I’m an alcoholic and drug addict in recovery. I have not had a mind-altering substance since May 22, 2000. This is the greatest fact of my life; more than the 22 years I have been married or the pride I have for my 19-year-old daughter.

As far back as I can remember I have used one substance or another to alter my normal state. This is because I could never just sit with my emotions for very long without wanting to kill myself or somebody else. My mother always told me I was “too sensitive,” and took things, “too personally.” I never understood what she was talking about and she never took the time to really explain it. I felt like I was out in the world fending for myself.

I grew up believing that if you wanted something you had to take it.

From the time I was 16 I was an everyday user. I still have no idea how I made it through college in four years (and four summers). I had a 0.9 GPA my first year and finished with a 2.1. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it is a consequence of my addiction. When I graduated, I was ill equipped and a full-blown addict.

I had heard the advertising world was pretty cool and that there was a lot of drinking involved, so I spent a few years in the “corporate world” before they caught on that I wasn’t a good fit for the job. I had met the man who was to become my husband, and thought I’d be okay. I floundered through a few different jobs before giving him an ultimatum–marry me, or get packing!

I had no life skills, except bullying anyone who got in my way and didn’t give me what I wanted.

We married, and after a couple of years I was bored with him. I thought maybe a baby would help spice things up.

Needless to say, the baby was NOT the answer. I struggled so intensely to connect with this little girl I thought I really wanted, but had no clue how to take care of her. I could barely take care of myself!

My drinking and drug use took off at this point, and I started to do reprehensible and demoralizing things. I would leave her alone and go use in another apartment. I used and drove under the influence with her in the car, and  I took her with me to get drugs. I am not proud of these things, but they are also consequences of my addiction.

By the time my daughter was four, I was using all day everyday. I could barely care for her, and I thank God for the people at her daycare.

I hit rock bottom one night, locked myself in the bathroom and attempted suicide. My husband had to knock the door down. I saw the look of pity on his face. Standing right behind him, I saw my little girl, terrified. It was just one more reason for her to fear me. It was over. I needed help.

Just over fifteen years ago, I walked into a 12-step program and my life changed. I found people who understood me and liked me for who I was. I didn’t have to pretend to be anything I wasn’t. Over the last fifteen years, I have learned to be a wife and mother. I’ve worked really hard to gain parenting skills and learn how to put my daughter first. The good news is, children are forgiving. My daughter and I have the type of relationship that I have always dreamed about. I live a life of deep gratitude and joy.

I would not, in a million years, give up what I have today for a drink.

This post was submitted anonymously.

A Sober Mommies Contributor is most often a non-professional – in and out of recovery – with reality-based experience to share about motherhood & active addiction, the multiple pathways to recovery, or a family member’s perspective.

I always suspected that I was the food equivalent of an alcoholic, though I’d never admit it. I could never stick to a diet. I ate out of habit, not out of hunger. I’d have trouble paying the rent on time, but I’d always find money for some large-sized fast food meal. I was out of control, and I was determined to follow in the footsteps of my father, who ate himself into an early grave a dozen years earlier.

“You don’t have a problem,” I’d tell myself. “People who are addicts have real problems. You’re just a fatass who can’t stop eating.”

This voice was both right and wrong. By choosing food over the things that really mattered, such as family and health, I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But at the same time, I knew there was something more, something else I needed to resolve.

I entered treatment for an eating disorder late last summer. At first, it was easy to stick to the meal plans. But after a few weeks, I found myself consumed with negative emotions. Without that crutch of junk food, I was forced to deal with the real issues that I was trying to avoid. Every bad meal was an attempt to keep these issues hidden, in order to keep up the act for everyone else.

I’d gone five years without self-injuring, a streak I was extremely proud of. But in my food-deprived sense of despair, those old tingles came back again. So many times I considered going back to my old ways. After all, a razor blade has zero calories.

It was at that moment that I realized I was exactly what I thought I was. I was an addict.

I was down 30 pounds after treatment. People started to notice. As they asked me about “what I did,” I felt so violated. My weight issues were tied to much deeper, much darker issues. Every question brought my lifelong struggles with self-worth to light. As a result, it didn’t take me long to resume blocking out negative thoughts with food. It was just easier to not wage an internal struggle that would destroy me one way or another.

I found Sober Mommies through a friend’s Facebook feed, and I was blown away by the stories I read. These people, who are much braver than I, shared their stories for the world to see. These stories struck such a chord with me. I admired everyone who told their stories… and for the first time, I wanted to be one of them.

The stories on Sober Mommies detail the lives of people from many different situations. But they all share one common theme—the journey of an individual who eventually comes around to deciding that she’s worth saving. I’ve never believed I was worth anything. And in retrospect, I can see that I was trying to overeat to the point that I’d go away permanently. Reading these success stories showed me that it was possible to come around, to gain some semblance of love for myself.

I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not a drug addict. But I easily could be. It just so happens that food is my vice.

My ultimate goal is to be able to look at food as just food, without any of the thoughts and feelings that accompany eating. I’m not there yet. But I’m closer than I’ve ever been.

This post was submitted by Bryan.

A Sober Mommies Contributor is most often a non-professional – in and out of recovery – with reality-based experience to share about motherhood & active addiction, the multiple pathways to recovery, or a family member’s perspective.

I believe in Sober Mommies, and the empowering message it sends to anyone who has struggled with addiction. Having said that, I hope I won’t be judged based on my perspective.I have been blessed. I am not an addict. I have never been addicted to any illegal, mind-altering substance. I have, however, had to deal with the actions and consequences of an addict for the past twenty years.

In many ways, an addict is like an ever-igniting bomb. The addict suffers each blow, but the shrapnel from each explosion also devastates everyone in her path.

If you are reading this sober, I congratulate you. But I also beg you to be patient with the people who have been on this journey with you. We are filled with anger, resentment, bitterness, and the very real fear that you will mess up again. While you are learning how to live sober, we are trying to learn how to trust you. These obstacles are equally difficult. I can no longer be a beacon of hope for the addict in my life. This letter is for her.

To My Sister:

A few days ago, I heard you say to your daughter, “If anyone cares, I am eleven days sober.” This confused me. Are you seeking support and admiration for doing something for eleven days? You haven’t raised your children in SIXTEEN YEARS! Your daughter hasn’t been able to seek guidance from you with her relationship problems, celebrate happy occasions with you, or reach out to even ask random questions because you have never been there for her. That responsibility has been left on your mother, her grandmother and legal guardian, and me; her aunt. And now, you would try to guilt your daughter for not being supportive of your eleven days?

Where the fuck were you?

When I was twenty years old, you decided to abandon your children and leave them with our mother and ailing father. You decided, for whatever reason, they were a better fit to raise your son and daughter.

And then you left.

During this time, did you take it upon yourself to self-reflect, seek therapy, or focus on the important things in life? NO! You chose to procreate again with an abusive convict; a man who, when not incarcerated, collects disability because he suffers with an “addiction problem”. You brought two more children into this world, and now they are also being raised by our mother.

But you have eleven days sober! Good for you!

I have a family. Most days I work nine hours; sometimes ten. Every day on my way home, I call our mother to see how she’s doing raising your children.

Some days she’s in tears.

On those days, I go to her house so she has some support. On my way out, we plan my return. These days throw off the routine I have established for my own family. When I get home, I still have to do what REAL mothers do. I have to make dinner, get things ready for the next day, and bathe my child.

On the nights I don’t go over, I check in on your older children to see how they are doing. I worry about how they are dealing with the ramifications of the incident that has motivated you to stay sober for ELEVEN WHOLE DAYS—the fact that you overdosed two days after your oldest daughter’s birthday.

Good for you, though. You have eleven days sober.

I am enraged at how easily you can go for a leisurely walk in the middle of a workday; while our mother tries to figure out when to pick up your younger kids from elementary school. It must be nice to awaken whenever you want, without the responsibility of having to get your kids dressed, make them breakfast, or deal with their emotional confusion, because they don’t know how to express their feelings after seeing the domestic violence you subjected them to, and their mother lying on the floor…BLUE.

I hate who you are, and what you have become. I am envious of people who have a sibling they can depend on; someone they can do things with, enjoy life with, and love. I was short-changed. My sibling is a pathological liar who lives for her own hedonistic pleasures and ignores all things she is responsible for. I wanted to move out of this city one day, but I can’t. I gave up that dream, because I made a promise to our father when he was dying, that I would help take care of Mom and YOUR children… because he knew you wouldn’t.

You play the victim because you’re the addict, but you have held our entire family hostage because of your choices. You have done nothing but lie and abuse our trust. You have wasted our youth, our expectations, and our hope that one day you might become a decent daughter, mother, and sister. Your actions have altered who your children could have been, their relationships with people, and their ability to trust.

If you need someone to acknowledge your eleven days, here it is. I will congratulate you, but this is the last interaction we will have. I’m exhausted, and I just can’t do it anymore.

Eleven days does not make up for your sixteen years of destruction.

This post was submitted by an Anonymous family member.

For some reason, summer always strikes me as a tough season to stay sober. Maybe because of the energy it brings, or the increased number of cook-outs and drinking that goes on. Granted, I didn't need the summer excuse to get my drink on, but I'm certain I used it anyway. If you are new to sobriety, or if you're like me and get a little nostalgic, here are 10 tips for a sane and sober summer.

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