Member-only story
My Name is Bobbie and I’m an Alcoholic
I remember the first time I said that out loud. My voice was shaking, and the chair had just asked if anyone had any birthdays. I was one month sober. Four weeks. I had about ten meetings under my belt, but I had never spoken a word. People were friendly to me. They gave me space because that was what I wanted. I wasn’t sitting there crying anymore, like at the first few meetings I attended. I spoke the words out loud for the first time.
If you are familiar with the steps of AA — step one is admitting you are powerless over alcohol, that our lives had become unmanageable. There’s a lot of controversy over giving up power, with stating that you are powerless, especially women, in a time where we are fighting for power in every aspect of our lives. Empowering is the buzzword, so powerless would seem to be the antithesis. I had issues with this. I’m Bobbie. I can do it all, be anyone I want; no one can control what I do. No one is going to tell me I’m powerless. Except for alcohol. At that point in my life, alcohol was running and ruining every aspect of my life.
Our vacations? Alcohol infused. Weekends? Where’s the wine? Kids’ birthday parties? Adult drinks are in the garage. And on and on until I crossed that line into the abyss where alcohol and oxygen were both needed to function. Everywhere I went, everyone I was with, every ad I saw was just another nudge reinforcing the need for more alcohol. I came to that point where I was powerless over alcohol once I took that first drink. There’s some science to it, I won’t bore you with that, but once I took that first drink, my body and my brain wanted more. Not just wanted. Needed.
Everywhere you look, there is advertising and memes and t-shirts encouraging drinking. Mommy wine lunches are the norm, not the exception. Alcohol use disorder is on the rise, especially among women. I would think that aiming the ads towards women would be a big reason for the increase. Since 2007, alcohol-related deaths in women increased by 85%. I came frighteningly close to adding to that statistic.
I never wanted to say those words. I never wanted to say it out loud. That would make it so. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to drink like everyone else. And, let’s face it, alcohol made me funnier, prettier, smarter and I could dance better. Not…
