Alcoholism

July 15, 2022

Good morning, Dear God. It’s my niece’s birthday, and I can’t believe she’s twenty—seven years old. Where did the time go? Happy birthday Yasmina (baby-gir).

I was telling you about my introduction to the fellowship Jesus. My second meeting was at a lecture hall at Harvard University. As I entered the hall, I noticed only men were in the meeting. I saw that these men talked about their lovers. I thought they were compassionate and so loving regarding their wives. So I thought, Wow, men have feelings? Then they had a break during the meeting. Many were gay, and I didn’t know it was a men’s gay meeting. They let me stay in the hall. At break time, I saw the men touching each other’s butts. They were kissing other men. I left the meeting feeling like wanting a drink when I got home. I was craving alcohol and couldn’t wait to get drunk again. I suffered from Post Traumatic Disorder (PTSD) from childhood memories during those days. PTSD kept me paralyzed until I had that first drink. The memories of child sexual abuse and abandonment issues because my parents gave me up for adoption. I was desperate to see my siblings. Yes, I was drinking alcoholically because the abuse kept giving me nightmares and day terrors, and I justified my right to drink. The pain of my past kept me drinking alcoholically. So I thought.

I was still under the age of twenty-one, living on my own. The Department of Youth Services DYS kept giving me services like Christena. She was my case worker. Christena is a beautiful woman who I could trust. She was at least twenty-seven years old. She would invite me to her apartment for dinner. Then she wanted to put makeup on me. She shaped my lips with red lipstick to make them appear bigger, blush on my face, then Christena put mascara on my eyelashes. I looked so different. Because I always wore black makeup and black clothes, I was gothic before it became popular in the nineties. Christena finished putting makeup on me. I liked it. She made me feel like a princess and told me I looked beautiful. Because of all the snow, we get here in Boston and the freezing weather, I only wore a long leather coat, where I had two long pockets to hide my beers, knife, and cigarettes. Christina gave me a black fur coat, so I would not freeze anymore. Christina was gentle with me. She was the best case worker that I ever had. I felt like her little sista. She made me feel important, knowing I was drinking my pain away. I told Christina everything about my life because I could trust her completely. She listened intensely and didn’t judge me. After working with me for four years, Christina told me she was in love and she was getting married. That broke my heart. I was confused. Then I never saw her again. I wish her well. Thank you, Jesus, for Christina in my life. She is an incredible woman who taught me some life skills. Whenever Christina saw my cheerios box where I shoved one liter of vodka down the box, that’s when Christina suggestion to attend at least two meetings a week. She didn’t want to scare me, so I only had two meetings a week I could do, but when I got to the meeting, Christina never showed up. She had a meeting with DYS concerning me. Jesus, thank you so much for Christina. She taught me self-care and how I can be honest with her. She never told DYS about my drinking and the pain I was experiencing, which was unbearable.

Drinking the pain away was my escape. I loved drinking initially, but I became a real alcoholic by the time I was twenty-one. Not happy with that conclusion of being an alcoholic, but I wasn’t ready for those meetings. I was too young to be an alcoholic, so I kept drinking. Have a lovely day. Jesus, thank you for protecting me during my drinking days. I love you, love me.