Becoming an Alcoholic,
For me was not a sudden conscious decision,
But a number of subtle choices, experiences, stumbles and falls.
As a teenager of 13, I was lost.
I didn't kbow where to go, what to do, why I was here, I had no purpose, no meaning, just an emotional pain, an empty void in me that when I had a drink, made the pain go away.
I didn't start to drink heavily, yet,
but I got a taste of that feeling,
of freedom,
of letting go of all the pain.
A suicide attempt, or two later, I was digging a hole, the start of my tangled mess of my history, not knowing how to fix me, or even what was wrong.
I just wanted it all to be over.
I built up walls.
Terrified of someone seeing inside me. Seeing the real me, full of so much pain, finding out who I really was - this fear of who I was, was worthless and nothing. I was broken.
At 15,
when in town with friends drinking, I got separated and had to get a taxi on my own to the friends house that I was staying with.
I was raped in the taxi by the driver.
During it, I had no control over what was happening.
I remember I focused on one thought 'I am going to die'
in the context of 'I'm going to be chopped up and dumped in a ditch'.
I was there, but have no memory of him inside me, I blocked it out.
But a few things stayed, vividly. The feeling of his weight on top of me. His smell. What he was saying to me. If I close my eyes, I can be there again.
After, I remember I did'nt know where we were going. As I was going to a friends, I didn't know the way. I remember fear and panic. The thought 'where are we going', 'what's going to happen next.'
The taxi driver drove me back to my friends, and as I was still really drunk, even helped me to the door. I was so confused and shocked.
The next day, I woke up clean - muzzy headed but clean. Then I remembered, and reality hit me and I felt it in my stomach, what had happened.
I remember being angry. I was so cross the taxi driver hadn't charged me, how dare he?!
I was obviously angry that he had raped me but couldn't confront that reality, too loudly, out in the open in my mind because that would make it real.
I went home. I sat in a ball in the shower and cried. I remember the blood.
I remember sitting in class the next week, in English, randomly, back to 'my life'.
That night was 'in a box' away from my life. But it wasn't, it was part of my reality now.
It hurt so much I couldn't sit properly, I remember sitting with my leg bent at my knee with my foot tucked up beneath me so I was more comfortable.
I felt sick in my stomach with shame and looked at no-one.
I told the friends I was with but that was all.
In the six months that followed,
I drank.
I put myself in horrible places with people I didn't want.
But it was ok, because I said yes. I was in control. I was taking it back.
If the situation was going somewhere I didn't want, out of my control, I didn't say no.
I was afraid if I did, it would happen again.
I was, without realising, adding layers of damage and pain.
Because I was making choices to try to fix a very bad experience the wrong way.
Because I didn't know the right way.
The experience I had, left a mark on me, of fear and vulnerability.
I didn't know how to make it feel better or how to take that away.
Except when I was in that place again, but in control of a choice the taxi driver never gave me.
And when I wasn't in that place, I was scared and vulnerable that it would happen again.
The rape eventually came out, the school, parents knew, the police had to take a statement because of my age. I got tested and councelling.
When I spoke to the police, the woman, Karen, who took the statement, made a reference to me being in the wrong for drinking.
The damage that left, stayed with me.
I will never forget what she said.
To me,
she said if I hadn't been drinking, it wouldn't have happened.
She told me, all my fear, my vulnerability, my shame, my damage was my fault.
But I didn't want it to be real. I wanted to keep it in a box. I wanted to keep the feelings away.
I NEVER talked properly about how it made me feel because it didnt. I always maintained "it happened, I can't change it, no point in dwelling on it."
I kept all the shame and damage inside me. Scared to let it out. I tried so hard to bury it and not confront it. But it was always there.
So I had a drink. I felt relaxed and happy. I wanted more. and more and more. I wanted to make it go away. I didn't want the fear. I wanted to let it go.
For me was not a sudden conscious decision,
But a number of subtle choices, experiences, stumbles and falls.
As a teenager of 13, I was lost.
I didn't kbow where to go, what to do, why I was here, I had no purpose, no meaning, just an emotional pain, an empty void in me that when I had a drink, made the pain go away.
I didn't start to drink heavily, yet,
but I got a taste of that feeling,
of freedom,
of letting go of all the pain.
A suicide attempt, or two later, I was digging a hole, the start of my tangled mess of my history, not knowing how to fix me, or even what was wrong.
I just wanted it all to be over.
I built up walls.
Terrified of someone seeing inside me. Seeing the real me, full of so much pain, finding out who I really was - this fear of who I was, was worthless and nothing. I was broken.
At 15,
when in town with friends drinking, I got separated and had to get a taxi on my own to the friends house that I was staying with.
I was raped in the taxi by the driver.
During it, I had no control over what was happening.
I remember I focused on one thought 'I am going to die'
in the context of 'I'm going to be chopped up and dumped in a ditch'.
I was there, but have no memory of him inside me, I blocked it out.
But a few things stayed, vividly. The feeling of his weight on top of me. His smell. What he was saying to me. If I close my eyes, I can be there again.
After, I remember I did'nt know where we were going. As I was going to a friends, I didn't know the way. I remember fear and panic. The thought 'where are we going', 'what's going to happen next.'
The taxi driver drove me back to my friends, and as I was still really drunk, even helped me to the door. I was so confused and shocked.
The next day, I woke up clean - muzzy headed but clean. Then I remembered, and reality hit me and I felt it in my stomach, what had happened.
I remember being angry. I was so cross the taxi driver hadn't charged me, how dare he?!
I was obviously angry that he had raped me but couldn't confront that reality, too loudly, out in the open in my mind because that would make it real.
I went home. I sat in a ball in the shower and cried. I remember the blood.
I remember sitting in class the next week, in English, randomly, back to 'my life'.
That night was 'in a box' away from my life. But it wasn't, it was part of my reality now.
It hurt so much I couldn't sit properly, I remember sitting with my leg bent at my knee with my foot tucked up beneath me so I was more comfortable.
I felt sick in my stomach with shame and looked at no-one.
I told the friends I was with but that was all.
In the six months that followed,
I drank.
I put myself in horrible places with people I didn't want.
But it was ok, because I said yes. I was in control. I was taking it back.
If the situation was going somewhere I didn't want, out of my control, I didn't say no.
I was afraid if I did, it would happen again.
I was, without realising, adding layers of damage and pain.
Because I was making choices to try to fix a very bad experience the wrong way.
Because I didn't know the right way.
The experience I had, left a mark on me, of fear and vulnerability.
I didn't know how to make it feel better or how to take that away.
Except when I was in that place again, but in control of a choice the taxi driver never gave me.
And when I wasn't in that place, I was scared and vulnerable that it would happen again.
The rape eventually came out, the school, parents knew, the police had to take a statement because of my age. I got tested and councelling.
When I spoke to the police, the woman, Karen, who took the statement, made a reference to me being in the wrong for drinking.
The damage that left, stayed with me.
I will never forget what she said.
To me,
she said if I hadn't been drinking, it wouldn't have happened.
She told me, all my fear, my vulnerability, my shame, my damage was my fault.
But I didn't want it to be real. I wanted to keep it in a box. I wanted to keep the feelings away.
I NEVER talked properly about how it made me feel because it didnt. I always maintained "it happened, I can't change it, no point in dwelling on it."
I kept all the shame and damage inside me. Scared to let it out. I tried so hard to bury it and not confront it. But it was always there.
So I had a drink. I felt relaxed and happy. I wanted more. and more and more. I wanted to make it go away. I didn't want the fear. I wanted to let it go.
Comment