Which came first?
Unraveling my mental health and my addiction
(Martin Pechy / Pexels)
When I started writing this piece, my goal was to stop drinking forever.
I thought that sobriety would be the culmination of my journey to regain self-control, to pull myself out of the hole I’d dug myself into, and to carve out a new life that matched the path I was supposed to be on. I’m what you might call a high-functioning person with depression, ADHD, and anxiety, all of which were untreated until a few years ago. And to cope over the years, I first developed an eating disorder, followed by what is probably a substance use disorder. All of which were fully in my control (or so I thought) until about a year ago, when my mental health fell off a cliff.
I should say - trying to get sober in the first place was never part of the plan. Primarily because that would imply that I had a problem in the first place, but also because “trying” implied that I haven’t succeeded. Relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism was easy, and I’d moved away from other coping mechanisms in the past, so I thought that learning new, healthier coping mechanisms would be easy.
Five weeks later, and I can’t say that I still believe sobriety is the best path for me.
I want to be able to have one or two drinks, put the glass down and move on with the rest of my life. (Or do I? I went out to dinner with a few friends last weekend, and noted that the cocktails didn’t add anything to the social experience. If anything, they took away from it.)
As I’ve gone through this journey, I’ve realized that alcohol ultimately isn’t the root of my problems - it’s just one of the best coping mechanisms I’ve found so far. I started with binge eating in high school, then restricted in college. When I started grad school, I oscillated between overspending and skipping meals. And during the pandemic, I discovered alcohol.
I went from nursing a bottle of wine over a few days, to drinking 1-2 bottles per day, racking up thousands of dollars in credit card bills by ordering online from different stores to hide the shame of having to face the same cashier every day. And if you’d asked me at the height of my drinking, I would have told you I didn’t have a problem.
That is, until my fingers and toes started going numb.
I’ve always had low blood pressure, so my hands and feet falling asleep wasn’t exactly new, but it became a constant that I couldn’t ignore (that, and the GI issues, but I won’t get into that for the sake of whoever is reading this). I told my therapist, who recommended reaching out to my doctor. As of the day I’m finalizing this piece, I have an appointment this afternoon.
In the interim, what I’ve noticed is that I think I’m coming to the end of my relationship with alcohol.
I’ve gotten into a healthier daily routine. I eat relatively well, make time for exercise, avoid burnout at work, and try to resist my perfectionism. I see my therapist twice a week, and we’re starting to unpack traumas I didn’t even know I had. And as I’ve done all that, I’ve been less and less interested in alcohol. I can go a day, or two, or three without drinking, I haven’t binged in about a month, I can sit with my anxiety and wait for it to pass, and my depression seems to have lifted for now.
And that’s why I’m not convinced that quitting drinking will solve all my problems — I’ve found other unhealthy coping mechanisms before, and I’m sure I can find new ones if I leave alcohol behind. Granted, I am planning to at least take sobriety for a spin for the next few months so that my physical body can take some time to heal - I’d like to regain feeling in my fingers again - but I’m much more interested in focusing on continuing to fill my life with things that make me happy.
Jordan is a student and educator who enjoys reading science fiction/fantasy books in her spare time.
This piece was written and shared during the IDONTMIND Writing Workshop. Learn more about our free, nine-week course and be the first to know about the next workshop here. Visit Mental Health Connecticut’s YouTube channel for a video version of Jordan’s story.