My ears were open just enough.

Let me start by saying that if you've made it to this website, I'm proud of you. You've taken the first step. We are so happy that you are here. Even being strangers, we might already have a couple of things in common: Drinking was my absolute crutch, but was also the common denominator to most of my problems. What started as a fun social lubricant quickly morphed into a key component of my daily life. Black-outs became more and more frequent. Even when surrounded by loved ones, I was constantly in a state of mental isolation.

To give a little insight on my background, I grew up in Southern California all my life until moving to Butte County when I was 20 years old. Both of my parents were alcoholics, though the rest of my family on both sides had seemed relatively normal. Growing up an only child in a very chaotic household, I quickly learned to take care of myself the best I could, and also to regularly detach from everything going on around me. I found it difficult to make friends and to connect with others. Thankfully as I grew a bit older, I was able to have solid friendships, and slowly gained a bit more confidence in myself. Preteen and early teenage years are awkward for most of us I believe, and I was no exception. As a troubled kid, I tried to be as different as possible, to try and make my outside reflect my insides. Since other kids didn't understand my choices, I was regularly teased, which solidified my feelings of being an outsider.

Fast forward to High School, I had a group of people who I fit in with, and more freedom than most people my age as my parents struggled to discipline me and had their own addictions they were battling. I began to experiment, and life took off. I felt accepted, popular even. I felt pretty, I got attention from others, My mind was finally quiet, and I wasn't constantly bogged down by my own thoughts, so I quickly turned to habitual oblivion. There are plenty of nights I didn't remember, and many I would rather not recall at all. I believed this was all normal. Friends even back then would tell me to learn to control my drinking, but once I would start, it was increasingly rare that I would have the ability to stop.

While most people might have moved up to Chico to go to school and experience life on their own for the first time, I moved to follow a toxic relationship. I also moved to try and escape my family's addictions and my past mistakes. But I quickly learned that we cannot escape ourselves. Being involved with someone who's alcoholism was further progressed than mine, it was easy to point fingers. It was easy to make excuses for my own behavior, and not take an honest look inward at myself. But even once that relationship ended, my struggles with addiction progressed. After the loss of my father to this disease, I completely let go of all control. I desperately tried to keep things together just enough to not lose everything. Relying on help from family and friends, I always managed to just barely scrape by. I kept a roof over my head, a job, and my needs met just enough to not hit complete desperation.

When I got arrested for my first drunk driving offense, I was devastated and ashamed, for a small time. It didn't take long for me to be right back on the saddle, and within a year I was arrested again for the same charge. I was so comfortable with the chaotic lifestyle, that I did what I had always done: just enough. Enough to get by, get things back to "normal", and not to interfere with my comfort of drinking and drugging. Then, after some time, and to no one's surprise but my own, I was caught again. They say the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results, and that was exactly where I was at.

But this time, thank God, things were different. I had more to lose, the stakes were higher, I knew I needed to change. My ears were open just enough to take advice from others, this is when I finally had the gift of complete desperation. I was a daily vodka drinker, but after the night of my last arrest, I wasn't able to touch hard alcohol. The thought of it made me sick. I am still in awe of that seemingly-otherworldly intervention. I had the willingness to stop running the show, clearly something or someone must have a better ability to do so than I. So, per legal advice, I found myself in the rooms of AA.

I was terrified, uncomfortable, and still weening myself off of alcohol with beer to subdue the shakes I felt were indefinite. I would sit in the back, barely say a word, and when I did, it was incomprehensible over my sobbing. But those tears were crucial to my healing in the beginning, they allowed me to be vulnerable. I found women's meetings, and they were totally welcoming of me. I started to listen to them and take their advice. I felt broken and empty, but slowly, little by little, the pieces started to be put back together. The fog started to lift, and I realized I wasn't put back together exactly the same as I was, and I am so thankful for my new lease on life.

I never thought I would have a place in Alcoholics Anonymous.  Being a young woman, only legally able to drink a few years ago, I had no hope that there were others like me. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I was wrong. The more meetings I attended, the more stories I heard, the more I realized I was far from alone. It was exactly the opposite. I have found a strong fellowship, a family, in Alcoholics Anonymous. I have a sponsor who I can connect with on an intimate and spiritual level. Someone who accepts me just as I am, and shows me the ropes of sobriety. Through The Twelve Steps, I have formed a new relationship with a Higher Power of my own understanding. I have learned that I do not have to carry the weight of the world and my past mistakes on my shoulders. More importantly, I have learned those parts of my life have happened for a reason, and that I can help others through my experience.

At the time of writing this, I have about 16 months of sobriety. I am on a journey of self-discovery, one of love, and of understanding for myself and others. I have begun to heal and strengthen past relationships. I am constantly growing and learning each day. Alcoholics Anonymous has given me a sense of purpose. One day at a time, I piece together this new beautiful sober life that I have been granted. The obsession to use has been lifted, and my sanity has been restored. I have a full life with hope for my future, all thanks to this simple program.

If you're new, or coming back, remember that you don't have to do this alone. We are so glad that you have made it this far, and look forward to connecting with you.