Silenced by Shame

During my active drinking days I kept my alcoholism to myself. I kept silent for fear of judgment. I worried people would think I was weak, unreliable, or unemployable. On the other hand, there's the dismissive attitude of society. People downplay alcoholism, thinking alcoholics only need help when we’ve lost everything and live on the streets. Alcohol isn’t as threatening or obvious as hard drugs. Most people don't see the constant battle we alcoholics face – the physical cravings, the emotional toll, The mental obsession and the way it slowly destroys our relationships, careers, and health. This invisibility makes it even more difficult for the struggling alcoholic to reach out for help.

The truth is, alcoholism affects people from all walks of life. It’s a silent struggle that most alcoholics try their best to keep hidden. That's why I'm speaking out. It's time to challenge these misconceptions and expose the reality of alcoholism. We need to show how common it is. Awareness is the first step to recovery, and no one should fight this battle alone.

Before getting sober, I didn't see myself as an alcoholic, that is, I wasn’t powerless over alcohol in my mind. I knew my drinking was a problem, but I convinced myself I could stop on my own willpower. Every morning, I'd wake up determined to quit today. But by nightfall, I'd always break that promise. In college heavy drinking seemed almost normal, making it easy to dismiss my behavior as just another night of "fun." But years flew by with this cycle: mornings filled with hope for change, evenings marked by the regret of giving in. My denial ran deep. I refused to believe I needed help like others who went to support groups. I convinced myself I was stronger than the rest.

Even as my health deteriorated I still refused to seek help. My eyes turned yellowish, I suffered a nagging ache just below my right rib where the liver sits, and blackouts became a regular occurrence. Still, it remained my little secret. I resorted to recording myself to piece together nights of lost memories. Phone calls became impossible after a certain hour: the fear of being exposed by the slurring of my words was overwhelming. The "fun" in drinking was long gone, replaced by a straight descent into oblivion. Despite the chaos, my isolated lifestyle and nighttime drinking, alone in my room, masked the severity of my problem. 

The Deeper the Fall the Stronger the Resolve

After college I arrived in California with dreams of an acting career, but my drinking habit followed me. Job losses, and near-misses with drunk driving became my reality. Evening turned into day drinking, until a fateful encounter with officer Current. My BAC was three times the legal limit when officer Current slapped handcuffs around my wrists and took me to the station to get booked for driving under the influence.

The fact that I would need legal representation for my DUI forced me to speak up about my alcoholism. For the first time, I spoke the words "I have a problem with alcohol" – out loud, to another human being as I asked my parents for financial support. It was a powerful moment, a humbling declaration of surrender.

Still, quitting cold-turkey was not an easy road. Finally, After a week of detoxing at home, having survived delirium tremens and barely getting any sleep, I walked into my first AA meeting, depleted and humbled. It was intimidating, but amidst the laughter and kindness, I felt a sense of belonging. The speaker's story resonated deeply, and for the first time, I felt truly understood. I realized I was not insane, and I was not alone. The room were filled with people just like me! I summoned the courage to share my own journey. Finally speaking it aloud brought immense relief, as if the emotional walls I'd built around myself crumbled away, leaving a lightness I hadn't known in years.

Rebuilding Myself, One Step at a Time

Sobriety finally felt attainable. Despite overwhelming fear of exposing my vulnerability, I was ecstatic to reclaim control of my life. The irony is that admitting powerlessness over alcohol is the key to regaining control. However, a new challenge emerged: rediscovering myself without alcohol. Soon, I began to mourn a part of myself, the "drunk me" who was bold, adventurous, and free. This part, though destructive, had become my comfort zone. Suddenly, I felt numb and devoid of confidence.

In retaliation I refused to let go of my adventurous side in sobriety. I tirelessly forced myself outside my comfort zone: large social gatherings, improv classes, public speaking, dancing at clubs, and extreme sports. Relearning how to live without alcohol as a crutch was awkward and difficult. There were mistakes and even relapses, but through trial and error, I learned to identify my triggers and avoid them.

Honesty as a Tool in Recovery

Today, I'm ten years sober, one grateful day at a time. I've learned to navigate challenges and avoid pitfalls. Living a sober life can be tough. AA meetings are my safe haven. It’s a safe space to share struggles, connect with those who understand, and break the cycle of silence. Talking about my cravings and anxieties with others is far more effective than bottling them up. It helps to understand that addiction is a disease, not a moral failing. While I may never be "cured," I can manage it by staying away from that first drink. I surround myself with positive people who support my sobriety and I’ve walked away from relationships that no longer served me. 

Being honest throughout my recovery has been the foundation of my journey. In those early days, it meant admitting my struggles to my family, the fear and vulnerability, raw and exposed. It meant walking into my first AA meeting, a room full of strangers, and sharing my story for the first time. The honesty I found there, the shared experiences and unfaltering support, became a lifeline. 

Breaking the Stigma

Today, honesty extends beyond my own journey. Openly talking about my alcoholism isn't just about self-reflection; it's about planting seeds of hope. Whether it's sharing my story on YouTube, on my blog, or simply answering honestly when someone asks why I don't drink, I do it because you never know who might be silently struggling.

My story isn't unique. Millions battle alcoholism in the shadows, held back by fear and societal stigma. By being truthful about my recovery, I hope to break the cycle of silence and shame. I want to show others that alcoholism is a disease, not a personal failing. And most importantly, I want to show them that there is hope, that there is a path to a life beyond the bottle. Recovery is a journey, not a destination. It's a constant battle, but one that can be won with honesty as our guide. Being truthful with yourself first and foremost. 

For additional good reads about the stigma of addiction also check out Michael Herbert’s Recovery Guide.

Share a little about your story in the comments, I’d love to hear how you’re doing ✨