In understanding the theory of nature versus nurture, one must believe that you inherit your environment just as much as your genes.
My father was an active alcoholic throughout my entire early childhood. While I do not remember most of the years he spent consuming cases of Budweiser in a matter of hours, I do have memories of the way in which he drunkenly "nurtured" me. He would come into my bedroom, place his beer bottle on my nightstand and kiss my forehead as he tucked me in, smelling of alcohol. This was my normal. I associated the nurturing love I received with the presence of alcohol.
This nurturing danced devilishly with my nature. As the daughter of an alcoholic, I always knew a genetic predisposition existed. I believed, with every fiber of my being, that I could defy those odds. I thought that if I did not want to be an "addict," I wouldn't be. I thought that I'd know when to stop at parties. I thought I'd know not to go home drunk with the wrong guy. I thought I'd know not to drive drunk with people I loved in my car, let alone with other individuals on the road. However, addiction taught me that everything I thought I knew, I really didn't.
At nine years old, I watched my father enter the taxi waiting to take him to rehab after his final drunken rage. I watched my mother fall to her knees as she held the sledgehammer responsible for the complete destruction of the home she had built. I watched my mother step over splintered furniture, shattered photo frames and unhinged doors as she packed bags to remove my brother and I from the aftermath of our father's disease. However, alcoholism is a team sport and we were all playing now. My father's sobriety was only the beginning of my struggle.
At fourteen years old, I began my experimentation. I'd steal liquor from my home and go to the nearby nature preserve with my best friend. We'd take turns sipping whatever we could get that weekend, chasing it with Vitamin Water. It was sad really, my first buzz being in broad daylight at fourteen. However, the way in which I was nurtured normalized the behavior. And the nature of my person explained the struggle I faced with alcohol abuse in the years to come.
At eighteen years old, I moved into the dorms at Hofstra University. My first night at school, I was invited to a mixer with an off-campus sorority who would soon become my first college friends. The girls became a pretty stable part of my every week. I'd told myself I'd never go out during the week, however the bar on Tuesdays and mixers on Thursdays became a constant. I was offered a bid to join the sorority which I accepted but soon revoked after being subjected to inhumane hazing.
My decision to leave the sorority did not keep me from drinking almost four times a week. I became a pro at using a fake license to purchase alcohol at a nearby liquor store. My life became predictable: I would stumble to the nearby bar after a pregame with my friends and end up carried home by a new guy each time. I could judge how the night went based on who was in my bed the next morning and if I could detect the lingering taste of vomit.
At nineteen years old, I hosted a Fourth of July party. At 11 a.m., we were enjoying beers while playing some harmless drinking games. By 4 p.m., I had gone inside the house and begun an argument with my father about his infidelity. By 9 p.m., I had broken three toes, kicked my best friend out of the party for a look she may or may not have given me, made out with all of my male friends present and wandered alone through my neighborhood. By 11 p.m., I was drinking straight from a bottle of Jack Daniels and smoking marijuana with my father's tenant. By 1 a.m., I was out cold.
The hangover I woke up with did not compare to the searing pain in my feet or the look I was given by my father's girlfriend. The best part: I had no idea how any of this had happened. I take that last statement back. The best part: I continued like this for another year.
My last drink was on August 7, 2018. I had spent the two months prior thinking about the decision I had made by getting behind the wheel of my 2008 Honda Civic and driving my best friend home. A seemingly kind act was dashed by a six-pack of Blue Moon, a pitcher of sangria and half a dozen shots of tequila. I chose to get behind the wheel and drive under the influence. However, I never chose the battle I found myself in against a vicious substance abuse disorder.
Every day, I battle the misunderstanding so many individuals have pertaining to substance abuse disorder as a disease. Whether their misinformation is the result of our media, education system or conversations had at home, it goes without question that the disease must be destigmatized and recovery normalized. Addiction does not discriminate. We are not given the choice as to whether or not we will know how and when to stop. We are, however, given the choice to take back control. I like to think that I saved myself from my substance abuse issues but really, I think my substance abuse issues saved me.
I have decided to pursue graduate school and have found a program for a Master's Degree in Mental Health Counseling with an advanced certificate in addiction and substance abuse. This degree will allow me to work with individuals, families, and groups in myriad settings focusing on mental health, substance abuse, and alcohol and drug counseling. I strongly believe that my experiences hold the potential the change, and even save, many lives.
In addition to graduate school, I have joined a company as a peer recovery specialist. Cress is creating a mobile platform to help provide 24/7 support for those in substance abuse disorder recovery. As a member of the team, I create visual content sharing my substance abuse and recovery process, as well as help spread the mission of the company with the hope that more recovering individuals will utilize the service.
There are more days than I like to admit that I ask myself, "Why me – why couldn't I be like most people - able to have a few drinks, know not to start arguments or go home with the wrong person?" While I don't have an answer to this burning question, I do believe that I was given this life because I am strong enough to live it. And with that being said, I will do exactly that: live.
