Six months sober: "Why my mental health had to come first"
Michelle* shares her brutally honest story about how her mental health deteriorated so much when she was drinking that she knew she needed to make a choice to save herself.
I’m one of those people who can’t sleep in past 6:00 am, even on weekends. It can be annoying, but secretly I love my smug Sunday morning routine of tidying, laundry, and running down to the beach where I’ll take photos and linger by the shore, soaking in the morning light while the sun’s rays are still gentle and glowing.
It wasn’t always this way …
6:00 am - SIX MONTHS BEFORE
It’s 6:00 am on a Sunday morning six months earlier- I’m wide awake now too. In fact, I haven’t slept more than three hours over the past two nights. My sheets are damp with sweat and my heart is pounding in spite of my exhaustion. It’s a sensation I’ve come to know well over the past few months.
The shafts of morning sunlight across my bedroom bring with them the unbearable, undeniable, memories of what happened last night.
I turn towards the wall and try to bury myself into the corner, but the shadows are growing thinner and soon there’ll be nowhere left to hide.
9:00 am
Collapsed on the couch with a plastic container of Thai takeaway growing unappetisingly cold and congealed in front of me (one bite was all it took for my stomach to violently rebel), I weigh up my options. Sobriety is not a serious contender. Put simply, to continue feeling the way I feel, and thinking the thoughts I’m thinking, is not something I can bear nor accept. So, that rules sobriety out.
Experience has taught me that alcohol is the most effective and reliable cure for a depressive episode- in the short term. But it’s a Sunday. I try, with varying success, not to get drunk when I have work the next day. And I know if I start drinking today I won’t stop easily. That leaves the obvious choice- obvious for me- the half gram of cocaine I have stashed in my jewellery drawer. The fact that I’m currently suffering a cocaine comedown is little deterrent. Instead, I breathe a sigh of relief and draw the curtains.
11:00 am
I step outside my apartment and immediately know something’s wrong. The coke effectively killed my hangover, but there’s been something funny going on with my thinking. The thoughts I’ve been having are…strange. Disturbing. Is it normal to have horrifying scenes playing on a loop in your mind while you do the dishes? Do other people lie on the couch and cry hysterically thinking about such things?
And now there’s music playing- but only when I move. It’s maddening. I begin walking and hear the distinct sound of music coming from unseen speakers in the distance. I stop walking to better hear the tune. The music stops.
Walking is made even more difficult by waves of dizziness that come without warning, and I almost stumble into a woman as she passes me. Shit.
The day is simultaneously hot and overcast, and as I squint into the bright white sky I desperately regret leaving the house. A split-second decision is made, and I make a sharp right turn off route from the grocery store toward the nearest LiquorLand.
I’ll think that’s where I’ll leave things. Because if there was a highlight reel of the afternoon, then drunken self- harm, hysterical phone calls to friends, suicidal thoughts, stitches, and involuntary hospitalisation– all before 6pm! - would probably make the cut.
It might surprise you to hear that I don’t identify as an alcoholic- though I’ve come to learn that word can mean different things to different people. But for the past six months, give or take a few exceptions, I’ve tried my best not to drink alcohol because I recognise that doing so is just too dangerous for me.
My mental health is drastically exacerbated by the effects of alcohol (as well as drugs). This might mean feeling low to the point of having suicidal thoughts when I’m hungover and has even presented as psychosis after an extended period of drinking.
It’s disingenuous to promise that life gets better when you give up or reduce drinking. I know that for a lot of months I actually felt resentful about the decision, as my mental health didn’t improve a lot straight away in spite of giving up my favourite coping mechanism. But I do know life is simpler now, and calmer.
I hadn’t even realised how impossibly hard I’d been making the task of taking care of myself back when I was drinking- and I blamed myself for not being able to handle that mix of toxins wreaking havoc on my brain chemistry.
For me, sobriety has been a mixed bag- for every sunrise and early morning jog there’ll be a shitty party where you’re yawning at 9:00pm and feeling like the most boring person in the room. But I feel day by day I’m gaining a little more control of myself back, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Michelle (*not her real name) is a member of the Untoxicated FB closed support group, check it out: https://www.facebook.com/groups/untoxicatedaus and check out other resources that might help you here: https://untoxicated.com.au/need-help. It is advised you seek medical advice before quitting alcohol.