Not Broken: Finding Healing in Sobriety

There was a time when I looked like I had it all together. A beautiful home. A loving family. A full calendar. I was the mom who showed up, the wife who hosted dinner parties, the woman with the perfect smile. But behind all of that was someone silently drowning. I didn’t always recognize my anxiety and depression for what they were. I just knew I needed something to quiet the chaos in my mind, the pain I didn’t know how to process, the trauma I hadn’t healed. For me, alcohol became that “something.” It started as a glass of wine to unwind, but over the years, it became my way of surviving. The turning point came on October 4, 2015. I woke up in the guest room of our home after a night of drinking. I had been arrested for a DUI the night before. The shame hit me like a tidal wave. I ran to the bathroom and threw up from the hangover, the anxiety, the fear. I was mortified, terrified that someone would hear. I walked out like nothing had happened, but inside, I was shattered. That wasn’t the first time I’d tried to get sober. I had been to a few Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings a year earlier, but I didn’t fully believe I had a problem. I was “high-functioning.” I showed up for work. I exercised. I was involved in my kids’ lives. How could I be an alcoholic? I wasn’t drinking from a brown paper bag; I was drinking Chardonnay from crystal stemware. But on that morning in October, there were no more excuses. No more denial. Just a quiet knowing: This has to stop. I sat my husband down and told him the truth. I said the words I was most afraid to say: “I’m an alcoholic, and I need help.” To my surprise, he didn’t look at me with judgment. He looked at me with love. He said, “We’ll get through this.” And for the first time in years, I felt seen. That same day, I returned to AA. I walked into the meeting still trembling from the night before, still sick, still terrified. I actually threw up in the bathroom before the meeting started. I was humiliated. But I showed up. And I kept showing up. I committed to 90 meetings in 90 days. I got a sponsor. I worked the steps. I surrendered to the process, even when I didn’t feel ready. And somewhere along the way, I started to heal. I want to be clear about something: detoxing from alcohol can be dangerous, even fatal. My story does not involve medical detox, but that’s not true for everyone. If you’re thinking of quitting alcohol and you’ve been drinking heavily or daily, please talk to a doctor. Do not do it alone. There is no shame in needing medical support, only wisdom. Recovery wasn’t just about removing the alcohol. It was about rebuilding my life. It was about looking at the little girl inside me who was hurt, abandoned, and silenced, and choosing to love her instead of shaming her. --- Support, Relief & Insight --- I began crafting a sobriety toolbox. My mornings started with: meditation journaling prayer. I found self-care rituals that grounded me: walks in nature inspirational reading healthy meals naps without guilt surround myself with people who support my healing I changed the environments, relationships, and routines that no longer aligned with the life I wanted to build. Forgiveness played a huge role. Forgiving others, yes, but also forgiving myself. For the mother I wasn’t, for the pain I caused, for the woman I became when I was trying to numb what I didn’t know how to feel. And slowly, I started to come back to myself. Through the 12 steps, I found spiritual connection, not religion, but something deeper. A sense that I wasn’t alone. That I was being guided. That my pain had purpose. - by Marci Hopkins