Personal Narrative: The Trouble With Alcohol Abuse

Growing up, I dealt with a mother who struggled with addiction; to be unambiguous, she was an alcoholic. She drowned in her alcoholism as it pulled her down an alarming road. She was dreadfully depressed and believed that alcohol was the only way to make her feel better, addiction blinded her from what a great life she could have ahead of her. Not a single member of our family knew how to help her comprehend how much happier she would be if she could stop drinking her sorrows away. When it came to family events, my mom would try to conform to how others were acting and act “sober” even though she was already countless drinks deep in to drinking. Nevertheless, my mother just wanted others to like her which would lead her to change her outward

Several years ago I was in an abusive relationship. I was in this relationship for six years. I suffered mental anguish and developed esteem issues. Although, that abusive relationship affected me negatively, I had to believe that I would get better. Adverse situations can cause long lasting issues. However, it is very possible to overcome those difficulties with positive reinforcement during times of adversity (Cicchetti, 2010). In order to turn my negative situation around, I used a support group and meditation. I gained my strength by talking to people who had experienced the same problem. The meditation helped me gain peace of mind and clarity.

My relationship with drugs first began during my senior year of high school. While most of my peers attended their first parties years earlier, my first was not until I was already 17 years old. I still remember feeling so cool for attending my first party and having my first sip of alcohol. The feeling of being drunk was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I felt liberated, like I could break out of my quiet shell and be that fun, goofy person that everyone wanted to hang out with. Prior to this night I had never used any type of substance, legal or illegal. Since then I have continued using alcohol while also trying various different types of drugs including caffeine, marijuana, tobacco, and adderall.

So I attended the AA (alcoholic anonymous) meeting of a group called Choices Group from the KCB club on November 13th, 2015 at 2:30 PM. This AA meeting was held at the location of 5715 W. Alexander Rd.//Leon Ave. Although they meet everyday, this was the best day for my schedule. What I liked is that right away, I got in touch with the meeting organizer named Laura and she was more then willing to let me sit in in one of the meetings. Even over the phone I could feel that she was a nice person and when I met her I was not wrong. She has purple hair and such a bubbly personality. For starters, I always thought everyone would sit around in a circle but that was not the case in this meeting. There were tables where people can sit as well as some back chairs with no tables. When I arrived, Laura told me to sit in the back and when we go over people’s names to say that I was a visitor, that unfortunately never happened. It was around 2:27 PM and there was roughly 10 people there. As it got closer to 2:30 PM a bus showed up and that is when the rest of the people showed up. Roughly 45 people were there and the meeting started.

As I pulled up and parked I checked in with myself to see how I was feeling. I was extremely nervous that I would stand out like a sore thumb. I have never been to a meeting before and I didn’t know if everyone had to speak or if there would be some sort of role call where everyone would need to introduce themselves and state they were an alcoholic and how long they had been sober. I was quite concerned that I would make some sort of social faux pas since I didn’t know the rules.

Although, I am now reaching the age of where most people are starting to think of retirement and looking back at what they had accomplish compared to what they did not. I am looking forward to having two master’s degrees this year, and starting my own substance abuse clinic in my community. At this time, I am a social worker for Child Protective Service of West Virginia, and a youth service worker also. At this time West Virginia is rated the ninth highest rate of prescription drug abuse in the nation among 18 to 25 year olds (Raby & Mattise, 2015). As of now the West Virginia legislation has passed a bill that will allow for Narcan to be purchased over the counter in pharmacies (Raby & Mattise, 2015). The rates of overdose deaths continue

On Wenedsday August 25, 2015 at 12:00pm, I went to an AA meeting on 570 Karl road, Columbus, Ohio, Cristian church. The people were very welcoming , they started by reading the 12-stepfellowship. They recite their prayer and each menbers introduce themselves as an alcoholic. It is amazing to see how the group interct among each other freely probably without any concern of being discriminate or being judge.

I would like to say I’m sorry to you for my behavior on Friday evening; however, I am worried about you and it upsets me that you keep drinking.

After I got there, the meeting was called to order by the person in charge of the meeting. The man read some things that were in a book, I do not know what it really know what the book was called. Then three of the people that were there for the meeting also reads something to the group. The person in charge of the meeting then asked if there were any newcomers or people attending that particular meeting for the first time who care to introduce themselves only by their first name. Next the person in charge of the meeting made some announcements about AA and the days and times that they have meeting at their location. Then finally, the person in charge of the meeting began to talk on the topic. After everyone who wanted to share, they allowed the

I dove through the cold currents, feeling my hands create an opening through the water. I closed my aching eyes and let the water submerge me, pulling me in. The sun cast shadows on the floor of the pool, shifting every now and then. I could feel the warmth of the sun as I swam further. I sighed, deeply content.

I opened my eyes and looked up to see the bars above me and the suffocating smell of chalk filled my lungs as all eyes peered down at me. I was 8 and being in a situation as extreme as this without your parents is pretty difficult. I was at gymnastics camp in Pennsylvania 4 hours away from my parents. I had no phone and no way of contacting them except through letters. This was my second year at the camp and I loved it. I was on bars trying a squat on jump to high bar which I had previously done by myself. I fell in a funny way and landed on my arm so perfectly that it broke. A complete piece of my elbow broke off. I was rushed to the hospital.

Whenever you were stressed, depressed, or wanted to escape this living hell, you would take a sip.

Yes, I did encounter a problem early in my career when I was a licensed practical nurse (LPN). I had one-year experience as an LPN and was working on an oncology unit where functional nursing (task nursing) was utilized. Consequently, there was this charge nurse (CN) named Candy, whom I liked, because she was a short, friendly, plumped, energetic and beautiful long red hair. She seemed knowledgeable in her field and I had a lot of respect for her. Thereby, realizing her knowledge base, I often utilized her as a resource person to provide me with the correct policy and procedures. Also, she was friends with the director of nursing, the unit secretary, and one of the supervisors.

"A Beer please." I recited to the bartender, sliding into a creaky old stool. I kept going over everything in my head, trying to figure out who -or what- was doing all these killings here in Chicago. So far I've labelled it down as something supernatural, and the victims, they were missing their hearts. As I sat here, I over heard a man asking about the victim whom worked here. I couldn't quite make out of what he was saying over the noise, but he didn't just sound like a curious person in town.

For the first time all night, I had no idea what to do. Light from the trio of bulbs on the front of a deputy’s Impala swept over me and washed away the indecision; I put my hands up haphazardly by my shoulders. Someone had to brave the chill in the driveway to meet the cops. It was only polite, we had called them after all. As boots crunched out of the footwell and onto the gravel, the night’s events that had coalesced into this moment tried to stick to my brain one last time…