I was waiting for the day that I could move out so that I could drink without consequence. Despite my parents’ constant warnings and war stories (in part because of these), I didn’t have any hesitation when an opportunity of any kind came my way. I hated football, but I still went to pretty much every game! Why? Because it was an excuse to GET DRUNK. And to kiss boys, look hot, and gossip with my friends, lol. Looking back, it was insanity. I can barely remember my prom. I was so shitfaced! Did anybody attend high-school events sober?

Not me! I have no regrets about that, though; these things wouldn’t be my sober cup of tea. Alcohol was most of the fun for me; I could care less about the actual event. I did think a lot about how I would look and what my peers would be thinking of me. Of course, everyone spends their thought energy solely on me;). I got excited about being the hottest and coolest one there (lol yikes). The thought of getting praise, attention, some sexy Instagram pics, AND getting to experiment with whatever I could get my hands on got me pretty jazzed about school-related functions (ok, ok- all social functions). I had a “world revolves around me” complex for sure. Though finding alcohol was priority number one for all events because, without it, I was not nearly as important as I thought I was. As the novelty of alcohol wore off and I went off to college, everything I did revolve around alcohol and drugs. When I pictured any major event in my future, alcohol played a significant role. I chose my school based on a post I read with a title along the lines of “best party schools in America.” I ended up at the University of Colorado in Boulder. I joined a sorority, not for philanthropy, but the parties.

I rarely went to class, and when I did, I was super hungover and would cheat and stare at boys. I lived for the weekends. Pretty quickly, the weekends blurred into weekdays; every day was a Saturday! Granted,  I was not alone in this. On every corner, no matter the day or time, there was a frat party or some outdoor drinking game on display. I loved it. I ended up switching schools to be closer to home and closer to the mountains. I thought something might change. It only got worse; I couldn’t see it, though. I had no direction. No drive, except for partying and being a “good skier.” I surrounded myself with people that liked to party and ski as much as I did. I figured my peers were handling their life how I was, or maybe I was in denial. I held up appearances on the outside. I talked about classes and chose an intense major. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had no control over my life and was getting nowhere. 

Honestly, all I cared about was letting loose and forgetting about everything else. Smiling and connecting with my friends felt like an essential thing in my world. The rest didn’t matter. Subconsciously I knew I had a problem; I knew that I was not like the rest of them. I would think about getting sober and be terrified at the thought. How am I supposed to go to weddings and not have a glass of champagne? I am the life of the party when I am drinking and doing blow; who would want to be around me without it, I kind of suck. I loved the feeling of thoughtlessness. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in my mind with nowhere to run. Surely this escape can’t last forever. Eventually, I decided to change. I decided to get help. Well, decided is the wrong word. I have no idea how it happened. Maybe it was an intervention from God. Perhaps it was my spirit saying, “FUCK YOU.” Maybe I honestly lost all sense of reality while trying so hard to escape it. Whatever it was, it was my saving grace. It kicked my ass, and I am still living in shame; I hit rock bottom. I blew my life up so massively and publicly there was no denying that it was time to get sober. Rock bottom saved my life. I could no longer hide. My dad called and said, “it’s time, isn’t it?”. I knew it was. He flew down that day, and I was in rehab the following afternoon. I had no intention of changing anything in my life besides substance abuse. When I got home, everything would be the same except for a tiny detail. “It will be fine.” “I’m still the same person, just a better version.” “I can be the designated driver!” – The treatment team didn’t like these thoughts at all. They unanimously believed I had to drop all ties with all past ties. Fast forward six months, I am home again. I am sober. I am excited to see all my friends, see my boyfriend, ski, and party (sober, of course). I dreamt of this moment for so long. I am finally back, and sobriety won’t change a thing. Sobriety is cool as fuck! Maybe I will start a trend! But I will just be me, and nothing will change. After all, I am still the same me I was before I got sober; I had amazing friends and experiences that won’t change! I was in a pink cloud that was about to come crashing down.