Back to home page Back to other stories   JAN   Hi, my name is Jan, and I'm an alcoholic. I experienced my first real drinking when I was eighteen and went into nurses' training in a large city away from my home state, where it was legal to drink at eighteen. Prior to this, I only had sips of my father's New Year's drinks. I grew up during the depression, and my father didn't indulge in alcohol. My mother didn't drink at all until her later years, when she would have a social highball, as my husband would encourage her to join us for a drink. Nurses' training was sometimes stressful, and the other girls and I would occasionally overindulge in alcohol. It was rare and unimportant.   While in training, I met my husband, Russ, on a blind date. He came from an alcoholic family. His father was very addicted, while his mother was only an occasional drinker. His father died at the age of fifty from alcoholism. We were married three years after we met. We did a lot of social drinking, and I became pregnant with my son after a wild party. My son was conceived while I was intoxicated, and sometimes I think that is why he is a recovering alcoholic. I am grateful that he is in recovery. I have two daughters, and both have only a rare occasional drink.   Until the children were in their teens, I didn't drink heavily. I felt that it was my responsibility to care for the children and do "mon things." I wanted to be the family's sustaining force. Although my husband drank, he was never abusive or neglectful, but he would holler unduly at the kids, when he was upset about minor things. I would feel sad for the kids and counter it by "being their security." I began to drink heavily when we had a lot of free time which was not filled with business or work, the kids, or people "dropping in." We had a bar built into the family room of the apartment. When someone "dropped in," even during the day, the first words out of my husband's mouth would be, "Come on in and have a drink!" To be sociable, I would join in the drinking.   We eventually bought our own home. Things improved, and my drinking was not quite as heavy. I had gone back to work to help with expenses for my son's college and to buy things for the house. As the kids got older and the responsibilities weren't as demanding, we went out socially more often, and then my drinking started to become heavy again. I think that I drank as much, if not more, to be a part of my husband's life as I did to get drunk. I loved him very much, and I wanted to be with him and please him. Our doctor recommended to both of us that we cut down on our drinking. We would always agree to do this, but I would cut down more than Russ. He really didn't want to stop. It was a life that he loved, and he was always able to function in the work that he did. Although Russ drank heavily, he drove responsibly. He always seemed to be able to handle it. One time when we were picking up the car from being repaired, and I had to drive the second car home, Russ screamed at me, that I had weaved all over the road. I said, "Not me," but I knew that I had. That was the only time that I got behind the wheel of the car when I had been drinking. It frightened me. I felt that I should cut back and not drink so much.   Russ became ill with cancer of the throat. Although it was never attributed to smoking or drinking, I'm sure that they were contributing factors. When he initially became ill, my mother-in law, who had moved in with us, wanted to make the funeral arrangements immediately. Russ had radiation treatments and chemotherapy. This went on for six months. In December, the doctor had said that he was doing well, and that he should enjoy the rest of the year before coming back to see him. Two days later, during a coughing spell, he had an esophageal hemorrhage and died in my arms. It was very traumatic and painful. I felt that I had lost my reason for living. Russ's mother didn't take his loss the way that I felt she should. Perhaps it was because she had lost her husband in a similar manner. She gave me no emotional support. After his death, I couldn't find any reason to "go on." I had three children, all married, and two grandchildren, three and six months old, but they didn't seem very important to me anymore. My drinking became worse.   I was working as a nurse, and about a month after my husband died, a new supervisor took over. I would drink very heavily at night, until I would fall into bed in a stupor. I was able to get to work and did not drink before I went to work, but the smell of alcohol would still be on me from the night before. Although this had gone on previously, it was never mentioned, nor was I accused of being drunk on the job. After about two months, the new supervisor called me into her office to discuss my drinking. She said that she felt that I had a serious problem, needed help, and had better get it, or I would not have a job. She sent me home then and there - ten o'clock in the morning - to do something for myself. I was devastated and thought that she had a lot of nerve to say these things to me. I went home, called my son, and told him what happened. He said, "I will be over in a little while, and we will call the doctor, and take care of this." It amazes me, as I think about this now, because my son subsequently became an alcoholic, and I had many calls to the hospital, because Tim would be ill and dying from drinking. I am glad that I became sober and was able to help him. He was there when I needed him, and I have been able to be there for him. My girls rallied around and were thankful that I was getting help, as they had been very worried about me. They voiced concern, saying they loved me and wanted me around for awhile.   I went into a detox and twenty-eight day program at a hospital. I met some very wonderful people, including my eighteen year old roommate, and we became very close, because we were all there for the same reason. I have lost track of my roommate, and it makes me sad, as I wonder what became of her. My close friends knew where I was and why I was there. They rallied around and expressed hope that I would get my life together, because they cared about me. This all helped me to get sober for myself and them. My work supervisor came to the hospital and met with the counselor and me. She said that I would be able to come back to work.   When I came out of treatment, I was given a few weeks off work. Then, feeling very nervous, I went back. It was like being under a microscope all the time. My supervisor had hired another nurse, a friend of hers, that she wanted to bring "on board." This woman seemed to have taken over what had been my position. I was relegated to being more like a nurse's aide than a nurse. I felt as if I were on probation. I understood that I needed to prove myself, but it was very uncomfortable. After a couple of months of trying to overcome this feeling of non-acceptance of my full worth, I discussed it with my supervisor, and I decided to leave. I put in many applications but never received a call. I'm not sure if the supervisor sabotaged my recommendations. I don't want to believe that she played any part in my difficult job search. In the three or four months that I was out of work, I thoroughly cleaned my home. I immersed myself in cabinet and closet cleaning. I had neglected these things for many years. It was good therapy for me. I attended many AA meetings during this time and got to know lots of good AA program people. I had time to spend with my grandchildren and got to know them better. Previously, I had not been allowed to babysit with them, because my kids didn't know if I would be sober when they returned home. Now I could babysit. I even was allowed to take my four year old granddaughter on vacation with me. Having their confidence really pleased me and boosted my self confidence. It was a wonderful trip. Finally, I applied to the state and worked in a state hospital for nine years. It was a good, worthwhile, position. I have received many benefits from that job. I believe that was where I was supposed to be. When I started to work again, I felt worthwhile for the first time in a long, long time. I was functioning in a sober, sane manner.   I now have another grandson, and we are very close. My other two grandchildren are older now and busy with their lives and friends. I am still a part of their lives, but not as much as when they were younger and I became sober. It is wonderful to share my life with my children and grandchildren. I know that I have been given a second chance at life. I sometimes feel that Russ's death is the reason for this, and I don't want to mess it up. I enjoy phoning my kids and spending time with them. My son has now been sober for four years. He is getting his life together although there have been some strained relations between us. I think that he blamed his father and me for his alcoholism. The relationship is a little bit better today. When he calls me on the phone, we have nice conversations. It has taken a long time, and I have had to be patient. When drinking, I had rushed into things without thinking, so this is good for me, because now I take time. I am grateful for this gift of time. Thanks.