The actual definition of rock bottom is “the lowest or most fundamental part or level.” That’s not very helpful, because when it comes to alcohol addiction, there is a societal expectation that you decide to stop drinking when you hit rock bottom. Where is that exactly? How much damage do I have to inflict on myself and my circumstances in life before I slam into the infamous rock bottom?
The problem is that rock bottom is different for everyone. Someone recently told me that there are warning signs that people who have an actual addiction to alcohol will exhibit, and the examples she gave were several DUI’s or not showing up for work and jeopardizing your job. I agree that those are very strong indicators that there is a problem. My question is, why do I have to throw an atom bomb into my life for others to believe that there is a problem?
If you were to evaluate my life on paper right now, looking at everything except the alcohol abuse, it would not fit the stereotype of an alcoholic. Job, check. Beautiful home, check. Friends, check. All of the boxes checked, basically. My entire life is an endless stream of checked boxes and accomplished tasks. In fact, you could say that I’ve already bounced back from rock bottom. Nearly four years ago, my life looked a lot different. I closed my yoga studio after two years of struggling and going through bankruptcy. I was living in a tiny studio apartment and drinking two bottles of wine a day. I was unemployed and had very little money left, so for three months that summer if I was low on cash, I would sell things so that I never had to go without alcohol. A crock pot, shoes, flat iron, furniture, you name it. If I had $30 to my name, I would get a box of wine for $20 and spend $10 on boxes of pasta. By the end of that summer, I was facing being evicted from my apartment. I was estranged from my family and didn’t want to admit to any of my friends how bad I had let things get.
Thankfully, something inside me woke up one Sunday and I decided I had to get my shit together. I revamped my resume and started sending it out. Within a few days I had interviews and a week later I had a job offer. I moved into a new apartment and a few months later I bought a new car. I also bought all new furniture, though I told my friends I did it because I wanted a “fresh start.” Really, it’s because I sold everything to keep from ending up homeless. By the end of 2015, I had turned it all around, though. Right?
In a previous post I wrote about how struggling with alcohol abuse sometimes feels like the Wizard of Oz. It’s all smoke and mirrors and projecting the image you want other people to see. The truth is, I never stopped drinking. I would go through periods where I had a “wine timeout” and would stop completely. But these never lasted more than two or three weeks, and it was always motivated by my desire to lose weight. Turns out my vanity is a lot more powerful than my addiction, but only for a short while. I make the rules we all make, like only on weekends, just with friends, just for tonight, just one bottle, not every night…it doesn’t work. Within a few weeks, I’m back to drinking every night, sleep deprived, groggy, unmotivated, gaining weight, and ultimately depressed and miserable. I’ve been going through this same cycle for nearly four years now. I stop drinking and then battle moderation, which usually lasts about six or eight weeks before I’m back to drinking every day. But during that time, I work out more and lose weight and start feeling better. Friends notice that I seem better. Within a couple of months, I’m drinking every day and losing motivation to do things that usually make me feel good. I pull away from friends, I stop working out, I lose focus at work and at home, I eat poorly and start gaining the weight back. Drink. Quit. Repeat.
What ultimately started happening is that the low points got lower. The periods of time that I was able to stop or struggle to moderate my drinking got shorter. In 2018 I spent less time with my friends than I ever have before. I didn’t want to answer questions about what I had been up to or how life was going because all I felt like doing was complaining. I was so miserable and felt so trapped in this cycle, and yet did not want to be honest with anyone about what was really going on because admitting that I had a problem with alcohol meant that I needed to give it up completely. It’s so much easier to wallow in my own misery than make the effort to feel better.
In January 2019, two weeks into the new year, six months into going back to therapy, another failed attempt at cutting back on alcohol and I was ready to give up. Vanity was no longer more powerful than the addiction. I had reached a point where I didn’t want to be around friends at all and didn’t want to go to therapy anymore because none of it could help me. There was just no way for me to feel consistently happy, and I was tired of fighting that battle.
And there it was. My own personal rock bottom. I had everything I wanted, the house, the friends, family, money, career, all of it. From the outside looking in, life was going great for me. So why was I so utterly miserable and defeated? My rock bottom happened when I recognized that I no longer had anything outside of myself to blame for my unhappiness. I no longer had the struggles of four years ago, I had the financial security and the love of friends and family. I checked all of the boxes, met all of my goals, and I’m drinking away my nights and white knuckling my way through life.
Rock bottom cannot be universally defined because it is a very individual experience for all of us. The truth is, everyone around you does not have to witness your rock bottom for you to be there. You don’t have to lose your business, go bankrupt, face eviction and lose your belongings to get to your rock bottom. You may go through all of those things and keep drinking. I certainly did. All of those things were happening around me and they also allowed me to deflect the blame for my unhappiness. I had a reason to drink, look at all the shit happening to me! It wasn’t until I recognized that my unhappiness ran much deeper than my external circumstances that I finally made the decision to change my life.
My rock bottom may not look like anyone else’s and it may not fit someone else’s definition of what rock bottom should be. That’s okay. We get there when we get there. Then you make a choice, and I choose my own adventure.
Mocktail Moxie 