Читать книгу Young & Sober - Группа авторов - Страница 23

July 1998

I started drinking when I was eleven years old. My grandpa was drinking beer and he asked me if I wanted a sip. I said yes. My sip was finishing off the bottle, and then drinking quite a few more. I hated the taste of beer and despised the smell, but when the effects hit me, I was in love. My whole body burned with a numbing fire. I could stand on top of the world with alcohol. All my problems went away.

Right off I was an everyday drinker. I stole from my friends’ parents, hung out at slop houses, and went to parties. None of the people I went to school with had any clue what I was doing. But I was hooked.

For a year, no one knew that I was drinking almost all the time. At twelve years old, I had my first experience with drugs and I got that high feeling again—the feeling that I could stand on top of the world. I was popular, beautiful, and bulletproof. My journey with drugs progressed rapidly with the aid of my alcoholism.

It was fun for a time. The parties were good, the friends were good, life seemed good. But the fun didn’t last. It became harder to get the things I needed from people. School authorities didn’t like my habits or my attitudes, so I was kicked out of every school I went to.

My parents were baffled. They didn’t know that I was drinking and drugging; they thought I was going through a rebellious phase. I didn’t care what they thought as long as they didn’t know the truth.

I didn’t know the truth either—that I had a problem that was steadily getting worse. I started prostituting for drugs, and it ripped me up inside. Getting out of bed every morning was a fresh introduction to hell.

In January 1996, I ran away from home. I was sleeping on curbs in the Utah winter. I couldn’t control my craving for alcohol. I had reached my bottom.

Two weeks later, my parents found me. They took me to an adolescent psychiatric ward where I made an alcohol inventory and got a Big Book that I read cover to cover. But when I got out of treatment, I didn’t know where to go and I started drinking again. My relapse lasted a little over three weeks. I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and started to cry. I was fourteen, weighed eighty-five pounds, had stringy hair and dead eyes lined with fatigue. That person in the mirror scared me; I didn’t want it to be me. I needed help.

I called my psych ward and my counselor gave me the number of an AA central office. I took it. I felt hope resurfacing in my life for the first time in years.

I didn’t call for another week. I was scared; I wasn’t sure what I would say. I stayed dry for that week, but I was miserable. Finally, that misery became too much to bear. I picked up the phone and called.

A really nice lady answered. She took my name and number and told me that someone would get back to me as soon as possible. Someone did. That person took me to my first meeting.

I don’t remember a whole lot that was said at that meeting, but there was a feeling of happiness and peace in that room and it affected me.

I started going to meetings every day. I got a sponsor. I began to work the Steps. I got into lots of service work. Surprisingly enough, my life began to change for the better. I found a Higher Power of my own understanding.

Now I’m sixteen years old, and I’m coming up on two years of sobriety. I’d love to tell you that life has been easy and sweet since I got sober, but some days I have to really work to keep my sanity. But I have a program for living that makes it much easier.

Life is better today. I have a support group of friends who have stuck with me in sobriety. I feel things now, and I don’t mind feeling them. I have a relationship with a guy in the Fellowship, and he helps me in ways I can’t describe.

Only one thing really helps me: I try to listen to the suggestions and the experiences. “Keep Coming Back” also helps. This program isn’t for those who need it; it’s for those who want it. I’m just glad I wanted it badly enough.

BREANNE M.

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH