Growing up, my father had always pushed me to be my best. He got me into playing the piano, the violin, soccer, swimming, diving, lacrosse, running… you name it. Whether we were playing instruments together, dancing, or playing sports, my father and I were always spending time with one another.
As I grew older and started to make friends, I realized that my father acted differently from my friends’ parents. It wasn’t until middle school that I figured out alcohol is what made him so different from other parents; but I loved him none-the-less.
During sixth grade, my friend Alex and I were getting a ride from my dad to a middle school movie night. On our way there, we were pulling up to a red light when my dad showed no signs of slowing down. From the passenger seat, I reached over and yanked the wheel, putting us in the turning lane and saving us from ramming the rear end of the stopped car in front of us.
That very night, I had snuck out into my father’s car and smashed the bottle of vodka that he kept hidden under the drivers’ seat. Within the next week, I had written my father a long letter stating every reason why I wanted him to stop drinking and smoking. In the letter, I told him that I wanted him to see me graduate college, walk me down the aisle, and live to see my 40th birthday.
Two years later, on a Monday night of November 2011, my dad and I had the house to ourselves to we decided to take advantage. We ordered in Chinese and watched the Celtics game. After dinner, my dad had asked me if I wanted to play cards with him. I went into him room to go get the deck of cards, that was when I heard a loud thump. I walked out to the living room to see my fathers’ hand face up on the ground. I ran over an immediately realized what had happened- he had collapsed.
I immediately grabbed my phone out of my pocket and called 911. I was told by the 911 operator that an ambulance was on the way and was instructed to perform CPR. It felt like hours before the ambulance showed up. When the paramedics arrived on site, they escorted me out of the house and instructed me to call my mom who was working late. I finally got a hold of her, she raced home and we went to the hospital.
When we got to the hospital, we were immediately taken into a private waiting room where a doctor met with us to give us the news. He informed us that my fathers’ heart could no longer function on its own, as he had suffered a massive heart attack and that we should head to his room to say our final goodbyes.
A few months later, I was put into grief counseling. However, I don’t think I had fully digested the loss and was not able to get much out of the counseling.
When I had entered high school, I started to grieve over my father. To cope with that loss, I started to become more involved with soccer. I was playing on the girls’ varsity soccer team and was traveling all over the east coast, playing in tournaments and college showcases with my travel team.
In my junior year of high school, I was in Maryland for a soccer tournament when I endured a back injury that would end my soccer career all together. The loss of that coping mechanism had pushed me into a depression.
Later that school year, I went through some relationship troubles. I was losing my soccer friends, I was fighting with my boyfriend, and I was not getting along with my mother. Finally, it was a breakup with my boyfriend that ultimately pushed me over the edge.
The few months after the breakup with my boyfriend at the time, I started to hang around the wrong crowd. Getting involved with the wrong crowd made it easy for the rest of the residents of my small hometown to label me as something I wasn’t. If everyone was labeling me as a dirt-bag, might as well give them a reason to call me that…
I grew an addiction to Xanax very quickly. It was easy for me to hide my depression and anxiety behind a zombified persona. I lost myself very quickly and became someone that I don’t recognize to this day- I was stealing from friends and family, I wasn’t motivated to live.
After about six months of living like a zombie, my mother had started to notice I wasn’t myself. One day, after not coming home for three days straight, my mom took me to the hospital to do a drug test. From that day, she took a more active stance in my life to make sure that I was headed in the right direction.
It wasn’t until my mom started to pay attention to my drug addiction, when I realized that was part of what I had been yearning for- someone to give a shit. I admitted myself into an outpatient program and started my drug rehabilitation.
Trying to better myself in a small town was very difficult. I had to remove myself from my friends for a while, everyone in the town knew my business and they all assumed one thing or another about you.
About a month after becoming sober, there were rumors circulating around the school about me- “I was a heroine user”, “I was a prostitute for drugs”, “I was steeling peoples’ watches” …the rumors go on. Someone actually believed the heroine rumor so much they took it upon themselves to have a sit-down talk with my mother about it. Many teachers looked down upon me, as they saw the potential I had and believed that I was wasting my knowledge.
This made my recovery even harder. If I was trying so hard to get sober but all of my family, fellow classmates and teachers thought I was on drugs, then what was the point? Might as well live up to their rumors, right? I would walk down the school hallways to feel the stares of my judgmental classmates. This did not help my anxiety what-so-ever, so why go to school? I began consistently missing full days, coming in late, or going home early. It got to the point where my graduation was in danger due to my absences.
I voiced my thoughts on this to my mom, my school psychologist and my drug counselor- all of which totally understood the situation. We all decided that my main problem was the people that I was surrounded with on a daily basis- constantly putting me down and reminding me that I was “less-than”.
It was hard few months, but I had to keep reminding myself what was truly important. It did not matter if my whole town thought that I was the biggest dirt-bag, I knew that I had to do this for myself.
Months later, I would find myself walking across the stage of graduation. It felt like it would never come. But I had finally done it! I was done with that school, those students and that faculty and I couldn’t be more excited- it was time for me to take the next step towards my future.
Getting out of that toxic environment was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I am currently in my junior year at Stony Brook University. I am studying Civil Engineering, following in my fathers’ footsteps. I still struggle with anxiety and depression, but I have learned healthy coping skills that have been successful for me thus far. I have been sober for three years and I have not looked back since. This summer I will be interning at the Brookhaven National Laboratory (where my father used to work), designing my very own parking lot for their new administration building!
As much as I would love to leave the past in the past, I have found myself reflecting on the situation as a whole. Looking back, I don’t think I ever envisioned everything working out as well as it did for me. I wish I could go back and tell my high school self that things DO get better and they are never as bad as they seem, no matter what people are telling you.
My biggest take-away from my whole entire situation is the importance of a support system. Even through the loss of my father and my addiction, I had people that could look past my mistake and guide me in the right direction. It didn’t matter that most of the town was putting me down because I had a group of people in my corner, rooting for me, willing to help me through it- that made all the difference.
Going forward, remind yourself that your past does not define you and there is always room for improvement. Also, if you have a friend that is suffering from an addiction, reach out and be there for them- remember, addiction is not a choice, it is a disease.
