I became more outgoing, more sociable. I was the life and soul of every gathering. With a drink in hand, I felt unstoppable. But somewhere along the way, something changed.
I didn’t notice it at first. I just needed a little more to feel the same buzz. One or two drinks turned into four or five. The confidence I once felt started to fade, and I found myself chasing that feeling, drink after drink. I became the person who didn’t know when to stop. The one people rolled their eyes at. The one who turned up to breakfast with the leftovers from the night before.
Eventually, I needed a few swigs just to leave the house. My “friend” had become demanding, inserting itself into every part of my life. It wasn’t comforting anymore—it was controlling. It whispered lies, manipulated me, and isolated me from the people I loved. It wanted me all to itself, and it was winning.
I tried to walk away, but it always pulled me back. I’d convince myself I could handle it, only to fall into the same trap again. It was just me and it—an intense, toxic relationship. The more I drank, the more anxious and exhausted I became. My confidence vanished. My world grew darker. I let people down, and in my mind, they were the ones abandoning me. Eventually, we all stopped trying. But deep down, I still cared.
My “friend” and I stopped going out. It preferred to keep me at home, alone. “Why go out?” it would whisper. “You’ve got me.” My anxiety became unbearable. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was grieving, vulnerable, and spiraling. Was this rock bottom? I didn’t like myself. I didn’t care about myself. I shut out the world—except for one person: my daughter. I wasn’t there for her, and I can only imagine how hard that was for her.
Something had to change.
Eventually, I reached out and found Drink Wise Age Well. I was still drinking, but I was beginning to see the truth: this “friend” was toxic. Then came a moment that changed everything. In a group meeting, others shared stories of hospital stays, arrests, being disowned, losing jobs and homes. I told the facilitator, “That’s not me. None of that has happened to me.” She looked at me and said one word that hit me like a brick: “Yet.”
I hadn’t been hospitalized—yet. I hadn’t lost my job—yet. My family hadn’t given up on me—yet. That word haunted me. I knew I had to act. That weekend, I stopped drinking. I didn’t even realize how dangerous it was to stop suddenly. I was still in denial. But I was also determined.
Drink Wise Age Well was a five-year program, and as it neared its end, I knew I needed something more. Someone suggested SASS, now known as Project 6. I didn’t know it then, but it would become my lifeline. Just a few meetings in, COVID hit. Thankfully, I had six months of sobriety under my belt. I threw myself into recovery, attending daily online meetings and activities. I found connection, purpose, and people who understood.
I soaked up everything I could about addiction and recovery. I trained as a facilitator. Slowly, the old me began to re-emerge. When restrictions lifted, I started attending Project 6 in person. I had found my tribe.
That was nearly six years ago. Today, I’m still in recovery, and I work hard at it every day. I’m not afraid to ask for help. I’m rebuilding my life, and best of all, I’ve rebuilt my relationship with my daughter. I’m living my best life now—grateful, grounded, and free from my so-called “friend.”
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