Back to home page Back to other stories   VICKY   Hi, I'm Vicky, and I'm an alcoholic. I'm telling my story, as I know it today, for the purpose of perhaps helping someone. I was born in a very small town in the Midwest. I have very little memory of my childhood. What I do have is sketchy or vague. My first memories are of being abused by my stepmother. These are followed with glimpses of abuse by my grandfather, an uncle, and a babysitter. Although I know that I did go to school, I don't recall attending kindergarten through seventh grade. It is painful to talk about what I can't remember. I know that I have always felt very different, as if I didn't fit in anywhere or wasn't like anyone else. I didn't know why. In my teens, I do recall moving to a bigger city, but I don't remember the house. I've since gone back to this house to try to trigger my memory but have had no luck. I ran away a few times in my teens, but can't recall where I went, who I was with, or how long I was gone.   I know that I was involved with the court system and juvenile detention center several times. Due to the running away and school truancy, I was told that I was incorrigible, insubordinate, and out of control. They called me a bad seed. I was sent away and locked up. I was incarcerated for fourteen months one time and don't remember where I was sent when I was released. I know that I was only out for about six months when I was arrested for violating parole and sent back. Two girls and I then ran away from the state institution. We locked up a housemother and nurse to escape. When we were caught, we were tried as adults. Some of the allegations were false, but we were found guilty and sent back. I was put in the "hole" for a month. It was an eight by ten room with only a mattress and one window, too high up the wall to look out through. I was given nothing to do or even read for the thirty days. After this, I was returned to the general prison population until shortly after my eighteenth birthday, when I was released. I went to live with my mother and new stepfather. Again, I got in trouble for being with the wrong people at the wrong time. It seemed that I was always involved with the wrong crowd and did things that I should not be doing. I was in the car when some "friends" robbed a place. I was arrested and served more time in jail. This time, when I was released, I went to live with my dad and stepmother.   About four or five months later, I was married. My first marriage was about escaping from my father and stepmother. My husband was to be the knight on a white horse, who would take me away from "home." It was a mistake and there was no real relationship. We were separated more than we were together. The only part of the marriage that I don't regret was the daughter I had. I dragged her from "pillar to post." I was never satisfied anywhere or with anything. The feeling that there was something wrong with me prevailed, and I felt that it was the reason that all the bad things happened. Finally, I decided that it was the marriage, and I got out of it.   I was divorced in May and married again in June. My first husband was passive, lived his own life, and was not home. In the second marriage my husband was violent and extremely possessive. I went from one extreme to another. I was fearful throughout this marriage, but I always believed that it would change. I thought that all the problems were my fault because I was always blamed. One night we got into a fight, he left the house, and I went next door to a friend's house. He was killed that night in a car accident. I felt guilt over his death and was convinced that it was my fault. Due to the marriage's violence and unpredictability, I had fantasized about going to his funeral. I understand today that the fantasy had been like a pressure release valve. At the time, I talked to many people who tried to convince me that I did not have the power over life and death. I still held on to the guilt.   Then, for the first time in my life, I was not "under someone's thumb." First I had been under the control of my parents, then locked up, parents again, and finally two husbands. I was alone with a small child. I didn't even know how to pay a bill. I felt that I needed to do something. Hair dressing and interior decorating came to mind. I chose to put myself through beauty school. I was influenced in this decision by remembering one childhood neighbor, who had been kind to me and had told me that my hair was pretty. After beauty school, I found that I didn't like doing hair. Clients were scheduled in a manner that caused time pressure. The pressure surfaced memories of my stepmother, who had timed tasks and meted stiff punishments for not completing them on time.   I spent a period of five years single. This is when the really bad drinking started. I had been drinking since the age of thirteen. Now, I had no control, no one controlled me, and I couldn't control myself. I had no structure to my life and shifted with the wind. When I drank, it made me feel good, and I could be anything. Other people's opinion of me made no difference. Drinking was my number one coping mechanism for life. I partied and had fun. Sober, I couldn't relax enough to have fun.   My drinking became a nightmare. I lost time and had blackouts, major blackouts. I would go out for a couple of drinks and the next day find myself somewhere without knowing how I got there. People would tell me that I said or did things which I knew were totally out of character for me. I had problems with relationships, which included poor choices and verbally fighting with people. I carried alcohol with me everywhere, in my purse and car. I tried to change from one brand of alcohol to another or drink only at specific times, but nothing worked. I knew that I was putting my child's life in danger as well as my own. When I thought about this, I would become more fearful and drink more. Several people told me that I had a problem with alcohol and should get help. At first I didn't believe what they said. I thought that they were jealous because they could not drink like I could. One night I drank for hours and could not get the feeling that I wanted. I wasn't sober and seemed caught in limbo. I wanted to throw the bottle through the window, but I needed it. A friend brought the newspaper to me and showed me the number for AA. One of us called. Before the AA person arrived, I want to the store for another bottle.   The AA person knew that I was not ready and just left literature, which I probably threw away. I don't know how much time passed before I called again and asked for help. I told them that I really wanted help.   Someone from AA came to my house and talked to me. She asked me to go to a meeting. I was drunk when she arrived, and her pressure caused me to agree to go that night. I went to the AA meeting with a bottle in my purse in case I would change my mind. I couldn't tell you what went on that night, but something must have stuck. When I went home, even though there was alcohol in the house, I told myself that I was not going to drink. I paced the floor all night. I felt terrified, alone, and scared. I would say to myself, "Five minutes, five minutes more, I won't drink for five minutes." I finally crawled into bed at six a.m. At eight a.m. the woman, who had taken me to the meeting, called and asked me to go to a meeting that morning. I said, "No! I can't. I'm sick." I was shaking and told her that I hadn't slept. She said, "No one ever died from lack of sleep!" I thought, "You fucking bitch!" She would not take no for an answer and came to get me. I was so vulnerable and weak that I could not argue, and I went with her. I remember the meeting that morning. I was sick, and yet, I saw people sitting around with coffee and donuts as if they did not have a care in the world. I thought that I was in the wrong place. My picture of AA had been similar to a mission line, derelicts. I remember that there were nice cars outside, and the people were dressed well. They were not street people. I was shaking from head to toe, confused, and sick. I wanted to die. I sat and listened the best that I could. People talked about things that I had previously never heard spoken of. I decided to give it a try and keep coming back. For the first six months, I had anxiety attacks during the meetings and wanted to run out of the room. Today, I know that I was being triggered by things that I could not remember or could not face. I didn't know how to handle it, but I kept coming back. I asked someone how many meetings I should make, and they replied, "How often did you drink?" I laughed and felt that I should move in. I went to five meetings a week, which often included two a day. My mind began to clear, I stopped shaking, and I began to feel half-human. At meetings I would be calmer, but I couldn't talk. When an "old timer" at a meeting discussed people who didn't talk at meetings, he said that they would get drunk, and I became furious and screamed at him. He sat there calmly and finally said, "Got you to talk didn't I?" When I started AA they did not baby or pamper you. I had two sponsors who were very rough with me, and I thank them today. I became very involved in AA.   I then learned a lesson that has been instrumental in keeping me sober these last eighteen years. After about a year of sobriety, I became involved with someone on the program. I had been warned against doing this. The danger is that people are at different levels of recovery. I was very hurt by this man and relapsed. I learned that I had to live my life according to my principles, in a way that is comfortable for me. I had to establish boundaries. Finally, to recover, I went into the hospital for six weeks. I'm still angry about this hospitalization because it wasn't a rehabilitation program. I was drugged for the entire time. I received no help, but fortunately the knowledge that I had of the AA program helped me to know that I didn't need drugs. I knew that I had to go back to the program and pick up where I left off. That's what I did. I became heavily involved in the AA program and helped start an AA club. I worked hard at the club and had good times.   About this time, I began to look at my childhood to find why I could not remember much. I was thoroughly convinced that my drinking had fried my brain. That belief stayed with me for the next fifteen years. I didn't know about repression or repressed memories. Then, talk show programs made me aware of childhood incest survivors. They spoke of help and healing, and I wanted healing. So, after fifteen years of sobriety, I embarked on my own "intelligent journey" for incest recovery. I read everything that I could get my hands on about survivors and recovery. I worked to bring back memories. I used this intellectual approach for a year and a half and then heard about an SIA, Survivors of Incest Anonymous, meeting in my area. I started to go. Since my memories were scarce, I still had trouble understanding myself. I attended meetings and began journaling my dreams. I learned that the bizarre dreams were memories surfacing. When awake, I am not always able to totally accept what my dreams reveal. Sometimes the dreams are literal, and sometimes they are figurative, difficult to interpret and understand. My father, stepfather, grandfather, and other family members have appeared in my dreams as perpetrators. They also reveal childhood prostitution and child pornography. I feel very stable for someone who has been through so much, and I wonder sometimes how I have made it. The SIA topics and discussions are even deeper than in AA, and they are helping me to heal. It is sometimes hard for me to talk at meetings, because my denial and repressed memories are an interference. I now work with a therapist who is very good at dealing with incest issues.   In SIA I have met incredible people who are also helping me. I am slowly learning to trust myself and others. It is such a positive program. I thought that I would be able to heal quickly, but that is not the case, and I have been in SIA for two and a half years. Thirty or forty years of repressed memories from the repeated abuse takes time to emerge, heal, and understand I have learned a lot of the positive things about myself, as well as learning to deal with the negative qualtities caused by the abuse. It is difficult for me to be vulnerable to anyone for any reason, and yet, I have the need to be. At times I feel lost, as if somewhere back in time, I was blown into a million pieces and have been operating on only a few of these since then. I am looking for the rest of my pieces. In SIA I am learning to accept the puzzle pieces. I accept others more quickly than I do myself. Trained distrust of myself is hard to overcome. I am learning to just be and not keep any part of myself at bay. I work with others, and it is hard to see their pain. We both learn by going through the experiences. I want to be everything that I can be. I know that I can't be too bad, or I would not have made it this far. I have bad days and good days. That is where I am today.   I know that alcoholism is the symptom of an underlying illness and not the illness. I have found what my illness is. Recovery may be a life-long process. I am grateful to have people that understand and are there for me when I cannot feel it for myself. I sometimes hang on for them. Whether it is AA or SIA, I marvel at all people who come together in great pain and have such compassion for each other. I know that there is a lot that I have forgotten to say, but I think that this is it for now. Thanks.