This Time It’s Personal

Alright, well it’s been about a week now, so I guess I should explain why I’m doing this and how I got to this point in my life. I started drinking second semester of my freshman year. I had made a point of not drinking all of first semester. I didn’t like the way drunk people acted and how obnoxious they were. Actually, at one point, I was in a friend’s dorm room and two drunk people came in and I made him kick them out because I was nervous that they were going to get into trouble because they were so loud. It was unbearable.

Then, my boyfriend at the time joined the rowing team and we went to a few crew parties – I didn’t drink at the first one. Then at the second one I had a few beers, then I kept going. However, I never really got drunk. I was too afraid of being drunk around my friends and really had no idea what being drunk was like. I had this idea that if I had more than a few drinks, I suddenly would forget everything and be in total blackout. Well, as soon as I found out that doesn’t happen after 2 or 3 drinks, I drank a little more. And more. By the end of second semester, I was going out at least once a week. I always went with my boyfriend, so I felt safe and knew that I wouldn’t do anything too stupid or embarrassing. I definitely didn’t become a party animal right off the bat. Actually, I spent most nights that I did drink in my dorm with a few close friends. I was still too afraid to go to frat parties or really anywhere publicly because I thought I would get into trouble. But I never did.

I came home for the summer and drank maybe three or four times total over the four months. Everything was “back to normal”. I was hanging out with friends from high school who didn’t drink ever so I didn’t really have that temptation. However, I did meet up with some friends from Creighton (that live in Colorado) and we’d find a random house party to go to or something. It was a fun, relaxed, normal summer. I was also in a long distance relationship from my boyfriend and he didn’t really like the idea of me drinking with a bunch of guys with him not being there. I’m still not sure if it was him not trusting me, or not trusting everyone else.

When I got back to school, I seemed to fall right back into the same routine. I was back with my boyfriend (which started a whole different string of problems). I went out probably once a week again with my friends. We were in a new dorm which made it A LOT easier to get alcohol in without the desk workers finding out. We also knew a lot of people who were now in fraternities or sororities so we started getting invited to a lot more parties (they generally don’t like freshmen coming to their parties). One thing became another and I was going out more and more.

The drunkest I’ve ever been was on Halloween of my sophomore year. I wasn’t feeling good after dinner (we had all gone out to Chipotle) so I took a few anti-nausea pills and took it easy for a while. Then my roommate convinced me to go out with them. We got to the party and I told them I would just have a few drinks then leave early. Well, that didn’t happen. My friends gave me a few a drinks, then my boyfriend handed me a few, then a few random guys gave me some. I’m not really sure how much I drank in a 3 hour span, so it was about 13 shots worth of alcohol. I don’t remember leaving, I vaguely remember getting back into my dorm (which it’s a miracle they let me in at all). I got into my room, somehow climbed up my lofted bed with my boyfriend. About five minutes later, I sat up and got sick (right off the side of my bed). It was a mess. I got down and made it to the bathroom, while my friends were all still in the other room. I threw up for hours – literally. I got some bread and water, the whole deal. But it was terrible. When I woke up the next morning on the floor I had the worst headache of my life, still had to clean my entire room, and I had three 10 page papers due the following Monday. It was the worst day of my life. I told all my friends that I was never drinking again. It was bad. And I was serious. Needless to say, my friends have never ever let me live that one down.

After Halloween, I decided to take it easy with the drinking and focus on my school work. Me and my boyfriend had a lot of classes together, so he came over just about every day and we would work on homework. After we had been dating for a year, he surprised me with tickets to Denver Broncos game (which I’m a HUGE fan and had never been to a game) so we packed up and headed to Denver for the weekend. It was one of the most amazing weekends of my life. He made me feel so loved, so wanted, and so treasured. Later I found out, he was talking to another girl and saying some of the same things to her that he had said to me (“you’re so beautiful. you’re not like anyone else I know. etc etc” – we’ll call her girl #1). During this whole time too, he had started a new friendship with a new girl, we’ll call her Sarah just to keep it anonymous. Apparently, they had been hanging out and talking almost every day since September, but he never ever mentioned her to me. When we would hang out, he was almost constantly texting. But because I loved him and trusted him, I didn’t think anything of it. Pretty soon, he started studying in her room (instead of with me). At first, I was a little offended, but he calmed me down by saying that it’s okay to not spend so much time together because we’d eventually get sick of each other if we did. I agreed because that made sense. I wanted our relationship to stay good, and healthy. They began hanging out more and more and more. So I decided to take it upon myself to meet Sarah, get to know her, and kind of explain to her why I was so standoff-ish towards her. First of all, they were now calling each other “bestie” – and I SWEAR if I EVER hear that word I again, I will throw up. It was offensive to me, because he had told me during our weekend in Denver that I was his best friend and he couldn’t ask for a better best friend. So when they started calling each other this, I was seriously offended. Anyways, I invited her to get coffee with me on campus and she agreed. We sat down and talked about ourselves for a few minutes. Everything was going great. Then, I decided to have some serious talk with her. I told her how offended I was that they were calling each other “bestie” – yeah, I know how stupid it sounds. I told her how much my boyfriend meant to me and how I felt like I was starting to lose him. We had a good conversation and later that night, I recapped for him what I told her. I asked him not to use their new nickname either – I’m not sure why it bothered me so much, but it really really did.

From there, things really started going downhill. I wasn’t going out on weekends anymore, because he didn’t want to go, and I just wouldn’t go without him. I was afraid that some guys would take advantage of me or something. After finals, we both went home and were yet again, long distance. We talked regularly, but I knew I was losing him. I tried to cling on to him as much as I could…from long distance. But it was not healthy. At this point, almost all our conversations were about hooking up with each other or some tangent on that subject. Rarely did we have meaningful conversations about our future or dreams or religion. I thought it was all okay. We got back to school after a month, and we just weren’t clicking anymore – his mind was somewhere else, or with someone else. I didn’t really want to believe that it was so I denied it. Two weeks into the semester, he went on a campus-sponsored trip to Washington D.C. where he met girl #2. Yet again, I tried to prove to him that I trusted him. When they got back from the trip, he started studying with her nightly, texting her all the time. I started getting worried and drifted away from him a bit. The next weekend, he invited me to a party for his fraternity. Since I don’t really like his fraternity, I never went but he made me promise I’d go. By the time I got there he had taken 17 shots of vodka (that’s in two hours) and that’s enough to give someone alcohol poisoning. I took care of him ALL night. By the time he passed out around 3 am, his phone was going off constantly. I picked it up and read the messages – thinking they were from his frat brothers make sure he was okay. But no, they were from girl #2. Messages like “I’m feeling vulnerable. My girlfriend will never find out if you come. I want to see you tonight. I miss you.” etc etc. I was heartbroken. My heart sunk, my hands shook, I was devastated. I called my roommate at 3 am and she came and got me and I left him there at the frat house – and I took his phone.

I broke up with him the next day, my trust was shot. I later found out that on that night, he went to her room and slept there all night. To this day, I’m not sure if he every physically cheated on me. But I couldn’t be with him anymore. They started unofficially dating a few days later. The next weekend was Valentines Day and when I saw him, he had a hickey on his neck. The following month, they were facebook official. They’re still dating today.

The night I broke up with him, I went to a friend’s place and had a few drinks. Nothing much, just enough to “knock off the edge”. The next day was Sunday so I went to church and cried through the entire service. The worship band sang “You Are For Me” by Kari Jobe and I just lost it. On the drive home, “Last Kiss” by Taylor Swift came on the radio. I lost it again. I cried almost constantly for about two straight days. In that, I stopped eating and sleeping. I couldn’t stomach anything, and it was hard for me to even get into bed without being cold and lonely – knowing that he probably wasn’t. The following Wednesday, I received an e-mail from his (which I decided to read while I was at work) and it basically said that the break up was entirely my fault, and if I had been more mature, we would’ve worked things out. Welp, I got sent home from work for crying. When I got back to my dorm, I showed my roommates the email and they were livid. They decided to take me out and get me drunk – an idea I was entirely okay with. I got a lot more drunk than I had planned, mostly because I hadn’t eaten in days. The next day, I called my parents and told them the whole deal and they flew me home for the weekend. I just needed to get away from it all and they were worried about my health. I took a few days off work and went home for the weekend. It was great. There was a beautiful snow storm that weekend, I stayed in by the fireplace most of the time. But, Sunday night hit and i had to go Homaha. The night I got back, I asked my ex to come to my room because I needed closure – don’t worry, not much got resolved and he has yet to say sorry for any of this. He assured me that he wasn’t dating girl #2 and he wouldn’t be for a very very long time (hahahaha – look how that turned out). He left and I was empty again.

So, Wednesday I went out with my friends again. And Friday. And Saturday. And the following Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. I used drinking as an escape from the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain that I was going through. I was depressed. I remember the first guy that I made out with after my ex. I still see him everywhere and it’s SO awkward. I wanted to get him out of my head so bad, and it only seemed to happen when I was drunk. My grades started slipping, and I steadily kept drinking more. I still wouldn’t get blackout drunk (I’ve never been as bad as I was on Halloween). But I started hanging out with people who drank a lot. My week revolved around making plans for the weekend. By the end of semester, I had three C’s on my transcript (that NEVER happens to me). But now it was summer time and I was trying to get over my ex still. I had dated one guy for a few months toward the end of the semester, but that relationship revolved purely around drinking and hooking up – so I ended that.

Through the summer, I drank more during the week since I didn’t have school to worry about. It all seemed alright. It was so comfortable. I was doing well, and in my head, I was moving on. But I started to lose some people who I really counted on a lot during my depression. One friend told me that all I talked about was drinking and he wouldn’t have a part of it – so he stopped talking to me. Another friend said I had become irritating in how often I drank and I was always asking when the next party was or what everyone else’s plans were. My own roommate made a comment about it. Well, since my roommate also happens to be one of my closest friends, that’s where I drew the line. For the first time, I realized that I had a problem.

I sought help from some church friends. I cried a lot. That was about a month ago. Then, I decided I needed to talk to my pastor about it. I had almost completely stopped going to church, figuring God didn’t want to help me or even hear my prayers anymore. He gave me a lot of tools, and like I said in a previous post, he told me that I was being convicted of sin and need to ask God to change my heart.

Well, I guess that catches you up to my last post. I really really want to fix my life. I’m only 19 and I already have a drinking problem. But I’m a child of God and I know He’s going to help me through this. I have taken on this problem for myself, but not by myself. I have support from family, friends, my pastor, and more importantly God. He’s going to get me through this. For so long, I used alcohol as an escape. It was an escape from the pain of heartbreak and being replaced so quickly. I was also trying to escape the conviction of God – I knew He knew what I was doing. It’s a “one day at a time” sort of thing. But, things are starting to turn around. I’m really proud of myself for having gone almost a week and a half without drinking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to quit “cold turkey” because I do want to maintain a lot of those friendships, even if they will no longer revolve around drinking. A friend (here’s your shout-out – you know who you are) told me that it’s a testimony to others to prove to them that you can go out and not drink and still have fun. You don’t NEED drinking to have fun, it’s just the path most people choose to take. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to put myself in those settings yet, but I know that I’m not trying to escape anything now. I’m running to God, instead of away from him. I’m ready to make my life a testimony to others.

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One comment on “This Time It’s Personal

  1. Kris says:

    I think this is your most powerful post yet. Very honest, very raw. I could quite literally feel your pain – I was sitting here reading and noticed my stomach actually was clenching.

    You’re going to make it. In fact, I can’t wait until you turn this blog into a book. 🙂 (And no, I’m not joking!)

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