking and sobbing.
It was in that moment I realized that evil existed, that life wasn’t fair & just, that people WILL hurt you for no sane reason and that people in power, like the ones who ran that school, who were supposed to protect me won’t always have my back.
I realized that if someone doesn’t have your back – and chooses to side with evil rather than good - it literally could be a matter of life & death. It’s not a game. It’s not the movies. It’s not Netflix.
I never forgot that feeling. It became a part of who I am. I no longer felt invincible. I felt vulnerable and determined NEVER to let that happen to me again. I NEEDED TO BE SAFE at all costs and when a situation did NOT appear safe - I would leave it or prepare to defend myself to survive.
Junior High out in Richfield was tough for me at first - just like it is for most kids who have to change schools mid-stream - I was scared and alone and these families had much more money than we did. I had lost my friends in the old school and neighborhood and some of my confidence.
But soon, I met a couple of wonderful girls, Jean & Eileen, who made me feel safe and loved once again – and thankfully they are still my friends today. There was pizza, sleep overs, bike rides, swimming, softball, confirmation & cabin trips. I had a wonderful life in Junior High. Then I discovered boys.
I never thought I was attractive back then. Most boys ignored me or treated me like one of the gang. The ones I had crushes on never seemed to look my way.
But this one guy – named Mike – who was older & had a motorcycle - asked me out to the drag races. I thought, how cool! A boy likes me – an older boy – and I’ve never been to the drag races and I NEED to go to the drag races.
I think I was 15 and Mike was 18. Dad didn’t like Mike. I had been to the movies once with a boy named Gary when I was 14 – his father took us – and my dad was fine with that but Mike had his own car. This was different.
Now I learned that Mike smoked cigarettes & marijuana and drank liquor. But that didn’t matter to me because I was NOT going to do that. I was BETTER than that! I was SMARTER than that. I just wanted to go to the drag races – and be cool - so I asked my dad if I could go. We’d leave Saturday morning and come home Saturday evening.
My father said ABSOLUTELY NOT. As long as you live in my house you will do as I say. END OF DISCUSSION.
Well, that didn’t sit well with me. I thought I had earned the right to go. I thought I had earned his trust. I had never done anything bad. I was a pretty good kid. So I went about writing a long letter to my father telling him all the reasons I should be allowed to go…good student, good daughter, good worker, honest, diligent, trustworthy…blah blah blah. Those of you who know me know how I love to write out persuasive arguments!
I left the letter on the kitchen table and told Mike to pick me up at 5am Saturday morning before my parents got up. I was sure my father would see my point of view after he had a chance to review my total argument – which was very well-crafted, documented & supported.
LOL. It didn’t work out that way. I came home around 5pm – when the family was having dinner – and Dad was NOT happy. Corporal punishment ensued. I got the belt. That was the END of Mike.
Shortly after that, I met a nice boy in my 10th grade geometry class named Tom. He was funny & cute & my dad liked him very much. He made me laugh & had my back. Tom’s parents wanted him to be a Catholic Priest – but Tom decided we were going to be married after high school, he was going to go to community college and study accounting and we would live happily ever after.
I was happy and in love and went to Young Life in downtown Minneapolis with my good friends, Jean & Eileen, and felt the power of the Holy Spirit in me for the first time in my life! I was born again.
Before that, I truly think my impression of God was that he was a spy for my parents. Not kidding. My family went to church when I was a little girl but the only thing I remember about the service was the ending when the Minister made the sign of the cross and said:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
I loved that part. That’s one reason why the song The Blessing is so powerful and soothing for me today.
As a kid, I used to read the encyclopedia before I went to bed. We didn’t have internet back then – so you’d have to go to the World Book. We had a whole set of World Books on the shelf. The world was my oyster. I’d read a topic and at the end it would say “see this” – and I’d read about that too.
One day I decided to regale my grade school friends with what I’d learned about menstruation & reproduction – I was sure God was watching and would report back to my parents. I’m not sure where I got that idea!
Anyway, it was shortly after I was born again - and filled with the Holy spirit - that the devil showed up! Right on cue.
It was around that time that I started hanging out with group of kids in high school that I guess my parents would call hooligans. They drank, smoked, and partied hard. Their parents were separated or divorced. Some of the girls got pregnant and were “sent away” to have babies. It was a whole side of life I had never seen - I remember going to one party where they had a thing on the ground with a bunch of hoses coming out of it. To this day - I am overwhelmingly grateful that I never became a user of hard drugs.
One of my new friends was a tough girl named Violet. My dad didn’t like this girl and he didn’t like her parents – who were always fighting and separating. He didn’t like her mother - he called her insane - and he really didn’t like her father – turns out he was right – Violet’s father would later try to sexually abuse me just as he abused Violet and her sister.
At the time, I thought my dad was just being mean – now I know he was right, these people were a BAD influence and he was just looking out for me. My dad wasn’t perfect - but he always had my back – and he always tried to protect me – even when I didn’t like it & didn’t appreciate it.
I wanted to leave home and be on my own - so I interviewed for a secretarial job in the media department of an advertising agency. I could type really fast so I got the job. I started the advertising job the day after I graduated from high school - and told my parents I was moving out. I was going to stay with Violet & her mother until our apartment was ready.
Violet had a car. I didn’t. She was my ride. We moved to an apartment that was close to my work so I could walk there and close to the bus line so I could go shopping on the bus.
My dad came over to Violet’s mother’s house, pounding on the door and demanded I come home and get away from these people. They refused to answer the door and I just sat there shaking my head no. I wonder to this day if his pounding on the door brought me back to the angry mobs of my youth.
I remember this like it was yesterday. We had spaghetti for dinner - my favorite meal. I ran to the bathroom, locked the door and threw up – and then I threw up again and again -- and I remember how good it felt to feel in control for just that brief moment.
I felt all the fear flow out of me and I was at peace. I used to think I threw up that day because I was afraid of my dad – but now I think I was afraid he was right – I was 17 and alone – and scared to death. I left home with nothing but the clothes on my back and literally slept on the floor until I could make my way. Like my mother said – you make your bed - you lie in it. And I did.
For the next ten years I would purge my feelings that way – my anorexia and bulimia became a way of life - and I couldn’t stop. That was how I managed my anxiety about life. And when I did finally did stop, I replaced one addiction with another - and that was alcohol.
I never wanted to drink. I knew I came from a long line of “functional” alcoholics and planned to be strong like my dad and not drink, in control and above all that.
In my immediate circle, I knew many who died from alcohol or drugs and nobody talked about it. Addiction was considered an embarrassment and a weakness and a moral failing - so people conveniently died of something else - certainly not alcoholism or addiction. Recovery was mocked as a path for losers - some jokingly called it “taking the pledge.”
I even remember reading a newspaper article about my great great great grandfather, a famous fireman, who “fell off the truck” while on the way to a 5-alarm fire. Later I learned that he had been “disguised with alcohol” – that’s what the article said. In other words he was drunk and fell off the fire truck & was run over by horses - but nobody mentioned that part!
So, as a young adult, I was determined not to become an alcoholic and would carry my six pack of diet Fresca or Tab everywhere I went and quietly binge & purge when I thought no one was looking.
I was also determined NOT to be fat either - so I starved myself when I wasn’t binging and purging. I needed to convey to the world that I was perfectly in control - to cover the fear inside.
It worked for a while, but working in an ad agency in the 70’s is a tough place for a 17 year old girl to grow up and stay dry! It was cocktails at lunch and happy hour at 5pm and late nights every night at the office. I had a refrigerator in my office - filled with wine. It really was like that show Mad Men - it was wild and decadent and, actually, pretty fun.
I advanced quickly in my career because I was bright and a workaholic and I had a lot to prove – often working 15 hours a day and sleeping in the office.
I broke up with my sweet high school boyfriend, Tom, and justified it by saying it was the best thing for him - he should be a Catholic Priest and not with me. In reality, I wanted to practice my addictions alone – and I didn’t want to be judged or accountable to anyone. The good news is that he DID become a Catholic Priest & had a wonderful life.
I drank a lot and perfected binging and purging over the next ten years. I also developed a weird distorted view of my body during this time. Back then, Twiggy was in vogue – she weighed about 80 pounds and was hollow faced & skin & bones - that emaciated look is what the media told us defined an attractive woman.
I weigh about 120 pounds now but back then, for a while, I was 20 pounds lighter and I still thought I looked fat. What we do to ourselves.
I was quickly promoted at work from a secretary to a media buyer - and was invited by one of the sales reps to attend a Carpenters’ concert in Minneapolis. I was 20 years old. Do you remember Karen and Richard Carpenter?
We went to the concert and were invited backstage to meet Karen & Richard Carpenter. Their manager thought I was pretty and asked me if I wanted to go on tour with them for a week. They were going to go to Chicago and then to Toronto.
I asked my boss if I could go and she said sure – you deserve a vacation. I was grateful I didn’t have to ask my dad for permission – and write a position paper on why!
Anyway, that was the first time I ever flew on a plane. It was a Learjet and so cool! In the mornings, I would grab a coffee and go down to watch Karen Carpenter rehearse in the auditorium.
She would be standing there on the stage all by herself, in her robe, with curlers in her hair and fluffy slippers on her feet. She’d sing A cappella without any band or back up. She had a truly beautiful voice that absolutely filled the entire room - just perfect pitch - and I would sit and listen in awe. I had no idea she had such talent.
When she wasn’t performing, she and her brother would go back to their rooms – they never really made eye contact or talked to anyone - on the plane or on the ground.
The manager later told me that Karen was suffering from anorexia and bulimia and her brother had other addictions like porn and drugs. I thought wow, she's just like me. I think that was the first time I realized that I wasn’t the only one who did that. I was even more amazed that a “famous person” would do that.
When I got home from that trip, I decided it was time to get married. I was done with dating & I thought I could “fix myself” if I had a good man in my house. Or maybe I just didn’t want to end up like Karen Carpenter. So, I went to a bar - where they had a disco ball above the dance floor - looking for my future husband. And what do you know - there he was across the room!
I thought Paul was the cutest damn thing I had ever seen – tall, blond, lanky, funny, and adorable. We got married 7 months later & bought a house. My parents LOVED Paul. My Dad loved Paul. They were SO happy with my choice. I think I hoped by getting married and living together I would get over my bulimia and control my drinking.
Nah, didn’t happen, I just had to learn to binge & purge quietly and that filled me with MORE resentment! Marriage didn’t fix me but I sure did learn how to drink like a man!
I graduated from beer & wine to hard liquor. I drank perfect manhattans with an olive and a twist of course, not a cherry….and gin martinis with onions in chilled glasses.
We would go to parties and play game after game of Trivial Pursuit because it didn’t require much hand/eye coordination - until I got too drunk to speak. Then I’d stumble to bed, get up and start all over in the morning with Bloody Marys and beer at brunch.
Everything I did back then centered on drinking: cabin weekends, skiing, sailing, camping, road trips, horseback riding, all were just means to the same end - to drink.
I was a binge drinker and a binge eater - a workaholic during the week and a binger on the weekends. Oddly, the more I drank and purged, the more successful I became. Or maybe it was the other way around.
I was a Department head by 23, a VP in a billion dollar company by the time I was 25, I ran a business at 27 and built my own advertising agency by 32 - all without a college degree and all with progressive deafness. And, through it all I was a master at hiding who I really was inside.
I suffered the usual “female discrimination” at work back then - as all women did - but I didn’t let people roll over me – I stood my ground, worked hard and was rewarded for that. Surprisingly, I was rewarded by powerful men when I stood up for myself! That’s a lesson to learn, ladies.
Outside, I appeared responsible, paid my bills, helped my clients, helped my friends, trained my employees, worked hard and kept my house and person spotless. Inside, I was a wreck and filled with the most horrible loneliness and despair that you can imagine. I was determined that no one could ever know me because if they did they would hate me and see what a freak I really was.
I left my husband after 18 months for the same reason that I left my high school boyfriend. I told myself I was doing it for them – but the reality was I wanted to practice my nonsense alone and not be accountable or judged by anyone.
In 1980, I met a guy through work, Gary, who was the first person I ever told about my binging and purging. Why? I don’t know. I trusted him to have my back – no matter what. I look back and call him my angel – we are still close friends today although Gary lives far, far away.
He was really upset about my binging and purging and decided I needed to get help. He encouraged me to set up a meeting at a psychiatrist downtown and found me a group over at the University of Minnesota.
I went to the psychiatrist and told him what was going on. He gave me a battery of tests. He said you're smart, really smart. Your psych tests are normal – there’s nothing wrong with your brain. You just have a lot of responsibility for such a young woman.
He said, frankly, we don't know much about eating disorders - anorexia and bulimia - all we know is that we’ve had little success curing them. I asked him why. He said because abstinence doesn’t work – people have to eat or they’ll die. Abstinence is the preferred treatment for most addictions. But, people can’t stop eating like they can stop other addictions - like alcohol, gambling, drugs, porn or pills.
BUT, he said, not kidding, there is a new pill that just came out that's kind of a wonder drug for “the ladies” - so why don't you try that? He handed me some samples of a new drug called Valium. That’s what they did back then.
That’s around the time they started prescribing anti-depressants, diet pills and benzos to women like they were candy. Frankly, that’s what they still do. Hand you a bottle of pills and send you on your way! Don’t get me started on that topic!
Not too long ago, I briefly worked part-time for a well-known treatment center - in order to “give back” - and my job ended up being a “pill dispenser.” Seriously - I was ordered to give every new patient basically the same 5 or 6 psych meds. I left that job when I realized I was adding to the problem - not helping. In other words, many treatment centers today simply trade one addiction for 5 others!
I threw those Valium samples in the garbage - which back then were called “Mother’s Little Helper” and were designed to calm down and dumb down women. Now they use pills to quiet women instead of lobotomy & shock treatments like they used to.
Later I learned that they were nothing more than booze in a pill. That’s what benzos are - like Valium, Xanax & Ativan - BOOZE in a pill. Just like ADHD drugs are meth in a pill and Oxy is heroin in a pill. I didn’t want to add another addiction to my roster! I had enough! Food, booze, men, work & cigarettes!
Then, I went over to the group session, that Gary had found for me, at the University of Minnesota. I walked in the room and I thought it was going to be filled with women with anorexia & bulimia & body dysmorphia that I could talk to about my eating disorder – but strangely there were NO women!
It was a room basically filled with homeless men who had lost everything because they were drinking and binging and purging - just like me - but they were to the point where they would actually rob people to get money to buy the food and drink necessary to feed their addictions. Who knew? Not me. These are the things they do NOT report on the evening news. They were emaciated and sickly looking and I could see my future in front of me.
So, disgusted, I went out and I bought every single book I could possibly find on eating disorders & alcoholism & addictions and thought I could educate my way out of it. How did that work? It did not.
When I was 26, I was in New York on business and I got a call that my dad had had a major aneurysm burst in his brain while he was getting ready for work and he was in the hospital prepping for brain surgery. My mother was beside herself.
I flew home, took a cab to the hospital and when I got there my dad said he wanted to talk to me before he went into surgery. I sat beside him on the bed, behind a curtain, and he shared many things with me – things that I doubt he had ever shared with anyone before.
That was the first time in my life that my dad ever talked to me about how HE FELT - I learned more about him in that half hour than I knew about him my entire life. He appeared to know he was not going to come out of the surgery whole. He told me to be strong and take care of my mother, my brother & my sister. He told me he loved me. He told me that he loved my mom, very very much.
He came out of surgery with temporary paralysis and ended up never being able to form new memories. He could remember the past but he could not record the future. He always remembered me - but thought I was 26 years old - forever. The whole world was new to him every 60 seconds.
He was 53. He would spend 30 years like that at the Veteran’s Home before he died.
2 weeks later, Karen Carpenter died of complications from anorexia and bulimia. That was the day I decided to stop binging and purging. I didn’t want to die. My Dad asked me to take care of my mom, my brother and my sister. My parents needed me to be there. I just stopped – even though those doctors told me I never could. A 10 year addiction literally ended in a day.
How did I do it? I made a decision to stop. Every time I thought about it I stopped myself and just said no. I wired my brain for good – not bad and prayed for HELP every night. Today, I believe God put Karen Carpenter in my life – to teach me what could be if I didn’t change.
I know that many call addiction a disease and I understand why. But, for me, I’ve come to the conclusion that God gives us good brains - not diseased brains - and we can choose to use our God-given gifts for good or for bad. For example, I am focused and tenacious almost to the point of being OCD. But that means I can create a computer program in a weekend OR I can drink myself silly. It’s my choice. We can use our gifts for good or bad.
Unfortunately – my drinking REALLY ratcheted up after I quit binging and purging. I no longer purged what I drank. I absorbed every ounce. I simply traded one obsessive-compulsive addiction with another.
I think the turning point for me in my drinking career was a DWI - four years later - when I was 31 years old. I was supposed to go to my mom’s house for dinner on a Saturday night and drank a bunch of vodka before I went so I didn’t have to drink much when I got there. I did that often. I drank before an event so people didn’t see me drink that much.
I had wine with dinner at my mom’s and then had coffee. I left around 8PM to drive home – which was just 3 miles away - and the really scary thing is that I thought I was fine by then, I thought I was sober!
The next thing I knew I came to - hanging upside down by my seat belt in my mini-van - on the grass of an apartment complex – surrounded by police and ambulance and fire trucks and dozens of people.
Apparently, I had leaned down to tune the radio and went right through a red light and a Lincoln Continental had broadsided me and my mini-van rolled over 3-4 times. I miraculously wasn’t hurt and neither were the other people.
In my drunken stupor, at first I thought the people in the OTHER car ran the red light. When I finally realized it was MY fault - because people were pointing and screaming at me for being drunk and a danger - I told the police officer to take me away and lock me up forever. My blood alcohol was .24 and I hadn’t had a drink for several hours - and I thought I was sober. I can’t imagine what it was the moment I ran the red light. That’s the kind of tolerance I had built up.
The next day I went to see my totaled van. It was a mass of twisted metal. I couldn’t believe I survived that and was so grateful that I didn’t kill anyone or hurt anyone in the process. Against the lawyer’s recommendation, I went to court and pled guilty. I had already told the police I was guilty. In my mind, there was no point in denying it. I would accept the punishment for my crime.
I will never forget the probation officer telling me that .24 was really high and asking me if I thought I had a drinking problem. I said yes, absolutely, why, nobody has ever asked me that before. He said “Do you want help?” I said “Yes, I do.”
The judge agreed to waive my fine if I would go to a class one day a week for eight weeks after work. I agreed. I spent a weekend playing cards with sex offenders at the “work house” in Plymouth and went to “drunk classes” where they showed horrible films about drunk driving and taught us about the physical effects of chronic alcoholism.
I went to one recovery meeting but it was filled with old guys and didn’t go back. I didn’t really know much about recovery meetings back then - nobody ever talked about it. But, for the first time in my adult life, I went 6 weeks without drinking.
During that time, I got a call from an old friend who owned his own advertising agency and it was failing. He asked me if I would be willing to come over and run it for him and get it back on track. He needed a break. I was known as somebody who was good at turning things around. We talked and agreed on a compensation plan - he put me in charge - gave me his office and then he basically disappeared for a couple years and let me run things.
I was able to stay sober enough to bring in new clients, revamp the staff & procedures and bring us back to profitability within two years.
When it came time for him to share his newfound profits with me – that were due to my hard work – he suddenly fired me instead – said he was ready to take over again. He pushed me out with NO severance - he wanted all the money for himself.
I was shocked. Co-workers later told me he needed the money to fund a bad cocaine addiction. I had a house payment & cabin payment & car payment and no money in the bank. I thought my life was over.
The biggest clients called me at home and asked me what was going on. I told them. They told me that he had called them and told them that I was “having emotional issues” and needed six months of rest. I told them that was a total lie. He fired me and shoved me out the door with nothing.
The clients said the only reason we're there is because of you - so if you want to start your own ad agency just write up a contract and we’ll sign. I hired a staff and started my own ad agency out of my home - with millions in billings - one week later. Another large new client came on board the following week. Just when I thought my life was over - God had other plans.
Eventually I moved the agency out of my house to a suite downtown. For the next 7 years, I ran my own agency. I’d work all week long at my business – then on Friday night I’d usually lock myself in my house or head to the cabin along with a bottle of gin, a box of wine and a 12 pack of beer.
Friday night was martinis, Saturday morning was coffee and Bloody Marys, Saturday night was wine and Sunday morning was coffee followed by beer, a nap and the sobering up process – which started at around 3pm on Sunday afternoon for the work week ahead.
This was in the days of fax machines and I would fax material all over the country and then wake up Sunday morning and wonder what the heck I did the day before. I’d have to check and recheck my work to make sure I didn’t do something wrong. It was exhausting! Thank goodness they didn’t have text and/or email when I drank! What a mess that would have been.
I drank alone like this almost every weekend for the last 7 years of my drinking - either at my cabin or at home. If I had an event or a presentation - I would not drink for a few days to look good and stop shaking. I could do that.
I would count ounces to be sure I had no alcohol in my system before I would drive. I would read everything I could get my hands on to learn why I drank and how to quit drinking - but self-knowledge didn’t matter - once I started drinking in earnest I could not stop.
I would wander around the house with a bottle of Windex and shine every surface – as if keeping my BIG house spotless made up for my drunkenness. I would watch old movies on TV and marvel at how people could leave half-full glasses of wine on the table or just have two with dinner and stop.
How did normal people do that? It couldn’t be willpower because I was able to accomplish almost everything in my life I set out to do - except stop myself from drinking once I started.
People would envy me and thought I had the world by the tail. Little did they know who I was behind closed doors.
I would always plan to have enough booze on hand at home because I didn’t dare drink & drive – which was the best thing about getting that DWI - I would NEVER drink and drive again. So, if I ran out, I would call a liquor store and have them deliver a large quantity for the party I wasn’t really going to have!
I’d call and say I need to have a little bit of everything (beer, wine, booze) for all the guests. I’d even order scotch - even though I hated scotch - but I needed to diversify my liquor purchase because I was “fooling them all.”
And I’d look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom and scream “you are crazy, you are crazy.”
I was afraid to live and afraid to die and I didn’t know how to do either. It was one of those hopeless Saturday nights that finally started my recovery.
That evening, I opened the yellow pages under alcoholism and started dialing numbers until somebody answered. A, B, C and somebody finally answered the phone around 10pm. I was surprised that somebody answered. In fact, I think that’s why I was calling so late - hoping that nobody WOULD answer.
It turns out that it was a recovery meeting that had started at 8pm on a Saturday night in Edina, Minnesota – located ironically under a liquor store - some 20 miles away from me. One guy was cleaning up - so that’s why he was still there. The man on the phone offered to pick me up for a recovery meeting at 10am the next morning if I was willing to pour out my booze, go to bed and not drink until he picked me up.
I said “Sure, but you live too far away.” He asked me where I lived - and it turns out he lived right around the corner from me – near the work house. He knew right where I lived. Coincidence? Nope. GOD.
The next morning he showed up at my door, and when I walked in to that recovery meeting I saw happy people - men, women, young, old, happy, sober people. And a lot of cigarette smoke - which was fine with me because I was a serious smoker back then.
They gave me a copy of a book written by alcoholics in recovery and I took it home that night and read it all, every word, and for the first time in my life I didn’t feel like a freak. The first story I read was called Freedom from Bondage - written in 1947 by a woman. God was everywhere in that book. There were stories in that book written by women and men who were just like me. I was not the only one in the world who felt and acted this way - there were millions with the same struggles in hundreds of countries around the world.
I went to recovery meetings for six months and listened to lots of recovery stories. I spent time with a counselor who specialized in addiction and was in recovery herself. I hung out with other sober people and did fun things - sober. I even danced sober for the first time in 20 years! I did everything you aren’t supposed to do in your first year of sobriety but I was sober and I was happy and on a pink cloud and I thought the rules didn’t apply to me. I had this thing licked.
Then the cruise happened and my friend killed himself and I was a failure once again. The problem this time was that I failed at keeping my promise to stay sober and I was embarrassed and ashamed to be seen by my new sober friends.
But the good news is - at that point - I knew help existed for people like me. I knew how to find recovery meetings and counselors and sober people. I had experienced 6 months of continuous sobriety - so I knew it could be done. And I had a tiny sliver of hope, as the Bible says, a mustard seed of hope, that God could help me do it again if and when I was ready.
My bottom thankfully finally happened about three years later – three years of trying every possible way to control my drinking by myself.
My mom’s boyfriend dropped dead suddenly - and she was so distraught - it was hard to watch. 4 years after my dad’s brain stopped working my mom met a new man she fell madly in love with. I had never seen her so happy - and then he dropped dead on the dock while they were fishing.
I knew I had to do something or she would die - and I frankly was not in any shape to do anything - and I couldn’t lose her too on top of my dad. My mom couldn’t hear on the phone – so when she needed me she would call me and say my name and then I would drive over there to talk to her. This was before email and text. I could not be there for her – because I couldn’t drink and drive.
That was the bottom for me. I needed to be sober so I could be responsible and take care of my mom like I should. I promised my dad that I would.
So that night I called my old sober friends and they told me to pour my booze down the drain and meet them at the Rock Bottom Brewery in downtown Minneapolis the next day. I did. I told them I wanted to stop drinking. And they replied “Then don’t drink, hang out with us and go to meetings.”
And that’s what I did. After I was sober a year – I looked around at the life I had built, the business, the big house, the pool, the cars, the things I had bought to fill up that big hole inside and said - I don’t want any of this.
I sold my business and big house and most of my stuff. I got my people jobs at my clients and moved home with my mom, watched her get sober, slept in my old little room in Richfield and went to college for the first time. I went to community college - I didn’t want a degree - I just wanted to learn new stuff.
I loved it - I was 17 years old all over again at 38 and I had a second chance at being an adult. I had great teachers who reminded me of my youth. I started doing freelance assignments & taught myself lots of new things.
I was lucky enough to have my mom become my best friend and watch many people that I care about find sobriety. And I was able to be there for both my parents when they died. Clean & sober. What a gift & a blessing. I miss them both all the time.
Remember my boss with the cocaine addiction who fired me? Well, he was one of the people on my list of resentments that I had a hard time finding and forgiving – but I was willing.
Years later, I ran into him one day while I was visiting a friend in recovery who was having surgery at the Veteran’s hospital. My old boss was at the front desk - 8 years clean & sober – bright eyed and clear-headed and so happy to see me.
What a gift! God put him in front of me when I least expected it and most needed it. We hugged and all was well. I have found that if I am willing to change, forgive or connect – God will put people & things in front of me to help me do that.
I can honestly say that since I made a decision to stop drinking 30 years ago, and asked God to help me stay sober, that I have NOT once had a compulsion to drink. My obsession with alcohol was lifted overnight.
So where am I today? Well, I was blessed to retire early at 53 (the same age as my dad when he had his stroke) and spend my days doing healthy & purposeful things. Coincidence? NOPE. God. Oh, and there’s nothing better than waking up without an alarm!
I have learned what my triggers are and try to avoid them - rather than be a martyr and resist them. I don’t keep booze in the house so I’m not tempted when I’m alone. I don’t fill my cupboards with big bags of chips or my freezer with gallons of ice cream for the same reason. Portion control works best for me.
I have lots of sober friends - but I don’t judge my friends who drink. In fact, I am grateful they can enjoy a drink and stop - even though I cannot. And if I’m in any place that makes me uncomfortable - I leave.
But, a few years ago I started feeling the same anxious feelings that I had when I was a kid. When COVID hit - the world around me turned into a frightened and angry mob – divided by politics and faith, dangerous and filled with hate - just like my youth. Sadly, this division even happened in my recovery meetings and I didn’t like that at all.
I needed to run away for a while. So I did. I sold my home in Minneapolis and moved to my lake cabin in the woods of Wisconsin - where I see God everywhere.
Thankfully, this time, I ran toward God rather than away from him. Even better, I found out he’s been with me all this time – waiting for my return - all I had to do was let him in!
I’ve found new recovery meetings and made new sober friends - and stayed connected with many old and dear ones. I’ve found new churches and wonderful Pastors that I’ve learned so much from. All this has helped me deepen my faith and strengthen my recovery. I’ve personally found that if I balance my life between my Christian faith and my recovery - that works best for me. I believe each person must find what works best for them.
Today, I am often alone but rarely lonely and I go to sleep at night comforted by the fact that God is with me, that I did the best I could that day and that is all that is required.
Every night, I thank Him for another day and pray for a sober and clear-headed tomorrow. Every morning, He grants me a second chance at life.
I ask God to keep me sober & honest. I ask Him to give me wisdom and purpose. I ask Him to rebuke me when I’m wrong. I ask Him to show me the next right thing to do and say. I ask Him to open my eyes to see His miracles that happen around me every day.
I know that I can wire my brain for good or I can wire my brain for bad. It’s my choice. Somehow he finds people (I call them angels) to put in front of me to help me make good choices!
For a woman who didn’t trust anyone with her truth - and spent most of her life hidden away – I am proud to be here today telling you who I am - and knowing that it will be OK.
And with that, I will pass. It’s a great day to be sober and I LOVE YOU ALL. God Bless!
PS: Over 2 million people like me have found help by attending recovery meetings of all kinds and connecting with other sober people. Hallelujah! However, there are still an estimated 700 MILLION alcoholics and addicts around the globe who are still suffering. I believe that sharing OUR testimonies can help us stay sober and help others find sobriety.
To that end, I am creating a website where men and women can share their stories of recovery to help others. The testimony will be anonymous and include only a first name, sober date and birthplace. All are welcome to share. There will be no money involved, no donations accepted and no advertising allowed. My name will not appear anywhere on the website. Users will be referred to local recovery meetings. More details to come soon.
