It is hardly surprising that I ended up addicted. My childhood was marked by a number of risk factors: emotional and physical abuse, early losses, a father who probably also had an addiction problem. He would drink sour cider in the morning. My parents made no secret of the fact that, as the third child, I was not wanted.
Whatever need I expressed, they decided it was «not sensible». For example, I would have liked to become a florist, but I had to do an apprenticeship as a cook. They punished me for bad grades with grounding or beatings. They made me feel that I was worthless.
The thought that I had been unable to bear a healthy child tormented me.
I dealt with my worries on my own, even when my first love and later my best friend died in a traffic accident when I was a teenager. Only once, during my apprenticeship, did I pluck up the courage to tell my parents about sexual assault by a superior. Their message was clear: don't make a fuss. The man was an acquaintance of my father's. I was ashamed.
Difficult start as a mother
The pain of old wounds accompanied me into adulthood. I got married and became a mother. During the birth of our son, he did not receive enough oxygen. As a baby, he cried constantly. As a toddler, he was explosive and also had motor problems. The thought that I had not been able to give birth to a healthy child tormented me.
At that time, I started to calm myself down with wine more often. I stopped when I became pregnant with our daughter. After she was born, I was constantly busy settling, comforting and caring for her. I felt lonely and inferior. Other mothers had contented children, but mine were constantly arguing, and the problems didn't stop with the older one. He also had a learning disability and ADHD.
When the children were in primary school, I increasingly numbed my pain with alcohol. I bought wine in cartons, which were easy to dispose of discreetly. I poured it into small plastic bottles and sipped it at home and at work in the staff kitchen. I knew it wasn't good for me, but I pushed the thought aside. I was a master at repression.
Never learned to talk about problems
At some point, my mornings began with tremors, which only wine could relieve. Then they caught on to me at work. My boss reacted sympathetically and wanted to keep me on – as long as I sought help. He urged me to tell my husband. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Neither of us had ever learned to talk about problems. I quit my job. From then on, things went downhill.
To quit, you have to understand deep down that you have to do it for your own sake.
My game of hide-and-seek ended when my husband found me on the sofa at midday, completely numb. Shortly afterwards, I received my first inpatient treatment. The thing is, it's not enough to be told that you have to stop. I was well aware of that. But deep down, I didn't know why I should do it – for my own sake.
After withdrawal, I was abstinent for a while, followed by a second withdrawal two years later. I stayed sober for four years, then it was up and down. My underlying condition, they said, was depression. I took medication, but no therapy aimed to address the cause of my suffering. I grew increasingly resistant to being dependent on pills. The turning point came when I met a psychologist who understood this.
The knot comes undone
A lot has happened since then. I took further training courses on essential oils, in which I dealt intensively with health issues. This also led me to confront my own emotional issues. It was as if a knot had been untied. Today, I advise people on how they can maintain their physical and mental well-being.
Understanding how the two are connected makes me take care of myself. I have stopped taking all medication and rarely drink when visiting others. Otherwise, I have no need for it. Alcohol no longer gives me anything, no support that I couldn't find in other ways. My addiction had clouded my relationship with my children. I am grateful that we have managed to clear things up and feel connected again.
* Name changed
