Mar 24, 2015 | By Tim Stoddart

Chrissy’s Story – How 10 Days In The Hospital Changed Her Life

Personal Addiction Recovery Stories

I used to wake up in the middle of the night dry heaving after hours of endless vodka shots and no food. I had convinced myself that the calories in each vodka shot were acceptable only if I had taken enough Adderall to suppress my appetite and enable me to fast all day. At first, I would sit at the rim of the toilet crying, promising myself that I would never drink again if I could just feel better. In the end of my addiction, I would be in the same spot on the bathroom floor, only then I would have a fifth of vodka sitting next to me so that I could take swigs in an attempt to ease my overwhelming physical withdrawals; that way I would be in close vicinity to the toilet for the first few gulps, which usually just came right back up. Shaking, sweating and pleading, I would continue that routine at the beginning of every day for longer than I care to admit. Unfortunately, that was only really the beginning of my demoralization.

My name is Chrissy and I am originally from Queens, New York. I was raised with the love of two virtuous parents and am the oldest of their three kids. Danny was born 5 years after me in Tampa, Florida and five years after that, while living in London, England, my sister Cassidy arrived. Three states and two countries later, my family settled in Scottsdale, Arizona. I remember that I thought moving around as a kid was exciting, but also experienced a great deal of anxiety about changing schools and making new friends. I never thought that I was good enough, so I always tried to change myself to appease the people around me. I wanted to fit in. I made myself like whatever everyone else liked so that I could be accepted by everyone else around me. Neglecting my own interests caused me to be resentful with myself, in fact, I think I started to hate myself for not being strong enough to create my own identity.

Related: Read Emilly’s Story

Despite moving around I always had consistent people in my life. Outside of my immediate family there was extended family and close family friends involved in our lives. I never felt a shortage of love and I knew that I had the support of so many good people in my world. My dad worked hard in his career and my mom stayed home to literally wait on me, my brother and my sisters every need. I got everything that I wanted; school trips to Europe, brand new car at 16, credit card linked to my parents bank account and I acted as if I was entitled to such good fortune; I thought I deserved it.

It was sophomore year of high school when I had my first sip of alcohol. I really shouldn’t say sip though, because the first time I drank I lost count of how many shots I actually took and ended up much like my story began, with my head in the toilet. I was violently sick all that night, as well as the next day, but the weird part was I still viewed it as a positive experience. I laughed as my friends and I recapped the night the following morning and liked that everyone seemed to think I was hilarious for getting so belligerently wasted. The rest of high school continued much the same. Every weekend I wanted to party and if there was nothing going on my mood would darken and I would be angry that I wouldn’t have a chance to drink. I often future tripped about how fabulous college would be, because I would be able to drink constantly then, after all that’s what college is for, right?

College is a blur. I started off at the University of San Francisco and ended up at Arizona State University. Over time, I showed up to class less and less, until I eventually fell far behind my friends in terms of graduation date expectancy. I had managed to get myself tangled in a co-dependent and extremely toxic long-term relationship and was living in a house with this fellow alcoholic/addict. Over time, I was going out to the bars with my friends less and less and was beginning to isolate in my house with my boyfriend so that we could drunkenly argue in private instead of out in public. I hated him, I hated my life and I hated myself. Still, I didn’t stop. I just kept drinking more and more. One morning I woke up and decided that I would do a 48-hour cleanse. I labeled such an abstinence from alcohol as this, because I thought that it sounded trendy and posh (which my delusional mind still perceived me to be). However, around half way through this cleanse my withdrawals became so severe that I was rushed to the emergency room when my legs went completely numb and I could no longer stand up. After lying to the doctors for the first few hours about my daily alcohol intake, they finally figured out that what I was experiencing was alcoholic neuropathy, which is severe nerve pain during detox. I mentally blocked out the next 10 days in the hospital. I’m not sure if that is because they were so physically painful, or emotionally unbearable.

Fortunately my first go at rehab stuck and I now have 4 ½ years sober. My sobriety date is November 5^th, 2010 and I work every day to keep it that. I am blessed enough to be finishing my masters degree in Addiction Counseling and am working at an incredible treatment center in Scottsdale as an Intern. I never thought I could go a single day without a drink, but God and Alcoholics Anonymous has empowered me to do just that…one day at a time.