It’s 1:03 PM, and I feel an overwhelming urge for a drink. Although I don’t often indulge, today is different. I crave it. The emotional pain is just too much to bear. Why? Because I’m grappling with a mental illness, and there are days when my medication feels ineffective. I experience waves of anxiety and sadness, often without explanation, leaving me lost and unsure of how to cope. In these moments, I find myself reaching for a drink—to escape, to quiet the chaos, to numb the hurt.
I’m not proud of this reliance on alcohol. I’m a resilient woman who has weathered countless storms over the last 35 years. I juggle multiple roles: wife, employee, advocate, and mother. Being a part-time drinker isn’t part of my identity, yet here I am. I turn to beer and spirits as a crutch just to get by. My mind often feels like a battlefield, and I struggle with feelings of self-hatred, as many who battle addiction do. Restlessness and discontent follow me relentlessly.
I resort to alcohol to slow everything down. When I drink, I can escape the relentless noise in my head. My bipolar disorder presents immense challenges, and when my prescribed medications aren’t working, I feel desperate for relief. The inner voices—angry, critical, and relentless—tell me I’m not enough, that I’m unlovable, and they urge me toward self-destructive thoughts. These voices are a constant presence, whispering that I’m insignificant and suggesting that I consider the unthinkable. They buzz around me like an incessant mosquito, a reminder of my struggles with addiction, trauma, and depression.
Fortunately, I learned early on how to quiet the noise. Alcohol became my temporary solution, masking the symptoms just long enough for me to function. I’m not alone in this; approximately 9 million Americans face the dual battles of addiction and mental illness. Dr. Clara Thompson, a mental health expert, notes that many individuals with mental health issues turn to substances like alcohol to self-medicate. It’s not just about depression; I find myself drinking in moments of joy, anxiety, or fear, always trying to keep the demons at bay.
It wasn’t until 2019, after losing a family member to addiction, that I recognized the depth of my relationship with alcohol. The family history of addiction runs deep, intertwining with mental illness in my genes. Yet, despite the problems, I’m not ready to give it up just yet. Alcohol has, in some ways, been my lifeline during dark times. I don’t fit the typical profile of an addict—I hold down a job, have no DUIs, and I’m not living in despair. While my moods can trigger drinking, there are also moments of clarity. I know when I’m functioning well, and during those times, the bottle stays closed.
However, I realize that I need to confront this behavior soon. I owe it to my children, my friends, and most importantly, to myself. I can’t let addiction take over my life.
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Summary:
This reflection sheds light on the struggles of using alcohol as a means to cope with mental illness, particularly bipolar disorder. It emphasizes the internal battles faced and the reliance on alcohol for temporary relief, while recognizing the need for change. The author acknowledges the complexity of addiction intertwined with mental health and the urgency to seek a healthier path forward.
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