.png)
'As a little girl it was never my dream to grow up to be an addict.'
One of my missions for The Empowerment Warrior is to help eradicate the stigma that surrounds addiction so I want to share my story with you to emphasise that this condition can hit anyone at any time.
So, grab a cup of something comforting, cosy up, and let's dive in.
As I sit to write this I can’t help but think about the family member we have just lost to this truly destructive disease because he just couldn’t admit that he had a ‘problem’. To quote Gabor Mate, ‘don't ask why the addiction, ask why the pain. To understand people's pain, you have to understand their lives. In other words, addiction is a normal response to trauma.’
As a little girl it was never my dream to grow up to be an addict. In fact if you’d have met me at about 6 years old and asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up my answer would always be ‘a nurse’. I wanted to take away people’s pain and help them feel better.
Today I'm a 45-year-old mom. I may not be a nurse but I am helping people live happier, more vibrant lives and I am proud to say that I am sober but it wasn’t always this way. For a whopping three decades, I was stuck in the gnarly grip of addiction. But before we get to the part where my life spiralled into daily despair, let's rewind a bit.
I believe I was born to be an addict, not because I had a terrible childhood, in fact on the surface I had a seemingly normal childhood in a respectable, middle-class home with loving parents. But because beneath it all, I experienced trauma, the breakdown of my parents' relationship and the on-set of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis just to mention a couple, but as a sensitive soul without the tools to process and deal with these I was not able to handle the struggles.
My previous perspective of my childhood was not so rosy though, my parents are good people, they mean well and they did the best they could with the information they had at the time but I still managed to collected a host of beliefs that left me not feeling good enough, lovable enough, fearful and like I didn’t fit in anywhere.
So when I hit my early teens I found what felt like a much needed lifeline in alcohol and weed. They gave me confidence, they enabled me to fit in with my peers to feel good enough, courageous and most importantly they gave me a way of avoiding the discomfort that growing up brings... parental arguments, bullying, heartbreak, teenage infidelity.
Little did I know that these fixes would eventually set me on a slippery slope of self-destruction oiled with an even greater sense of guilt, shame and inadequacy.
Despite this self destructive road I found myself on I managed to scrape through school and even get into University which is when I did my first ‘geographical’.
University was supposed to be my escape hatch from the madness, my golden ticket out of feeling lost and inadequate. But it turned out to be more like a circus than a ticket to freedom.
I was surrounded by people who seemed to have life all figured out, and there I was, feeling like a misfit with my own private stash of insecurities. I felt even less attractive, even less worthy, shy, insecure and inexperienced. And that's when the alcohol and drugs took over, uninvited yet strangely alluring. Drinking helped me let go, drugs gave me confidence and stamina and again made me feel like I fit in with everyone else. The late night deep and meaningfuls with people on bathroom floors high as a kite gave me a sense of connection that I yearned so much for. And then I needed the weed to be able to handle the hangover and comedown.
These substances became my secret allies, giving me a temporary shot of confidence and belonging. But behind the mask, I still felt like that insecure, shy, and inexperienced girl, wondering if she'd ever fit in and if she’d ever feel like a proper grown up.
Late-night heart-to-hearts in dimly lit bathrooms with fellow wanderers felt like moments of genuine connection. Yet, when the high wore off, the loneliness and emptiness returned, like a relentless tide. Weed became my constant, my escape, my silent companion in the storm.
After university, my life became a blur of geographical jumps, codependent relationships, and jobs that chipped away at my self-worth. All the while, I was using weed to numb the pain, to the point where it became a crutch even before work.
Then came the real world and a series of jobs that destroyed my sense of self worth even further, like much of the UK workforce, socialising revolved around the pub and the people I attracted out of work were like me, using weed to numb the pain. Before I knew it I was getting high before getting to work and rushing home desperate to escape reality and smoke myself into a foggy daze to avoid the fact that my reality sucked.
But I was running away from the real problem - myself. It's amazing how we can be our own worst enemies, isn't it? My self-dislike, lack of confidence, and paralysing fear of revealing my true self kept me trapped in this seemingly never-ending cycle for decades.
Amidst the chaos however, a glimmer of hope emerged. I stumbled upon a career as a sports massage therapist, and it felt like I’d finally found something I was genuinely good at, enjoyed and enabled me to travel the world, surely that would make life more enjoyable, I was wrong!
Eventually I settled in sunnier climes, I set up my own business and became my own boss, something I’d always desired, yet the sense of imposter syndrome just grew stronger. It didn’t seem to matter what I created outside, inside I still felt out of place, lost and unhappy.
Then, the universe gifted me with the most precious of treasures - motherhood. And let me tell you, the old saying that having a baby isn’t going to fix anything is very true, in fact, if anything it will only show you just how broken things really are.
I had always imagined that if and when I became pregnant that I would stop any and all unhealthy behaviours and to begin with I did but it didn’t last long and that is when it started to dawn on me that I was no longer in control of this behaviour, that something stronger than I had taken over.
Over the years I tried many many times to regain control using a host of different methods but none of them provided me with long lasting results… The problem was me and my thinking and until I tackled that head on nothing was going to change.
From the outside, my life seemed pretty okay. I lived on a beautiful Mediterranean island, I had a career where I was helping others live their best lives, a successful business, an active social life and two beautiful daughters. But on the inside, I was dying. I felt lost, insecure, and so ashamed that I was reliant on the substances to hide my pain and feel like I belonged.
The shadows of addiction continued to loom large until eventually I reached a point where I didn't want to be alive anymore. Every morning, I'd wake up with dread, thinking, "Oh hell, not this again." But the sense of responsibility and love I had for my daughters kept me tethered to this world, just.
One day, after yet another failed attempt to regain control over my ‘habit’, I surrendered and mustered the courage to ask my family for help. I needed a reset. I needed rehab, and I needed to confront the demons that had haunted me for so long.
Fast forward to me sitting on that plane, headed for rehab. I almost missed it, thanks to one, or two, last joints. And as we took off the tears began to flow, I knew this was the start of something profoundly different as although I was absolutely petrified I was also absolutely desperate.
Over four intense weeks of therapy, I dug deep and unearthed a person I never knew existed within me - a person who was lovable, forgiving, strong, and resilient. It was like a rebirth, and I emerged from the ashes with a renewed sense of purpose.
So, here we are at the end of my story, a journey that's been a rollercoaster of emotions, a whirlwind of experience, and a testament to the power of vulnerability. I hope my tale resonates with you, inspires you, and reminds you that no matter how deep the abyss, there's always a way back to the light.
I am one of the lucky ones. Every year thousands of people caught in the pain don’t make it, whether it is due to accidental causes or by their own hand, addiction kills.
One way those of us in recovery can make a difference is to speak up, let those still suffering know that they are not alone, that their story is not something to be ashamed of. That there is light at the end of the tunnel and they do have the strength to get there. If you would like to share your story, get in touch here.
Life may be unpredictable, but it's also full of beautiful surprises and second chances so grab on to it and hold tight, you are so very worth it.