Working, home, drinking, sleeping, working. This is how Daniela B., 57, lived for years. She did not even admit that she was an alcoholic.
It could have gone on forever. Work during the day, drink in the evening. Drink properly, not just a glass of wine. As for years. But then my friend held out the mirror to me. In the most terrible sense possible: he was drunk, hit me, broke my nose and a hand. I hid in the bathroom until my son stood in front of the door with the police and took me with them.
And instead of being desperate and angry, deeply hurt or ashamed, it became clear to me that evening: we’ve crossed a line. I have to pull the ripcord. Yes, my friend is an alcoholic. But I had lived with him because it is convenient not to have to justify yourself to anyone who drinks himself. For having drank for 30 years, unacknowledged. Now I had felt first-hand what drinking from a human can do. And I was afraid I could drift off like him.
“When I drank, the huge mountain of my problems became so small that I could climb above it.”
I think I started drinking from overwork. By the middle of the twenties I, a trained retail merchant, had to take over my parents’ business with agriculture, grocery, guest and slaughterhouse, my father had died. I was married, had two small children, I constantly commuted between my own household and the company and supported my mother. I had to work, be there for others no matter how I felt. It started. I drank to relax, to be able to sleep. Beer, three, four bottles every night.
My marriage suffered, I was divorced at 40, two years later I met another man, married a second time. Everything was going great for five years, but I drank my evening beer anyway. Then my husband died after a long time in which my son and I used to take care of him at home. Again I had to be strong, work. I drank more. Converted to wine, which had more percentages. When I drank, the huge mountain of my problems became so small that I could get over it. At first I did not need a whole bottle of wine for it. At one point there were two bottles a day.
I only got drunk at 5 pm, after work. After the coffee, the wine came. It was like automatically reaching for a place without thinking. If I worked late at 9 o’clock in the shop where I worked now, I had to drink faster, so I could sleep longer in the morning. Working, home, drinking, sleeping, working. If I had a doctor’s appointment or had to do something, I put it so that it fit into this rhythm. In the morning I was fine, I could get up and go to work. It was a habit, I had no tremors, no sweats. Not even when I actually stopped drinking right now.
Alcoholism is a disease!
The man who abused me, I had met two years after the death of my second husband. He did not admit that he was an alcoholic. But I too vehemently denied until the end, to be dependent. That’s why there were always arguments with my children. My daughter had withdrawn completely from me, my son took over the protector role.
After the evening with the police, he brought me to and immediately made an appointment for detoxification. When I came to the clinic, I had not drunk a drop for 14 days. Immediately after detoxification, I was able to start a long-term therapy. Through conversations with my referral therapist, in the group, and out of therapy time, I learned that alcoholism is a disease. I do not have to be ashamed of that, but I have to be honest with it. I will never be able to drink a glass of wine again. And I’ve learned strategies for staying abstinent and coping with my problems, such as writing a diary or engaging in creative things.
“Alone, I would never have done it all, I would certainly relapse.”
At the end of the therapy, everyone had to go home for four days to complete certain tasks. I have celebrated the communion of my granddaughter and quite openly rejected champagne and wine. Everyone congratulated me on my strength. And I went specifically to the liquor department in a supermarket. Luckily, I did not feel any desire. Otherwise I would have had to give up my job. Meanwhile, I have a new apartment and enjoy being able to set everything up the way I like it. My children are always there for me. Thanks to the support of my boss, I changed the branch so I would not run into my ex-boyfriend anymore.
But I could never have done it all, I would certainly have relapsed. The therapy was just the beginning of my journey. And if at some point I come to a crossroads, where it goes left and right direction relapse, symbolically my children will stand there, and I go straight on to the abstinence. This picture supports me.