As a queer alcoholic woman of color, I was never meant to have a voice in this world- as the socio-political construct is and has been. My story is unfortunately all too common. And recovery from the same kinds of things that have happened to me is not. My primary purpose is to be a bridge. To help others, especially alcoholics.
I am the daughter of two Brazilian immigrants, one of whom is an admitted alcoholic, and the other is alcohol-dependent with severe rage issues. My father had always been extremely verbally, emotionally, and sexually abusive to my mother. She was extremely suicidal and torn about how the love of her life turned out to not be the person she had made up he was in her head. He was kind when they met, and he brought her to America, but it was clear something was amiss. She had always had bouts of depression, and this was no different. Except now she was in a different country, with a man she was afraid of, and with her first child. She had devised a suicide plan: she would wait until I was asleep, and my father would be home in time to take care of me when I woke up, but not in time to save her life. She was going to slit her wrists and bleed out. She tested the blade on her hand to see if it was sharp enough to get the job done. She was covered in blood, and I walked in. She told me I said to her, "mommy don't do it," but I have no recollection of this. She realized then she had to stay alive for me.
Later that year, my father hit my mom for the first time. He beat her bloody and a neighbor in a different house heard it and called the police. He went to jail, and my mother got a restraining order and filed for divorce shortly after.
My mom didn't want me to not have the opportunity to have a father. She was certain he would never hurt me the way he hurt her, and unfortunately, she was wrong. I went to his house for weekends and school breaks. He would drink and beat us all. (He had more kids from other marriages, step-kids, and a godson he adopted). He broke my wrist and ripped the phone cord from the wall so I couldn't call for help, I had several concussions, I was pushed down the stairs, and so on. He was far more brutal on my brothers than me though.
When I was ten years old, the best thing ever happened to me. I got drunk for the first time! My brothers had stolen a bottle from my dad, and I remember going in the closet with them and being so incredibly fearful, which was usual for me. I thought he was going to find out, we would be punished, it couldn't be worth it. I was so wrong. I had that experience of the warmth filling my body and flooding my brain with pure joy and excitement. It was a spiritual experience. I no longer gave a fuck if my dad found out, I didn't care if I sounded stupid, and looked ugly, and what you thought of me. All the obsessive ruminations constantly invading my every thought. I was free at last, and it wasn't dependent on anyone. I thought, I need to feel this good forever!
Later that year, my brother (who gave me my first drink) overdosed and died. It was a surprise to almost everyone, but not to me. I knew he was sad like me and wanted out. I felt so guilty for not taking his suicidal threats seriously. I thought I could've made it different, I messed up so bad this time. He's gone and it's all my fault.
By the time I was going into high school, I was drinking daily. I had found my answer to life! But my answer had people alarmed. I drank as much as I possibly could for years and years. It allowed me to live up to my grandiose delusions on the barstool, or on the curb with a brown paper bag. And every consequence that came and went, added to my story I'd regail people with and a notch on the belt of being a bad ass and a misfit. Not meant for this world. Alcohol was the solution for the alcoholic brain. The only problem with it is that it's diminished returns. It doesn't work as a solution forever. By the time I was 19, I knew damn well that it didn't do "the thing" anymore. Which is, set me free from my mind. Eradicated the fears. I was constantly trying to kill myself at that point. I couldn't exist without alcohol. The condition was too intolerable. At that point, I had begun shooting heroin too. And then shooting alcohol. Every time I tried to drink it, I'd throw up blood. I needed it in my body.
I was homeless off and on, a prostitute to support myself, and constantly in trouble with the law. My mother's heart was broken, she was suicidal again too.
When I was 21, I got arrested 13 times in 6 months. I wasn't hip, slick, and cool like the addicts on the streets. I had no finesse to pull of schemes, and a conscience too big to do the other things they did. That's why I was a whore- I was only hurting myself. While in jail after finally going to court, I was offered either 3-5 years in prison or 1 year in treatment. This was a difficult decision for me.
I went to treatment in Brooklyn. Drinking as many times as I could between being released and getting admitted to treatment. It still wasn't working. While I was in there, I felt like I was going crazy. I got into fights, I had the cops called on me, I went to a psych ward... All without a drink! I really found out that problem centers in the brain, not in the bottle. After six months, I drank again. I thought surely it'll be different this time. I thought I could manage it. I was hell bent to prove I could drink like a normal person. Even though I had a prison sentence hanging over my head. No surprise, I couldn't. I walked around New York City crying my eyes out. Alcohol still was not working.
That was the last time I drank. 4 years ago. In AA, I wasn't getting enough relief to keep me alive until someone transmitted to me the 12 steps done daily. Every day, twice a day, along with transcendental meditation and whenever disturbed I take a written inventory. To get free of the self-centered fears and resentment in any given moment. Seriously, a more than sufficient substitute. I have gotten more relief from this brain sickness than I ever knew possible. All of the pain that I'm plagued by is unreality. Because it's not even the actual things that happened that are troubling me, it's my fear about it. (I have fear I'm a bad person, I have fear I'm too broken, I have fear I don't know how to do anything cuz no one showed me, etc.) And once the inventory is surrendered, the wreckage of the past, I can feel good. Because right here, right now, there is no problem! I am only bothered by the shit I'm making up. I am so grateful to have been given access to feeling good sober! And to not need anyone or anything to keep getting it. To keep getting conscious contact with all power.
The 12 steps are what has set me free from all of it. I did years of therapy in various forms, medications, rehabs, etc. None of it has healed any of the "trauma". It's all wreckage, that can be cleared away. And I've seen it bring great relief to all kinds of people, not just alcoholics. If you want to know what I'm talking about, and have an experience for yourself, I can show you. Ask Jack for my phone number.
I am so grateful to not be a victim anymore. All of the freedom from circumstance and the story of my life and what happened to me is nothing more than experience, strength, and hope for the next person. I have been set free by the 12 steps of alcoholics anonymous. Have been given a life worth living. I have deeply had the experience that NO ONE IS TO BLAME. And I need to be off the hook like that.
ISADORA
I am the daughter of two Brazilian immigrants, one of whom is an admitted alcoholic, and the other is alcohol-dependent with severe rage issues. My father had always been extremely verbally, emotionally, and sexually abusive to my mother. She was extremely suicidal and torn about how the love of her life turned out to not be the person she had made up he was in her head. He was kind when they met, and he brought her to America, but it was clear something was amiss. She had always had bouts of depression, and this was no different. Except now she was in a different country, with a man she was afraid of, and with her first child. She had devised a suicide plan: she would wait until I was asleep, and my father would be home in time to take care of me when I woke up, but not in time to save her life. She was going to slit her wrists and bleed out. She tested the blade on her hand to see if it was sharp enough to get the job done. She was covered in blood, and I walked in. She told me I said to her, "mommy don't do it," but I have no recollection of this. She realized then she had to stay alive for me.
Later that year, my father hit my mom for the first time. He beat her bloody and a neighbor in a different house heard it and called the police. He went to jail, and my mother got a restraining order and filed for divorce shortly after.
My mom didn't want me to not have the opportunity to have a father. She was certain he would never hurt me the way he hurt her, and unfortunately, she was wrong. I went to his house for weekends and school breaks. He would drink and beat us all. (He had more kids from other marriages, step-kids, and a godson he adopted). He broke my wrist and ripped the phone cord from the wall so I couldn't call for help, I had several concussions, I was pushed down the stairs, and so on. He was far more brutal on my brothers than me though.
When I was ten years old, the best thing ever happened to me. I got drunk for the first time! My brothers had stolen a bottle from my dad, and I remember going in the closet with them and being so incredibly fearful, which was usual for me. I thought he was going to find out, we would be punished, it couldn't be worth it. I was so wrong. I had that experience of the warmth filling my body and flooding my brain with pure joy and excitement. It was a spiritual experience. I no longer gave a fuck if my dad found out, I didn't care if I sounded stupid, and looked ugly, and what you thought of me. All the obsessive ruminations constantly invading my every thought. I was free at last, and it wasn't dependent on anyone. I thought, I need to feel this good forever!
Later that year, my brother (who gave me my first drink) overdosed and died. It was a surprise to almost everyone, but not to me. I knew he was sad like me and wanted out. I felt so guilty for not taking his suicidal threats seriously. I thought I could've made it different, I messed up so bad this time. He's gone and it's all my fault.
By the time I was going into high school, I was drinking daily. I had found my answer to life! But my answer had people alarmed. I drank as much as I possibly could for years and years. It allowed me to live up to my grandiose delusions on the barstool, or on the curb with a brown paper bag. And every consequence that came and went, added to my story I'd regail people with and a notch on the belt of being a bad ass and a misfit. Not meant for this world. Alcohol was the solution for the alcoholic brain. The only problem with it is that it's diminished returns. It doesn't work as a solution forever. By the time I was 19, I knew damn well that it didn't do "the thing" anymore. Which is, set me free from my mind. Eradicated the fears. I was constantly trying to kill myself at that point. I couldn't exist without alcohol. The condition was too intolerable. At that point, I had begun shooting heroin too. And then shooting alcohol. Every time I tried to drink it, I'd throw up blood. I needed it in my body.
I was homeless off and on, a prostitute to support myself, and constantly in trouble with the law. My mother's heart was broken, she was suicidal again too.
When I was 21, I got arrested 13 times in 6 months. I wasn't hip, slick, and cool like the addicts on the streets. I had no finesse to pull of schemes, and a conscience too big to do the other things they did. That's why I was a whore- I was only hurting myself. While in jail after finally going to court, I was offered either 3-5 years in prison or 1 year in treatment. This was a difficult decision for me.
I went to treatment in Brooklyn. Drinking as many times as I could between being released and getting admitted to treatment. It still wasn't working. While I was in there, I felt like I was going crazy. I got into fights, I had the cops called on me, I went to a psych ward... All without a drink! I really found out that problem centers in the brain, not in the bottle. After six months, I drank again. I thought surely it'll be different this time. I thought I could manage it. I was hell bent to prove I could drink like a normal person. Even though I had a prison sentence hanging over my head. No surprise, I couldn't. I walked around New York City crying my eyes out. Alcohol still was not working.
That was the last time I drank. 4 years ago. In AA, I wasn't getting enough relief to keep me alive until someone transmitted to me the 12 steps done daily. Every day, twice a day, along with transcendental meditation and whenever disturbed I take a written inventory. To get free of the self-centered fears and resentment in any given moment. Seriously, a more than sufficient substitute. I have gotten more relief from this brain sickness than I ever knew possible. All of the pain that I'm plagued by is unreality. Because it's not even the actual things that happened that are troubling me, it's my fear about it. (I have fear I'm a bad person, I have fear I'm too broken, I have fear I don't know how to do anything cuz no one showed me, etc.) And once the inventory is surrendered, the wreckage of the past, I can feel good. Because right here, right now, there is no problem! I am only bothered by the shit I'm making up. I am so grateful to have been given access to feeling good sober! And to not need anyone or anything to keep getting it. To keep getting conscious contact with all power.
The 12 steps are what has set me free from all of it. I did years of therapy in various forms, medications, rehabs, etc. None of it has healed any of the "trauma". It's all wreckage, that can be cleared away. And I've seen it bring great relief to all kinds of people, not just alcoholics. If you want to know what I'm talking about, and have an experience for yourself, I can show you. Ask Jack for my phone number.
I am so grateful to not be a victim anymore. All of the freedom from circumstance and the story of my life and what happened to me is nothing more than experience, strength, and hope for the next person. I have been set free by the 12 steps of alcoholics anonymous. Have been given a life worth living. I have deeply had the experience that NO ONE IS TO BLAME. And I need to be off the hook like that.
ISADORA