dying drunk to rising sober - Deborah dewar - my sober story

17 Year Old at Recruit Training - Australian Army

17 Year Old at Recruit Training - Australian Army

On 31 July 2017, I started a journey I had longed to claim I wanted. Sobriety.

However, the journey of how I came to be in Active Sobriety and breaking the cycle of absolute hell for all those around me is bloody dark. I took myself to the depths of a hell that I wish upon no one - EVER.

Coming from a long line of addicts of one kind or another - substance or emotional - the dependency I had developed was a learned behaviour, just as much as any genetics. My addiction, inherited or learned, took me to the brink of life and almost extinguished my inner fire forever. I hit the hard rock bottom of addiction within ten years of picking up the booze in a way that most would consider reasonable to them.

In 2007 - I was in a challenging marriage; we had begun to drink a glass of red or two together in the evenings with our dinner, tremendously grown-up us. It did help us to bond as we would relax, taking that edge off our shitty workdays. My then-husband was military-deployed overseas when our youngest was 18 months old. My daughter from a previous marriage was 7. This is where my drinking kicked up a notch.

I was working for my family's business. My mum and stepdad had started the business from scratch when I was 11. The company took valuable family time away from us in my younger years, so when I began working for them in my 20s after retiring from the Army, I felt that working for them was like making up for not having Mum around in my teens. My stepdad would intervene at this point and claim that I was never home in my teens - always jumping out of my window & leaving home for good at 15. Pushed or run, I was expected to care for myself physically, financially and emotionally from a young age.

By the time I turned 30, ten years of working in the family had begun to take its toll on me. The business had taken on massive growth over four years when my oldest sister and her husband bought into the company - resulting in us becoming one of the most extensive Gyprock Delivery services in SA. With a fleet of over a dozen trucks and a large staff to manage, my self-taught bookkeeping and business management skills were put to every test. In the process, I forever mediated between the business owners, who were also meant to be my "elders" within our family structure. It was hell on earth, emotionally taxed and drained every time the four owners called on me to assist with their whims. I would get home after a long day; that wine was so good. The first glass started when the kids were in the tub and dinner was cooking.

17 Year Old at Recruit Training - Australian Army. 1995.

When I read a bedtime story and put the babes to bed, I would be so excited to sit down and enjoy the peace with the rest of my bottle of red.

Fast forward to Feb 2014, I attended rehab at South Pacific in Curl Curl NSW twice, and I had tried to take my own life several times, with a few trips to ICU.

I had moved on from red wine and now drank hidden vodka or gin. My sobriety attempts never lasted longer than 100 days. Most were less than a month, and I lied about that until the second year into my sobriety - I lied out of shame. Shame is a bastard of a thing and can keep us locked into repetitive self-sabotage cycles.

2014 saw my marriage end brutally, and I took a massive hit financially. I relocated to Yamba, NSW, as it is my childhood home. I was born in Grafton and spent my childhood holidays with my loving grandparents in the Clarence Valley. Back in 2010, I thankfully had the sense to convince my parents and then-husband that we buy investment property here; years later, it would prove it was my & my babe's saving grace out of all of the chaos. However, I arrived here and decided that my drinking was because of my ex-husband, so I could start drinking "normally" again... Yeah - NO.

By Feb 2017, I was so deep in the addiction that drying out was getting harder and harder. Hiding my drinking was impossible - though most claim they had no clue. I was the most sneaky sneak when it came to my precious vodka. I entered into a relationship at that point where, to be honest, we were hella doomed. But something about this person I dated changed my thinking and perspective. It has also become apparent that my terrible physical symptoms were nearly impossible to control anymore.

On my final binge, I was working, though barely! I was functioning to a point where the only way I could operate for the day was to drink steadily throughout the day, but my 3rd trip to the hospital ER, where I would discharge myself, and when my adolescent son woke me up on a day when I couldn't remember what was going on, all. At the same time, I had a bottle of vodka under my pillow like it was my baby (I cringe writing this); I picked up the phone and made a call that freaking saved my life. I had reached my bottom and was asking for help.

My neighbour answered my call when everyone else had given up - or so I felt at that time and what follows is a succession of people and events that created the opportunity for me to make the change I needed finally.

When I reached my breaking point or rock bottom, I had consumed up to seven litres of vodka throughout the seven-day bender I was then on - this may have been more. I had also consumed a fair amount of prescribed Seroquel, Avanza and Duromine; exact amounts, to be honest, I could not tell you.

When I arrived at Currumbin Clinic on 2 August 2017, I had already been detoxing at home - which is extremely dangerous without medical supervision. I had burnt my throat, mouth and lips so badly from vomiting solidly for 36 hours. I was trembling to the point where I could barely stand, and the FOG in my brain was like no other. I was in fucking HELL and felt like I was going to die. By the time I got through admission and to my room, they had me dosed up big on Valium, and I cried like no other to a Nurse I will forever hold dear to my heart. I was a fucking mess, incoherent and beside myself, over who would take care of my Son and who would do all my work, that everyone hated me. I was so ugly and useless that I should die. This very patient nurse - very wisely took me by the hand, guided me into bed and tucked me in, where she held me tight for a moment and told me this:

She had my back, I was safe, and I could rest.

We can sort it all out together when I am well again.

Dying Drunk… the final days of addiction & the face of 2+years of Sobriety

Dying Drunk… the final days of addiction & the face of sobriety

They were precisely the words I needed to hear at that moment - it was the medical empathy I was so desperately craving & my body needing.

During my three-week stay at Currumbin Clinic, my inner fighter picked up that glint with the incredible support of my psychiatrist and his team of pros. It began a fire of passion within me - my sobriety.

Being the rebel I am, I did my type of recovery process, using all the available resources in the clinic - I made a RECOVERY PLAN for my future. I presented this to my Psychiatrist ten days into my stay.

My "manager" in me, who had been managing shit for others for a long time, was finally rising to the challenge of managing my addiction, and I was channelling her into my sobriety!! While this "future forecast of big dreams" worried some in my mental health team, it was the psychiatrist leading the team who made the switch of determination to prove that I was going to do this flick on inside me when he told me that he believed in me, that I was a knowledgeable woman. He encouraged me to walk my walk, which I talked about so much.

With my sobriety has come, too, the very many challenges, which, yes, all the health professionals warned me could occur. However, nothing now can compare to the challenge of getting sober, and I can tell you, I looked dead on in the eyes of the addiction demon when it almost snuffed my life. I was nearly sure I could not fight him. It took a retired neighbour, a mental health nurse & a Psychiatrist to give me enough fuel (their belief in me) to make that glint (called willpower) and grow it into a raging fire that burned that demon dead.

Being in recovery, I now add fuel to that fire through consistent therapy and check-ins with various online sobriety groups. This way, that fire within me keeps that addict demon dead.

It's pretty simple, really, but oh so hard to achieve.