May Ten Continue

By
John Robenalt
Tell us about your (or your loved one's) recovery journey. What has been the most rewarding part?

My journey is 10 years and counting. I have yet to publicly share my thoughts and stories. Though I feel a need to reach out and share what got me here. Every story has a begining here's mine.

As May 9 became MAY 10, 2009

The night before I had gone off on what would be my last drunk. I drank to the point of blacking out. A blackout is a state of drinking where ones memory shuts off, motor skills and verbal skills are still functional and yet the drinker has no recognition of the events while blacked out. This had become my norm, since my first real drunk back in 2005. I made a pattern of blacking out.
The night of March 8, I had gotten sick and I don't remember throwing up yet in the morning it was clear I had. When I finally came downstairs my mom had an ultimatum ready for me. She'd reach her final straw, and she saw no cure for me other than to share what I was doing to myself and the family. We talked for over an hour but what stuck with me was when my mom said, "If you want to drink go right ahead, but do it on your own. I won't live with someone who does this! I'll help you move out."
That point of the conversation came after a stern lecture and was followed by tears. I saw she wasn't kidding. The joke was over. This was serious and she was ready to kick me out. I had to get to work but I couldn't shake this feeling that I was gonna come home and be uninvited. I thought for sure I'd be out on the streets in no time.
The next night, I came down to the kitchen around 2:00 a.m. I was listening to Losing My Way by Justin Timberlake on repeat. I was home but I was lost and thinking of all the nights I couldn't remember and for the first time in my life I felt completely hopeless. Here I was a kid given every opportunity and I'd thrown it away for a beer. My life had revolved around the next beer, and my life was one drunk after another. I was a shell, and yet there in my misery I felt hope. With tears streaming down my face, sobbing along to the song, I felt something I can't explain. This feeling that I'd lost my way, wandered and allowed myself to be mislead and yet change could happen. It felt as though I wasn't alone. Yet there I was sitting on my kitchen floor with no one around.

Do you have a message for the Shatterproof community?

Thank you for giving me a platform to share my story!