Sharing is scary (part 2)

But also, sharing is caring, and it helps us heal and grow.

If you haven’t read my last article, ‘Sharing is scary’, I recommend you go back and read that before reading the second half of the story here.

For those of you who did read the previous post, I was discussing how I finally told some close friends of ours about my alcoholism and ten years of sobriety. I’d told them by email to give them time to digest the news before they came to stay with us the following weekend.

For the purposes of this edition of My Secret Sobriety, I’ve given our friends the names Jack and Jill.

Despite my week of internal turmoil since telling them, when they arrived, I actually forgot for a few moments what I’d been worrying about! When I realised I’d forgotten, I also realised how completely normal Jack and Jill were behaving towards me, as if there was nothing different. And let’s face it, there wasn’t anything different, was there? I am still the same person they have come to know and love over the past nine years. I had been worried they might not know how to act or would feel awkward around me. Just another unfounded fear of mine based on my worry that people will treat me differently once they know I’m an alcoholic.

Needless to say, I was relieved. But as the day progressed, I began to feel frustrated that our guests hadn’t brought the subject of my alcoholism up. I had hoped they would acknowledge what I had shared with them. I didn’t share my secret with them just for them to treat it like a secret! My husband thought they were probably keeping quiet out of respect for my privacy and perhaps waiting for me to bring it up. So later as we walked in pairs along the river with our dogs, I broached the subject. I thanked Jill for being so understanding and kind. I was disconcerted that Jill felt she could only discuss the subject in whispers. It very quickly became apparent that my experience with alcohol addiction had hit a nerve. Jill told me that she is ‘quietly jealous’ of people who are teetotal and how amazing it would be to wake up clear-headed every morning, and to not feel ‘controlled’ by alcohol. I took the chance to emphasis how I understood that feeling of being under the control of alcohol and how being sober feels like freedom. It really does! I also mentioned that I used to suffer with crippling anxiety and since I look alcohol out of the equation, my anxiety has no longer held me back in life. It was a short conversation, but I hoped that I had opened the door to further discussion over the weekend.

I was frustrated that the conversation did continue in any way for the rest of the day. A number of times I almost brought it up but didn’t. At bedtime I shared my frustrations with my husband. I was exhausted, upset and angry. I’d allowed myself to be extremely vulnerable by sharing with our friends and I felt that I was getting nothing back. It dawned on me that I had wanted someone to talk to about my addiction and recovery. I hadn’t realised how lonely I was until then.

Despite feeling unable to broach the subject verbally, it was significant that Jack and Jill drank significantly less in our company than they normally would. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words. For the first time since we’ve known them, Jack was the designated driver and drank almost-zero alcohol beer, while Jill limited herself to two glasses of wine before dinner. It was clear (to me) that it was challenging for both Jack and Jill to limit their alcohol intake in this way. I absolutely appreciated that they did this just for me but naturally was concerned that it required so much effort.

Due to my frustration the night before and also wanting to flesh out the story to provide a greater understanding of what we went through together, my husband Mike sat down with Jack and Jill the next morning and told them what I couldn’t bring myself to. He told them how severe, horrific and traumatic my alcohol addiction was. That I was drinking vodka 24 hours of the day and how neither of us knew if I would ever recover. He also told them that had I not already been in hospital when I had an alcohol-withdrawal induced seizure, that I could quite easily have died. Mike wanted to impress upon them how serious my addiction was, and how far I had come in the past ten years since.

I am so grateful to Mike for doing this. It opened the door for the further conversation I had been craving. Mike said he felt frustrated when the conversation kept turning to Jack and Jill’s relationship with alcohol. He wanted them to listen first. Making them listen was invaluable as it gave me the opportunity to address the fact that Jill in particular kept returning to her personal problems with alcohol. She spoke of her awareness that she used alcohol to ease her anxiety while knowing that it would exacerbate the problem in the long term. She acknowledged that drinking made Jack feel depressed. I explained that alcohol addiction can range from mild to moderate to severe and can look very different depending on each individual’s use. That people don’t need to drink like I did to have a problem. That the woman who only drinks for 1 hour of the day but spends the remaining 23 hours of the day obsessing over that one hour when she can have a drink, has a serious problem with alcohol. I described it as sliding scale or spectrum of addiction and that addiction or dependance can sit anywhere on the scale or spectrum. Jill firmly stated that she felt that she sat on that spectrum. This came as no surprise to either me or her husband, Jack. Jill said that she thought alcoholics were people who drank in the morning, that people who didn’t drink in the morning or around the clock weren’t alcoholics. This made me realise how many misconceptions are held about alcoholism and addiction. I also thought, cynically, that this was a conveniently held belief for a binge drinker and a blackout drinker who doesn’t want to admit how serious their problem is. Jill repeated the sentiment that she and Jack are ‘quietly jealous’ of teetotalers and said that she aspired to the freedom I had found in sobriety.

I was impressed with Jill’s honesty when she said firmly that she sits somewhere on the scale of alcohol dependance. It wasn’t a surprising fact, but it was a surprise to hear her admit it out loud and with such conviction. I didn’t set out to share my story of alcoholism in order to encourage Jill to look at her own problem drinking. Maybe I am being optimistic, but I feel that sharing my story was the impetus Jill had been waiting for to talk openly about her own problems with alcohol. Just imagine, now that Jill can see that having a serious drinking problem is nothing to be ashamed of and is something that can be overcome, just imagine where that could lead! I don’t know if Jill will ever stop drinking, but I hope that I have planted the seed of change.

Personally, I feel lighter, and freer for sharing my story with the people we are closest to. I feel positive that it was the right choice. I know that Jill or Jack now have someone they can talk to about their problems with alcohol if that ever want to. Knowing that I have got their back that way makes me feel good. I feel that I am helping in my own small way. I also feel (even) less ashamed because of Jack and Jill’s complete lack of judgement of my alcoholism. It’s inspiring when people accept your addiction without displaying even the smallest shred of prejudice. It gives me hope that the stigma attached to alcoholism and addiction is abating.

Sharing my story and owning it without shame allowed me to continue to grow and heal as I carry on shedding my secret sobriety. But the most important lesson I learnt from this experience is that sharing is scary, but more importantly, sharing is caring, and you just never know who you may inspire. There are so many people out there desperate to hear stories of hope and recovery. In active addiction it’s almost impossible to believe it, but we do recover!

Thank you to Mike for continuing to love and support me through my recovery journey, thank you to Jack and Jill for loving me just as I am, and thank you to all of you reading these words. I hope that you find strength from my experiences and my story. My hope is that these blogs of mine can reach those who need to hear that recovery is possible, because it is.

Thank you for reading My Secret Sobriety. Kate xox