Category: Recovery Stories

Rehab Snapshots

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

I really wish I had a camera was a thought that lived in my mind the entire time I was at one of the treatment facilities I stayed at in 2020. 

I spent five weeks in this facility, and though my memory of my arrival there is spotty, there are several snapshot moments of this experience I hope I never forget. 

This is one of them. 

“Karaoke? Here in a rehab? No way. You’ve gotta be kidding me.” I laughed while chatting with my friend Andy. Andy is this massive 6’5″ radiant personality I still get to text with to this day. We were in line for lunch at the cafeteria after finishing one of our group therapy sessions. There were eager murmurs among fellow residents that one of the staff members said she would bring in a mic and speaker set if we, the people who miraculously hadn’t killed themselves in recent weeks, were willing to do karaoke during her shift supervising us on Friday night.

It was early summer in 2020. After flipping my car upside down on Bardstown Road in Louisville, KY, I ended up in this treatment facility. The idea of going from barely wanting to be alive to singing into a mic in front of other people without a single drop of alcohol in my body was wild. I mean, I had to be locked away in a treatment facility because I couldn’t bring myself to stop drinking safely. Now, these people want to get me to sing along to a song on a microphone? 

So many thoughts ran through my mind in response to this idea: What if I’m not fun to others and I just bore them? I’m not good enough to get up in front of others and just be. I like my singing voice, but I’m scared it’s not good enough to be a strong voice and that I can’t be silly enough to be comically bad for karaoke. Is there even such a thing as fun without alcohol? I’d like to watch others try. I love karaoke, but me? Sober? I’ll have to pass.

As we sat down to eat, Danielle, the staff member the buzz was about, approached our table. As usual, she was beaming, “Did y’all hear about karaoke on Friday? You ready, Jess?” She looked me in the eyes and smiled, which slowed the racing panic of my detoxing brain.

Danielle always put me at ease because her lived experience instilled hope that this repetitive cycle I found myself in would one day stop. In Drowning in Shallow Water: Chapter 1, I share how I learned that Danielle had also lost her partner to a drug overdose. Despite this loss, she was sober and working with others. Danielle gave me hope that I could find joy and love after losing my boyfriend, Ian. Her lived experience and confidence in how she conducted herself made me think, Maybe I can try this karaoke thing on Friday night. 

I turned my face to Danielle, smiled while hesitantly shrugging my shoulders, and said, “I really don’t want to do it, but since you’re putting it together, Danielle, I’ll try it.” 

“You won’t regret this, Jess!” Danielle declared.

And dammit, she was right.

On Friday night, Danielle came in for her shift. She decorated the residential lounge area, turned the overhead lights off, and connected her karaoke machine to her phone. As the music started playing and I felt the bass of the music vibrate a little bit, the sensory experiences began to take me back. The thumping with the darkness and the flashing lights from the machine took me back to being at a bar or club. 

But I wasn’t at the club. I was in treatment. 

One of the younger residents, Elly, got up to do a song. In our therapy groups, she was often disengaged and rarely used her voice. I assumed she did not want to take up space, so I remember my curiosity when I saw her awkwardly standing before us, her hand on the mic and the other on her hip. We waited for what felt like ages, and then the words came. Elly took a deep breath, closed her eyes, gripped the microphone with both hands and came to life. 

I wish I could remember the song, but I don’t. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. What mattered was that Elly was freed beyond the walls of the treatment facility in those few moments. As she danced and performed as if she was on stage somewhere else, I elbowed Andy next to me, and I held up my hands as though I was holding up a real camera and took a snapshot of Elly. 

So, what happened afterward? 

After letting herself be seen, Elly started to speak up more in groups. And me? I did eventually sing, too, just not on that day. 🙂

On the left, me doing karaoke in my active addiction. On the right, karaoke sober.

Want to write your OWN story? My LAST Six-Week Writing to Heal Program for 2023 starts tomorrow, September 30th!

Register here for the following dates:

Meeting Dates: Saturdays from 11-12 ET

  • September 30th 
  • October 7th
  • October 14th
  • October 21st
  • November 4th
  • November 11th

Upcoming Opportunities

Six-Week Writing to Heal Program. Last one for 2023! Starts September 30th at 11 AM. Register here.

Schedule a free coaching consultation here!

Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-22 are live!

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What’s the real perk of a life lived without alcohol?

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

You can read me a list of all the perks that come from a life lived without alcohol, but the greatest perk for me is that I have a life to live in the first place.

​Johns Hopkins defines​ the three stages of alcoholic liver disease as fatty liver, alcoholic hepatitis, and cirrhosis. Life expectancy after a cirrhosis diagnosis can be between two to twelve years.

Take your age today and add twelve years.

What age does that give you? It’s scary, isn’t it?

When I was diagnosed with stage two alcoholic liver disease, alcoholic hepatitis, in 2019, I was quickly moving toward cirrhosis. If I hadn’t stopped drinking, I doubt I would still be here in 2023.

So yes, there are many benefits to living a sober life. Still, the most significant advantage of the sober life is the existence of a life not cut abruptly short.

For example, this weekend was incredibly frustrating because I worked really hard to get my writing workshop ready to go, and had over 120 folks registered (the largest group I ever had), only for there to be an issue with my passcode on Zoom, so my attendance was affected. Yes, I was bummed, so I allowed myself to feel the disappointment, but then I remembered to shift my perspective.

I must always remind myself that even a tough day is a blessing because if you look at how I drank and my liver condition back then, I “shouldn’t” be here. But here I am, showing addiction that we do recover, and picking myself up after this disappointment to dust off my shoulders and invite you to join me this week for either of these fantastic upcoming opportunities:

  • Learn to tell your story in my Six-Week Writing to Heal Program, which starts July 15th! This is seriously life-changing work. ​Register here​.
  • How are you feeling about your progress this year, really? Let’s discuss it at the Mid Year Check to ensure you’re good for the rest of 2023. This will be a powerful collaboration between Dr. Diane Marie and myself on July 16th! ​Register here​.

Other resources:

  • Catch up on my new podcast! Episode links are available ​here​.
  • Learn more about the increasing rates alcoholic liver disease among women ​here​.

Thank you all, and I hope you have a solid start to your week.

“Whoa, Jess. Aren’t you drinking a little fast there?”

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

My stomach sank, and I felt my face tingle from embarrassment. I was on my third drink, and my co-teachers and I had been at happy hour for maybe 45 minutes.

I awkwardly laughed it off, “Oh, you know it’s been a CRAZY day,” and I proceeded to slow down on that last drink. I excused myself afterward, saying I had to go grade a bunch of assignments. My face felt hot as I walked to the train station in the cold. I kept my eyes low to ensure I didn’t trip on the uneven Brooklyn sidewalk, and I held on tightly as I rode what felt like the world’s longest and steepest escalator up to the J at Broadway Junction.

When I got off at Crescent St., I started to cross Fulton to go to my house when I saw the liquor store under the train station.

It caught my eye.

Hmm, I thought. I can get just a little bit. I didn’t get to really drink how I wanted to with everybody back at the bar.

So I stepped into the store and sheepishly asked for a, “Lemme get one of those little bottles.”

I took the half pint of liquor home and felt immediate relief as soon as I locked the door behind me. It was such a relief to drink how I wanted to, without anyone saying anything, no one to make me feel hot with shame.

Little did I know that was the beginning of me learning to drink in isolation, and the beginning of a long toxic relationship with alcohol that later almost killed me.

______

A quick note:

My addiction didn’t happen suddenly. And I would definitely say that this wasn’t the moment I knew I had a problem. Neither would I say that this was when my problem started. My problem with alcohol developed over years of repeating many tiny choices like these. Small choices with gradually magnifying consequences eventually led to a full-blown addiction where I drank a fifth a day and got alcoholic liver disease. It didn’t happen overnight; honestly, it sometimes feels like it snuck up on me.

If you’re questioning your relationship with alcohol and having lots of little moments like these, there are so many ways to get help.

You don’t have to do this alone.

Upcoming Opportunities:

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. July 8th. Register ​here​.

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. July 15th. Register ​here​.

Summer Soul Mid-Year Check In: How Are We, Really? July 16th. Register ​here​.

Free Support Group for Educators. August 3rd. Register ​here​.

Coaching 1:1 is open. Schedule a free consultation ​here​.

Stop Cooking, Keep Drinking

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

I narrowly opened my eyes to find a man I had never seen standing over me. I gasped as I jumped up, only to feel the rip of smoke down my throat and in my chest. Dread filled my stomach. Oh no, what did I do? 

“Maam, you left your oven on, and your smoke detector’s been going off for I don’t know how long. I got the call to come in and see what was going on and see if we needed to call the fire department. It’s gonna stink in here for a while, but are you okay? I, uh, I can’t believe none of this woke you up.” The maintenance worker from my old apartment in Louisville kept eyeing the bourbon bottle lying within my arm’s reach. He knew what happened.

“Uh, yeah. I’m so embarrassed, and I’m so sorry. Am I going to get in trouble?” I asked him as I held back tears. 

“Maam, that’s outside my pay grade. You take care of yourself now.” He nodded, stepped back into the hallway, and left. 

I only remember that it was dark out, and the following day, I got a letter from the apartment complex’s management office informing me that if I caused another fire hazard, they would break my lease. I would have to leave immediately. 

Something had to change so that I wouldn’t lose my home. Was it my drinking? I WAS drinking up to a fifth of alcohol at this point. Nah, I thought, Let me just stop trying to cook altogether so I don’t start fires. I will order food delivery instead. What???

My alcohol addiction had distorted my thinking to the point that the “obvious” solution to me not burning down my apartment complex was to stop cooking and order takeout rather than examine my relationship with alcohol. Dopamine had entirely hijacked my brain to make it believe that I needed alcohol over all things to survive, so when deciding between making food or drinking alcohol, I effectively chose to drink alcohol instead. 

Some takeaways for you from this are:

  1. If you are trapped in a spiral of poor decision-making because of dealing with addiction, I know your brain wants you to hate yourself, so you can continue to spiral and feed your addiction, but it’s not you. Neurologically, it makes sense. I recommend this brief YouTube video if you prefer watching a video over reading an entire book. It’s not you. It’s the substance you’re addicted you.
  2. If you’re reading my story and thinking, “At least I didn’t do THAT,” remember that it’s really about any choices that you may be making that are problematic. Maybe it’s not that you’re almost causing a fire, but you’re driving, blacking out, getting sick, missing work, etc. 
  3. There is support out there. There are free programs, paid programs, mentors, sponsors, and coaches. You don’t have to go through this alone. You can reach out to me for a consultation for coaching here.

My Big Professional Failure

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica
Audio for people who prefer to listen.

I think I won’t drink today, I thought to myself as I stared at the empty bottle of cheap bourbon that sloppily sat exactly where I dropped it at some point the previous night on my bedroom floor. As the fog started to clear from the night before, as it did every single morning of my life, my heart froze in a panic. My phone! I reached for my phone in a frenzy, saying some nonsensical prayer as I unlocked it to scan my notifications rapidly. 

Had I messaged someone I had no business talking to? No. 

Did I make any wild phone calls? No. 

Did I post anything on social media that I would later regret? No, not last night. 

It was my lucky day. Other mornings were not so fortunate, and I would have answered “yes” to one of the above-listed questions. On mornings like those, I would find myself wishing I could skip the functional part of my addiction where I was a successful teacher, disappear under the covers, and dive right back into my bottle.

Teaching in 2019 in the midst of alcohol use disorder.

My greatest professional failure was never taking advantage of the resources available to me as an employee to get help because I was scared of being my own advocate. It was my failure to address my worsening problems with alcohol, which the more shame I felt about, the harder I worked at my job, and the more powerful my silence became about my growing addiction. 

It was as if I would tell myself, I can’t be a terrible person if I do a great job teaching, right?! I had a teaching career for thirteen years. Each of these years, I had health benefits that I did NOT touch. See a therapist? NO way. I even had access to things like short-term disability and the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) if I needed to seek treatment for my alcohol use disorder. But me, go to treatment? Nah, I’m good. So I thought, but I wasn’t good. I was dying.

I developed alcoholic liver disease and decided to stop drinking in September 2019, but getting sober is no small feat, and I didn’t successfully stop drinking until November 28, 2020. Side note, my liver has fully healed, and the only treatment necessary was to stop drinking.

But here are a few things I learned: 

  1. USE YOUR HEALTH BENEFITS AND GO TO THERAPY. I had to place this in all caps because, yes, I am screaming this to you. My long-term recovery has benefitted from opportunities to dig into my WHY and work on addressing and healing my WHY. If you have health benefits, you already give your employer so much, take a little and get yourself an in-network provider! Some workplaces even offer free counseling up to a certain number of visits. USE IT.
  2. If you need to, use your benefits and go to treatment! Talk to HR about it. According to the US Department of Labor, “FMLA leave may only be taken for substance abuse treatment provided by a health care provider or by a provider of health care services on referral by a health care provider.The employer may not take action against the employee because the employee has exercised his or her right to take FMLA leave for substance abuse treatment.” See the full text here.
  3. The stigma of addiction is a killer. Connect with someone, anyone, about what you’re going through!

Join my free writing workshop in February of 2023!

Needing additional support? Schedule a coaching consultation today. 

What Does Someone in Recovery Look Like?

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Guest Submissions, Recovery Stories
Audio of the text for people who prefer to listen.

November 2, 2022 marked 11 years since I last drank alcohol.


I celebrated by posting myself on Instagram holding a sign that read, “I am 11
years sober today!”


Discussing my past relationship with alcohol is a task I struggle to do because I am
still coming to terms with my experiences.


Nonetheless, I’m committed to adding a face to mental illness and encouraging
others to prioritize healing.


So, I hit the “share” button on Instagram, stepped out of my comfort zone, and
virtually stood in my power as a woman in recovery.


Several sobriety-centered accounts kindly reposted my picture. Many of their
followers congratulated me and shared their sobriety anniversaries.


Amidst the support, several followers in the comment section downplayed my
sobriety, suggested I pick up drinking again and accused me of not being sober.


My age came up as a topic by supporters and skeptics alike.


Depending on who you ask, I present as a teenager or someone in their early
twenties. My teenage years and early twenties are far behind me.


Let’s be clear, I appreciate aging like Benjamin Button and am thankful for my
Ecuadorean and Nicaraguan genetics.


I welcome compliments about my youthful appearance. I do not welcome
comments weaponizing my presumed age to undermine my sobriety.


“Sooo you stopped drinking when you were 10 years old? Not impressed,” said one
Instagram user while another wrote, “I don’t know what 11 years means coming
from someone probably in their mid 20’s…..” said another.


In reality, I stopped drinking during my junior year of college after several years of
binge drinking that started in high school.

Priscilla over 11 years ago, before recovery.


I tried hard to convince myself that my relationship with alcohol was normal during
those three years.

In hindsight, holding my drinking to a normalcy standard was too subjective.


Self-destruction would have been a more objective and helpful standard.


Objectively, repeatedly blacking out, vomiting, and jeopardizing my education,
health, and safety were self-destructive behaviors.


But, for many, those are considered normal drunk behaviors for a college student.
I was less motivated back then to challenge stereotypes surrounding alcohol abuse
because I hid behind these generalizations and social norms.


I rationalized and deliberately avoided “red flags” that mental health providers look
for to diagnose patients with alcohol dependency.


For example, I would go partying by myself and drink because I knew mental
health professionals considered drinking alone a warning sign for alcoholism.

No, I was not alone but I was lonely inside a club full of strangers.


Who decides how someone with an alcohol use disorder looks or even acts? The
truth is no two people with a drinking problem look or behave the same way.


Actress Drew Barrymore underwent treatment for alcohol and drug addiction at the
age of 13.


Supermodel Naomi Campbell is in recovery from alcohol abuse and does not
resemble the fictional alcoholic Frank Gallagher from Shameless.


Yet, Drew, Naomi, Frank, and I are all legitimate representations of alcohol use
disorder because we fell on the spectrum of alcohol abuse.


According to licensed mental health counselor and author Sarah Allen Benton,
alcohol use disorder is “a condition that ranges from mild to moderate to severe.

And it’s all still problem drinking, even if you think it’s ‘mild.’”


An alcohol use disorder diagnosis is rarely a straightforward process and involves
self-reporting answers from the alleged alcoholic.


Reacting to someone’s disclosure about the intensity, frequency, and consequences
of their drinking with disbelief or ridicule could obstruct their diagnosis and
treatment.

Respond with compassion when someone discusses their relationship with alcohol
instead of comparison.


It is very likely that the person sharing struggled to realize their problem let alone
share their experiences with others.


I am unsure whether those that downplay my sobriety are trying to make me or
themselves feel better.


I am sure that invalidating someone’s relationship with alcohol does not provide
relief or empower those in recovery.

Priscilla in 2022. Provided by author.


Our community is healthier and stronger when we do not buy into misconceptions
about alcohol use.


Stereotypes fuel secrecy, stigma, and ignorance around alcohol recovery.


My name is Priscilla and I am what somebody in recovery from alcohol abuse looks
like.

About the author: Priscilla is a certified trauma recovery coach and
mental health speaker. Contact her directly at www.priscillamaria.com

Q&A At Two Years Of Recovery

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

TW:  death, substance use, relapse

Audio of Text

Hi, my name is Jessica Dueñas. I’m a recovering alcoholic/person with alcohol use disorder/you can insert any other label in there. I care little about the title and more about my story, especially if you, as the reader, can relate and find some hope in it. I decided to answer a few questions I get asked a lot with the hopes that this is helpful for you or someone you love.

I was a teacher and was such a successful teacher that I was named Kentucky’s State Teacher of the Year in 2019. At the same time that I won that award for all of my work at the school and community level, I struggled profoundly with alcohol use. I drank a fifth of alcohol a day in secret to the point where I was diagnosed with alcoholic liver disease. At 34, I was told I would develop cirrhosis if I didn’t stop. I quit drinking for a brief time until the tragic death by overdose of my then-boyfriend Ian on April 28th, 2020. 

After seeing his body for the last time as it was carried away from his apartment by the coroner, I set off on a months-long bender that almost killed me. My heart had been shattered into a million pieces that I believed never would have found their way back to each other. Between April and November, I was in a dangerous car wreck, almost bought a gun to kill myself with, blew nearly a .5 blood alcohol level a few times, and stayed in rehab facilities and hospitals eight times before I finally stopped drinking on November 28th, 2020.

By November, I had gotten so tired of fighting. I felt like I was dying but could not die, and I knew I could no longer continue living how I was living, so I gave up fighting and accepted help. I’ve been alcohol-free since November 28th, 2020, which at the time of writing this, is a full two years. 

Why did it take me so long to accept help from others?

As a first-generation American and first-generation college student, it was instilled in me to push through all difficulties because the generations before me over came their challenges, too. To admit to having a problem with alcohol or having mental health needs was equated with being weak, and that was a part of the stigma I did not want to be associated with. Throughout my life, I had, in fact, been successful at anything I tried to achieve (school, college, professional success) so I assumed that getting sober would be just as easy. I was wrong. I knew early on that there was something disordered about how I drank, but I was ashamed and thought if I ignored my problems that they would go away. They didn’t. 

How could I keep my drinking a secret when I drank so much?

I didn’t drink a fifth of liquor overnight. My drinking started with wine. Then when one bottle of wine wasn’t enough, I began to drink smaller liquor bottles. As my tolerance went up, I drank more. To someone without the tolerance that I had developed, a whole fifth would likely be incredibly dangerous, if not deadly, I was used to it, and my body had adapted to allow me to function. I didn’t drink until I had taken care of all of my responsibilities, and since I lived alone, once I finished checking in over the phone with my loved ones, I drank myself into a nightly blackout. Heavy alcohol consumption disrupts sleep, so I would wake up by 2 or 3 AM which gave me time to recover and get myself ready for the next day and repeat the vicious cycle. 

How did you actually stop after so much back and forth?

I believe it was a combination of factors that aligned perfectly for me. I will share them in no particular order of importance. First, I will say that I used psychiatric medication after years of being totally resistant to them. Though I no longer take medication and have not for some time, I used the medicine for the first 1.5 years of my recovery to help stabilize me because my body chemistry had been drastically affected by alcohol consumption. Now that I am two years in and have been doing a lot of healing work on myself, I feel more comfortable fully facing the sensations I used to need to escape. Second, as much as I loved teaching, I quit. Teaching was incredibly stressful, and I knew I could not both dedicate time to healing myself and teaching children well. Third, I decided to rip the band-aid off and come out openly to the public about the struggles I had been having. I decided to recover out loud because so many struggling individuals need folks like me to speak up. Hell, I needed me to speak up and be my own self-advocate for all the years I silently suffered. Fourth, I built a support group of people both in and out of recovery who either knew exactly what I was dealing with or could empathize and be supportive even if they didn’t get it. Fifth, I moved cities to get a fresh start. Oh, and sixth, I go to therapy, workout, watch my nutrition, and generally try to practice an overall healthy lifestyle.

Do you participate in a program?

I don’t. In the beginning, I was a part of a twelve-step program, but by about the six-month point, I became more active in connecting with others online and being a part of online communities and working closely with a therapist and coach. Everyone has to really examine what works for them. If it brings you joy and peace, stick with it. If you aren’t growing, go where you’ll grow.

What do you do now? 

After I quit teaching, I started working for a private tutoring company. Earlier this year, I became a certified coach and have been working with people on their own life goals and facilitating support group meetings for alcohol reduction and alcohol abstinence. It’s been great! 

What happened to your liver?

The human body’s ability to heal is phenomenal, and I’m grateful to share that my liver is perfectly healthy again. 

Last thoughts?

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” – Paulo Coelho 

I love this quote because it’s a reminder that giving up drinking can be terrifying. It can set off its own grieving process, but if you can say goodbye to alcohol, the new hellos waiting for you, personally, professionally, romantically, mentally, and health-wise, are unimaginable. 

If you’re needing help, contact me to get started, email me: jessica@bottomlesstosober.com

Teachers, back to school is here. If your drinking got worse over the summer and you feel it’s too late to get help, it’s not.

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Current Recovery Challenges, Recovery Stories, Uncategorized, Written by Jessica
Audio for those who prefer to listen.

If you’re a teacher, you are working in a climate that has gotten exponentially more challenging with time. Summer was likely a great relief for many, but the lack of structure can lead to more unhealthy behaviors. If you already had a questionable relationship with alcohol, you might have been using your time off drinking even more than you did before. Now that it is time for many of you to start getting ready to return to your school buildings, you may be worrying if your drinking is a problem. Is your alcohol consumption at the point where you may need help but are scared that it’s too late to do anything about it because you can’t miss work? 

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash 

It is not too late.

“But, I’m a professional. I do well at work and take care of all my responsibilities (finances, kids, family, pets, etc.).” None of that is relevant. When it comes to alcohol abuse, what you accomplish despite your drinking does not negate the fact that your relationship with alcohol is a problem. 

The National Institutes of Health (NIH) uses guidelines to determine if a person falls on the spectrum of alcohol use disorder. It is essential to highlight the word spectrum because one person’s problems with alcohol may look drastically different from another. Identifying alcohol abuse is not about comparing your drinking to someone else’s and being tempted to say, “Well, I am not as bad as her, so I must not have a problem.” This analysis is about your health and your life. This reflection needs to be about you solely. Examine what your thought process is and what your behavior is when it comes to drinking. Is it an issue? 

Here are some questions the NIH provides to ask regarding drinking. 

In the past year, have you:

  1. Had times when you ended up drinking more, or longer, than you intended? More than once wanted to cut down or stop drinking, or tried to, but couldn’t?
  2. Spent a lot of time drinking? Or being sick or getting over other aftereffects?
  3. Wanted a drink so badly you couldn’t think of anything else?
  4. Found that drinking—or being sick from drinking—often interfered with taking care of your home or family? Or caused job troubles? Or school problems?
  5. Continued to drink even though it was causing trouble with your family or friends?
  6. Given up or cut back on activities that were important or interesting to you, or gave you pleasure, in order to drink?
  7. More than once gotten into situations while or after drinking that increased your chances of getting hurt (such as driving, swimming, using machinery, walking in a dangerous area, or having unprotected sex)?
  8. Continued to drink even though it was making you feel depressed or anxious or adding to another health problem? Or after having had a memory blackout?
  9. Had to drink much more than you once did to get the effect you want? Or found that your usual number of drinks had much less effect than before?
  10. Found that when the effects of alcohol were wearing off, you had withdrawal symptoms, such as trouble sleeping, shakiness, restlessness, nausea, sweating, a racing heart, or a seizure? Or sensed things that were not there?

If, after reading this list, you are uncomfortable with the fact that you may have a problem with alcohol, I first want to say that you’re not alone. I taught successfully for thirteen years and won numerous awards, and at the end of my drinking career, I drank a fifth of bourbon a night and excelled the next day at work. I’ve been sober since November 28, 2020, so I promise you that it gets better and that knowing you have an issue can only serve your higher good. 

Maybe you have tried to stop drinking only to find that, for different reasons, you really could not control it on your own. You’ve heard of people going to treatment facilities, but now that school is around the corner, you feel like your opportunity to get assistance is gone. You think that you might have to wait for another break in the school year to come.

“Who is going to cover my classes?” “I don’t want to/don’t have the mental capacity to write these sub plans.” “I worry about my classroom.” “Will this go on file against me?” “I’ve never been to rehab. I’m scared to go.” “I don’t want to leave my kids at home.” “What if I lose my job?” “What if no one watches my children/pets at home?” 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash 

I, too, have said most of the above, but it is important to note that eventually if you don’t stop drinking, many of the fears listed will materialize anyway. You will decrease the likelihood of experiencing significant losses and consequences by going to treatment for a week or several weeks.

There are many resources and avenues for getting help outside of a treatment facility, and you can find those here. However, for those considering going into a facility, please be aware that if you have worked in the same district for over a year, you may be eligible to take advantage of the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) program with the U.S. Department of Labor. This program also applies to employees at agencies at the local, state, and federal levels. The specific line of the act that would apply to entering a treatment facility is “a serious health condition that makes the employee unable to perform the essential functions of his or her job.” Mental health IS health, so a problem with addiction IS a serious health issue. In my personal experience, I used FMLA as a public school teacher when I needed treatment. 

So what is FMLA? It is a federal program that, upon approval, allows individuals to take up to twelve weeks (or twenty-six, it depends on the circumstances) off of work to take care of different medical needs. This time off is usually NOT paid time off (not ideal, I know). However, the employee keeps all their benefits, and their job is guaranteed for them when they return. You are also protected by confidentiality, so your employer cannot disclose the nature of your absence to others. 

When I used it, my employer was only allowed to say that I was “on leave,” my accounts, such as my school email (your district may do something different), were put on pause until I returned. Also, when I say employer, I mean your human resources department. If you disclose your situation to your school principal, that is your choice, but the HR department cannot tell your principal why you are on leave. In my case, I did not write any lesson plans, either.

I share this information about FMLA because I was unaware I could use it when struggling with alcohol. I learned about it when I ended up in a hospital and the doctor on call recommended that I enter into treatment. My first reaction was, “No. I can’t. I’m a teacher.” He proceeded to explain FMLA to me, and when my family contacted my district’s human resources department, the HR staff confirmed that with the proper documentation, I was eligible for it. 

Many teachers have lost their jobs due to drinking, and if they haven’t lost their jobs, they have suffered other consequences, too. When I taught, I built my schedule around alcohol so that I could teach, lesson plan, grade, drink, pass out and get up only to repeat the same cycle every day for years. Alcohol dictated everything for me, and it made me physically very sick, yet I still successfully put up appearances of doing well. I was quietly letting it kill me. You don’t have to spend another school year suffering if you are still teaching. I let my problem spiral to the point where I had to leave, but you don’t have to. 

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash 

The content in this blog piece is not a replacement for advice from an individual’s human resources department, nor is it legal advice in any form.

Drowning in Shallow Water

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Current Recovery Challenges, Recovery Stories, Written by Jessica

Chapter 4: This House of Broken Promises

Audio

“Rehab is like a fortress. When you come in, we protect you from your demons, but when you leave, those demons are right where you left them, waiting. So how are you going to be different when you walk out those doors?” We were in a women’s session and the counselor, Kathryn, stopped to ask us that question.

Jessica today. Despite the ending of the story, today, Jessica has been sober since November 28th, 2020.

Shit. I didn’t know. Was I different? My eyes shifted from side to side to see if anyone showed signs of having morphed.

Then, as I processed more of what she said, I also realized that this so-called fortress didn’t do that good of a job protecting us from our demons or even ourselves while inside. The counselors always sat around in meetings each morning before coming in to work with us.  Kathryn was always in the know about all the patient gossip and drama. But how could she ignore that the day before one of my friends found a twenty-something slumped over in the bathroom stall? He had snuck pain pills in and nodded off after using them in the restroom. He had to go to the ER.

Did she not get filled in by management on how the week before Melissa, a mom in treatment on a judge’s order, was caught high on meth? This was her last chance to get her kids back from foster care and she ended up high after almost twenty days sober. “I just didn’t expect to see it, right in my face. When Connor snuck meth in and showed it to me, I didn’t think about anything but that feeling. I just want to apologize to the group for using drugs here. Now I don’t know what the judge will do with my kids.” I remember her holding back tears as she apologized. 

I wish I could go back to that moment and hold Melissa, then shake her and yell at her, “Don’t apologize to us! You thought you were safe and some idiot used what he knew would be a weakness against you. Don’t be ashamed because you relapsed. You are not a bad mom. You are not a bad person. Be proud that you’re still here and willing to continue. Be proud that you accepted another chance. Be proud that you’re getting help!” 

Really, these were all things I wish people would have said to me each time I relapsed last year. I say these things now to others when they relapse. I can’t help but wonder how Melissa is today and where her kids are. She always carried these slightly crinkled pictures of them in her folder and liked to pull them out in meetings and sessions. Big smiles, glowing skin, big messy curls that looked like they just got tousled while they had a blast playing. I hope they’re all together. I left before she did and lost touch quickly after. Did she become that “different” person that Kathryn said she had to be? Was she able to ward off the dragons laying wait outside of rehab after the five weeks were up? What a long time for her … for anyone. 

Thirty-five days.

I had thirty-five days of peace, away from everything. These five weeks in rehab were meant for me to cocoon myself before I emerged and flew away like some beautiful butterfly. My days in rehab were coming to an end as I felt my discharge day getting closer every morning. I saw the new date on the board. June 27 … June 28 … and finally June 29, the night before my departure. 

“Alright Ms. Jessica, let’s review and sign off on your aftercare plan. We are confirming that you are in fact going back to your house where you live by yourself, and you will be attending IOP (intensive outpatient program) for nine weeks,” said Nancy. Nancy was the social worker in charge of our transitional plans. “Are you sure you don’t want to go into sober living?” she asked. I shook my head. Hell no, I thought. There was absolutely no way that I was going to move into sober living. I was ready to be in my own space by myself and back with my puppy Cruz. 

I’ll be honest, I had the fleeting thought that maybe going straight home wasn’t the best idea. Then I had another thought that if I wanted to drink, my location wasn’t going to stop me from doing so, so I might as well go home. These back and forth conversations in my head were draining me of any morale I had left. 

After weeks of classes and group sessions, I could teach someone else the ins and outs of treatment. I could tell you exactly what triggers are and the science behind addiction and why we were all after dopamine whether you drank cheap liquor or shot heroin. I could tell you all about twelve-step and other recovery programs that we were introduced to. 

I was the valedictorian of rehab, a perfect mirror. Anything that I was taught I reflected back to everyone well enough to make them think, “Jessica’s got it,” when in fact, I did not. My last night in our group meeting, we went around the room and everyone had something nice to say about their time knowing me and their confidence in my ability to do well. I smiled at everyone and gave big hugs and promises of staying friends and keeping in touch. Internally, I cringed as each kind word made my stomach sink further. 

I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. 

I remember going to bed, bags packed, outfit selected to go home in. In my head, I planned to go back to normal and just not drink. But deep down there was that damn sinking feeling. I felt it every time I tried to convince myself that I was going back to “normal.” I tried to replay everyone’s kind words, but I couldn’t find ease or comfort in them. I pulled my hidden sleep meds from my bra and swallowed them quickly so I could fall fast asleep and escape the sense of impending doom I hated so much.

The morning came and my friend who had been taking care of Cruz since the day I went into treatment was waiting there to pick me up. I walked out into the sun and into her arms. It was so good to hug a friend from the outside world. We went straight to the grocery store where the smell of cilantro in the produce aisle made my mouth water. I remember filling my basket full of bright fruits and other healthy snacks. I was planning to keep up the balanced eating habits I picked up in treatment. 

Though I was dead sober, I don’t remember the ride back to my house. It was a blur. She came into the house with me, did a quick safety check to make sure there weren’t any bottles remaining, embraced me, and asked, “Alright girl, you gonna be good?” Uhhhhh, I thought, but I said, “Yeah, it’ll be tough, but I’ll be good.” As I shut the door behind her, I turned around and looked into my house. It was an empty, painful sight to take in.

So, it’s just you and me, I thought. Just me and this house of broken dreams. I went to turn the TV on, but nothing happened. I forgot that I had fallen onto it while drunk at some point and broke some cables. I opened my laptop to get online, but there was a picture of my dead boyfriend, handsome and joyful, so I slammed the computer shut. I sat at the table, but the seat felt too hard. I went to the couch, but the seat was covered in dog hair. I moved to another chair, but it felt empty. 

The house I lived in in Louisville. Picture is from a realtor site.

Then, like a small drop of water that will eventually overflow a bucket, the thought of having a drink made its way into my head. From this one thought, the desire immediately rushed throughout my body. I was overcome by the fiendish sensation. 

I know I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, I told myself. This thought was immediately followed by rationalizations.

Well, I can order a bottle and I don’t have to drink it, I said to myself as I got on my phone to get on the alcohol delivery app.

Yeah, I can pour it down the drain after a few drinks, I told myself when I closed out my cart and completed my purchase.

I repeated these same thoughts over the next hour as I waited for the delivery. I reawakened my old routine of pretending everything was fine. I called my sister, “Hey! Just letting you know I’m finally home … Yeah, it’s definitely weird … Yeah, I promise I’ll call if anything … Yeah, I’m so sleepy I’m going to go to bed early…” I also sent a few texts to let people know that all was “good” and I was going to “bed” because I was “tired.” 

This was around 7:30 PM. I was not going to bed.

It was in my hands and then my mouth. It burned in my throat. I gagged at first because I had forgotten what it was like and had chugged it straight from the bottle like I had been in a desert and hit an oasis.

I was finally out of this protective space that treatment was intended to be for me, this so-called fortress, this cocoon. I was in fact, a beautiful butterfly, but my wings were crumpled. I couldn’t fly, so I crashed hard. As I lay there flat on my back on the floor, a song played on repeat that I fell in love with while I was gone, Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues.

Never reaching the end

Letters I’ve written

Never meaning to send

Beauty I’d always missed

With these eyes before

Just what the truth is

I can’t say anymore…

I took one last breath, closed my eyes, and everything faded to black as I went back under the water of my addiction.

Originally written by Jessica for Love and Literature magazine.

To read the previous chapter, chapter 3 click here.

The Danger of the Golden Rule

Posted on by Jessica Duenas in Current Recovery Challenges, Guest Submissions, Recovery Stories

Guest Submission by Cathy Allen, veteran educator.

Audio

In my life, I have believed treat others as you would have them treat you. I spent my life loving others and treating others who I longed for to be there for me, to love me. Somewhere around 2007 2008, my coach said to ‘me, “They are not you.” I stepped back and realized I wanted my students to be those eager to please students that I was in school. I can now see that I was a little girl trying to earn my love. If I worked hard enough, did well enough, I would finally be loved the way I dreamed.

Photo by Recep Tayyip EROĞLU on Unsplash

In the past almost 2 years, I have never had someone love me the way I loved because no one I loved was trying to earn my love. They just loved me or they didn’t. It was not about tote boards and or keeping count. Not about reciprocation. I could never earn the love that I was given because love is a choice, not a reward. Read that again, love is not a reward.

You mean, the people in my life love because they want to and not because I support them to a fault, that I gave my body up to have their children, that I am such a great teacher and make math so easy. I can see the narcissism as I right. I can see how egocentric love is in this atmosphere and how abandoned I felt when others did not show up for me. I can see how this adult woman kept giving till she almost died trying to be the woman that would finally be loved or treasured by her children or by her students or by the men in her life.

Ouch- this is such a painful truth to realize. And exhausting! I drank to keep up with the demands of earning love. I drank to manage the anxiety and overwhelm. I drank to deal with the stress of 18 hours days filled with teaching, mothering and girl friending. I didn’t eat to maintain my physical beauty because if I didn’t watch my weight, then I would get fat. And if I got fat, I would not be loved. You mean I had to be a size 10 while I was saving the children of the future and rear my children to be more loved than I was ever loved as a child?

Photo by Ferenc Horvath on Unsplash

The inescapable truth is that I was always disappointed. My students were pre teen and teenage jerks trying to live their clumsy life and respecting me was not their priority. Doing math – not their priority. I made that about me as their teacher not acknowledging they are in charge of their own choices and they are going to do what they will without thinking about what I want even once. My children were clumsily trying to figure out their own lives and loving me was not their top priority. Read that again, my children’s number one priority is not loving me. It is loving themselves.

That one truth right there – their number one priority is loving themselves. No one ever taught me to do that. Or that loving myself was even a thing. The truth is – if I don’t love myself, I will always be looking to someone else to love me and it was never going to be enough.

My favorite part about my daughter is that she unapologetically will not do anything for others because she is supposed to. She decides each day what her priority is and who she chooses to love. She says no when she can’t show up and be herself and she often leaves places that are not ready to celebrate all of her, even it is my family of origin. She follows through on her commitments, but if you are not someone for whom she greatly loves, it probably won’t happen. And I absolutely love that about her. Yes, it stung as I was healing and there were many times I felt alone. But, I needed to heal myself in the last two years. I was going to heal my heart, not anyone else in my life. That was painful and incredibly lonely. The lonely parts were filled with tears, but I am no longer looking to others to meet my needs. I ask for help when I need it, but I climb into bed knowing I was there to take care of myself today and I will do it for myself tomorrow. I have climbed into bed so many nights wanting someone there to hold me. That is me now. I now treat myself the way I wanted others to. Turns out it was me all along. Sure as hell was never alcohol.

Originally written for Cathy’s blog: The Teacher Mom Alcohol Lie.

About the author:

Cathy.

I am a veteran teacher of 23 years and mother of two kids. One is grown and 24 years old, and the other is 14 years old. I got sober on August 11, 2020, after experiencing some scary blackout drunk moments during the pandemic. My anxiety at that point was through the roof, and increased anxiety medication was not helping. Out of desperation, I cut out alcohol. I did this seven days before school started and in August 2020. My first 100 days of sobriety were still filled with anxiety and insomnia. At that point, my body depended on alcohol to do either. It took till about Day 100 for that to begin to resolve. During, that time I got an addiction coach, I started therapy, and I joined the online sobriety community called The Luckiest Club started by Laura McKowen, author of We Are the Luckiest. I began my journey into acknowledging and healing the impact of my childhood trauma and my problematic drinking throughout adulthood. I began understanding the impact of generational trauma and began working to break the cycle. I started an online Facebook group supporting sober teachers because of the prevalence of alcohol offered as the only coping strategy to teachers. I started writing my recovery blog, The Teacher Mom Alcohol Lie in September 2020, and it became a vital tool in my recovery, processing all of my learning and healing. Through this work, I came to understand alcohol use disorder is a trauma response. I came to understand alcohol is an addictive substance and that using alcohol to cope is not a defect. It is a public health crisis in the United States and in the world. Many of the people I support in sobriety have a mother wound, and I’m still healing from mine. I am passionate about helping people shed the stigma of addiction and begin to understand their story of triumph in no longer using alcohol to manage their trauma and anxiety. As trauma and substance use disorder survivors, we are truly the bravest and strongest people I will ever know. I hope to become certified as a peer support person and shift to supporting people in recovery.