WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER
I was 14 years old when I took my first drink. I remember the day clearly because I fell in love with "the feeling." It was exciting – I was surrounded by people who were a lot older than me, and that night was about me –“Daron's first time.” I felt like a little wind-up doll. I also felt liberated, which is strange because I was already pretty wild and crazy, even without alcohol. Adding alcohol to my system allowed me to turn-it-up a few notches. It was a match made in heaven. I felt free – I felt invisible, and drinking was fun! In the back of my mind, I was thinking – I’m getting older; I’m no longer a kid. I was feeling pressure to tone down my behavior, but at the same time, I wanted to be a free spirit. It was perfect timing because now I could blame my actions on the alcohol.
The "wild child."
During high school, I partied hard, which was not uncommon at the public school where I went. I was also involved in theater, again, I was around much older kids, including my older, high-school boyfriend. I did a good job of hiding my drinking from my parents, and to a degree, it didn't affect my school work or outside activities. I made sure of that. Growing up, my parents talked to me about drinking because "alcoholism runs in our family." Naturally, being the feisty (not yet redhead, I know you're shocked it's not natural) girl that I am, when I’m told I can't do something, I do it. I believed I was super women – I could do anything. Certainly, I won’t let my parents tell me I can't drink because it's in my DNA, which I do believe is true, to an extent. I ran with this and made it part of my identity because I'm Irish and Mexican, and "I can drink anyone under the table." No, a young girl who barely weighs 100 pounds, cannot do this. I began to experience black-outs while drinking. In spite of this, I continued to drink knowing that it was not OK. Sadly, this is "normal" for many teens.
There were lots of crazy nights during high school and somehow I graduated, which I'll skip and fast-forward to college. I left for Los Angeles, and college is where my drinking got even worse. For the first time, I was living on my own. No parents – means I don’t have to hide my drinking. It was exciting, but I was living in Hollywood -- right in the middle of where everything happens, lots of parties and even more alcohol. Somehow, I got through college without getting into any real trouble.
On June 5, 2011, I graduated college. It was the first time my parents saw me drinking and drunk. I started drinkingat 7 A.M., with mimosas before graduation and passing a flask during the ceremony. After that, I headed straight to the bar at the restaurant for my graduation dinner. I was pretty intoxicated, and I wasn't even 21. It was my graduation, and I don't remember much, except sneaking away to take shots at the bar. That night, my parents learned that this was not just a one-time "get drunk because I just graduated" event. That night was also the beginning of a journey because I knew deep inside, I needed help.
My parents – being the amazing human beings they are – immediately jumped in without a second thought. Knowing that I was in trouble, they did what they thought was best for me. You’ll see later that you can’t help anyone who doesn’t yet think there’s a problem, especially a headstrong young woman. My mother and father both had their thoughts on the best way to stop me from drinking. They assumed that I would be turned off by AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) and agreed to send me to a non-traditional outpatient recovery program. I also think it was their way of saying that I didn't have a problem and this was just a phase. Each day for a week, I would report to the outpatient center and meet with a therapist and a clinical doctor who would try to figure out “my problem” and how to fix it. It was such a short time, and by the end of the week, I convinced them that my drinking was just an age-related phase. After a few weeks of being more "mindful" of my drinking, I was back to “drinking to get drunk,” back to blacking out. This destructive pattern continued for a solid year, and with my career in Los Angeles not going as I hoped, I started to spiral downward.
During the summer of 2012, I booked a show in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I would live at home with my parents for a few months. As a condition, my dad told me that I had to stay sober. I protested saying, “it’s going to be my birthday.” My father said,” OK – then just one month until your birthday.” Of course, I took the challenge, I love challenges, and I wanted to prove to my parents and my boyfriend at the time, as well as friends that I was not an alcoholic. If I can stay away from alcohol for an entire month, then, I’m not an alcoholic. And, so I did. But, when I returned to Los Angeles a short time later, I fell back into the same pattern, except this time it was worse.
I started working at a restaurant where my job was to get customers to party and get drunk; you could see how quickly this turned bad given my relationship with alcohol. I was living with my high school boyfriend, who had been with me through all my ups and downs, but our relationship was nearing its end for many reasons, one being because of my drinking. Within a few months, my life was in shambles. I still had a job and tried to give the illusion that everything was OK, but I was a mess. Again, my parents after finding out, quickly and without questions, came to my rescue.
Over the course of several days, my parents and I talked about many things related to my drinking. This time the plan was for me to enter rehab, but not as an outpatient -- it was time to pack my bags and check in. I didn't run from the idea because I wanted to get better -- I was scared, and I didn't resist. At the same time, I was thinking about birthdays, holidays, weddings, and in the future, my wedding without alcohol. I could not imagine this. I was only 22, and the thought of never being able to drink again was scary.
December 10, 2012, my uncle picked me up and drove me to rehab.
I was in rehab for three weeks, and again it was non-traditional. It was a dual diagnosis rehab facility, where they approached recovery from a cognitive behavioral therapy perspective. The first two days, I slept the entire time. When I woke up, I felt drugged. I had been given sleeping pills and then anti-anxiety medicine. Shortly after, I started taking anti-depressants. Because that's how we fix things – it’s about quick fixes for everything. And naturally, someone who has issues with substance abuse believes this would solve everything, right? During my time there, I felt like I was on an expensive vacation or a retreat because I was able to break away from the outside world, and I even got a massage once a week. I also learned a lot. I learned that I did have a problem, but that I didn't have to get sober and stay sober the traditional way. Emotionally, I was going through a lot; not having contact with my boyfriend for the first time since high school was too much to handle.
When the three weeks were up, I was advised to go to a step-down program for a month, where I would live in a house with others and go to an outpatient program during the day. Of course, my parents agreed to whatever the doctors said would give me the highest percentage of staying sober. I had also booked another show, and this program allowed me to leave for rehearsal at night, but when I returned I was given a breathalyzer test, and once a week my urine was tested. During my time at this house, I made amazing connections with people, and I began to see clearly for the first time in my life. I realized what I had done, why I did it, and how it affected everyone around me. I was very happy during this time. I loved being sober; I loved learning about recovery, I loved talking to my housemates about their struggles and helping where ever I could. I was on Cloud 9; how could I not. I lived in a house where I had three cooked meals, group classes during the day, and rehearsals at night. I said to myself, “this is it, sobriety is for me! I will never go back.”
After a month in this house, I was doing great, but I was not yet ready for the “real” world, so I entered yet another step-down program – sober living. A sober living program is where you live in a house with other sober people. This program gave me more freedom, but I still had to go to work and meetings, and there were no more cooked meals. It was here I started going to AA because it was a requirement of the program. Unfortunately, I only had negative thoughts about AA. My uncle attended AA for many years, but what went on in the meetings was a huge secret, and my only other thoughts about AA and the 12-step program were what I had seen in movies. After I went to my first meeting, I no longer had negative opinions. It was freaking awesome. The meetings were outdoors on top of a hill, with people you would never think had "problems," a place where people could talk and share – a community.
It was then I discovered that AA isn’t just for people who wake up every day and start drinking, or individuals who had gotten in trouble with the law because of their drinking. These people were just like me; I knew I had found my home. I wasn't alone. However, there was something about AA that confused me. Every meeting started with: “Hi, my name is Daron, I'm an alcoholic.” Why would I continue to say this if it’s something I don't want to be? Does this mean I'm going to be an alcoholic for the rest of my life, even if I stop drinking? AA states that alcoholism is an incurable disease. Saying this did not sit well with me, but I put my thoughts on the back burner because I enjoyed 85% of each meeting. Besides, some women and men who once had my life, and now are sober, proved that this program does work. They shared how wonderful their lives had become after they became sober and committed to AA.
So I got to work. After one month in the sober living program, I moved out and rented a room in Hollywood, and I was just about to open in a show. My life seemed great; I now felt clean, whole and ready to conquer the world! I continued to go to AA. About four months into my recovery, I decided to reach out to my ex-boyfriend. I needed the closure that I never got before I entered rehab. I felt mentally and physically prepared to talk to him, and so we met and shortly after we started seeing each other again; this was not a good decision, but it happened, and within three months, I started drinking. It was clear that I was going backward in my recovery instead of forward. I believed that because of him, I couldn’t stay sober, so “I’ll move to New York, where all my problems will be solved.” And so I moved (take a look at my first blog New York, I'm Back.)
Eventually, I left New York to come back to California and another low point in my life. I felt completely hopeless and a failure. I did everything, but I couldn't stay sober. I now know it was because deep down inside, I did not want to stop drinking. The times I did stop, it was because I had to, and I still had the battle of not believing I am an alcoholic.
After returning to California, I dabbled in AA, but I was just going through the motions, without any real desire. I was sober off and on for one year. During this time I began teaching yoga, and my life did start to get better – in fact, it saved my life. However, I would still go on binges. But it was OK because I was living a "balanced" life. Finally, it began to hurt inside that my life was a lie – I wasn't practicing what I preached. There was the moment when I knew I could no longer continue drinking. Drinking prevented me from aligning myself with who I am and what I believe in; that hurt me deeply. How could I tell others to live their best quality of life when I wasn't doing it myself? I was no longer an alcoholic trying, again and again, to get sober and stay sober. I was Daron, deciding to remove the one thing from my life that stopped me from being the best version of myself.
August 23, 2015, the last time I drank.
Maybe, this is why I have such conflict with AA and calling myself an alcoholic. It creates a story that you then must live. Because whatever you believe you will achieve. Whether you tell yourself you're right or wrong, over time, it becomes your reality. So, why would I tell myself every day, I'm an alcoholic, and I have an incurable disease? Instead, each day I feed myself with positive thoughts, such as, “I am more than enough; yes, I can and yes, I will.”
I still crave alcohol, and I think about it almost daily, but the life I know I was meant to have is greater than my desire to have a drink. I used to drink to celebrate, to feel better, or to self-medicate. Now, I am present to my feelings -- happy or sad without alcohol; this is a gift. If I hadn't hit the lows in my life because of alcohol, I would not be where I am today. Over the past 13 years, I have learned much about alcohol, addiction, and myself. I know I cannot drink like "everyone" else, and for this I am grateful. I am not an alcoholic -- I just choose not to drink. I choose to wake up each morning and be the best version of myself and that includes not drinking.
Instead, each day I feed myself with positive thoughts, such as, “I am more than enough; yes, I can and yes, I will.”