Rock Bottom, Circa 2011

I was 28, when I woke up that Sunday morning. Coincidentally, it is barely Sunday morning as I write this. I woke up at home, in my bed, with my ex in his room across the hall. We had initially moved in as roommates.

A few days before, I had already hit bottom. I was at home then, too. I was angry with someone, and had decided, "This is it! I'm not taking any more!" I sat on the living room couch with all the lights on, texted him, and grabbed a dull wooden-handled Steakhouse knife from the kitchen drawer.

They were so quick, I had barely any time to begin. Off I went, to be evaluated by emergency services. I knew that I didn't want to die, but I didn't know how to live.

A man came to my bed; I still count my blessings for him. He worked for local behavioral services. He could tell that I needed help, let me go home under some conditions, and there I was. The soon-to-be-ex at home was so mad at the situation, I waited for a cab to go home. There weren't going to be any free rides for this drunk that night. 

One of my conditions was an out-patient program. I walked into the group on my first day, in shock. Everyone went around stating their first names, and what they were hooked on. Then they all stared blankly at me.

"Hey, I'm Carly, and I have a life problem."

Believe it or not, that night still didn't work for me. I figured I could drink around the urine tests and went out a few nights later - a Saturday, the 9th.

It was the bar where my boyfriend still worked, where I had worked previously. I went in, drank beers, danced my ass off, and started a fight.

I remember being walked out onto the street, but face planting in the road is foggy. The ride back is still unclear. I was driven home, and had to break into the downstairs bathroom to get inside.

When I woke up the next day, I felt more shame than ever in my life. Fuck the hangover; I could sleep that off. I went to get ready for brunch  - friends I could not cancel with. "Shit. Where did this black eye come from? How can I hide this? What will my excuse be?"

I found out about a relative passing the day after. It was completely unrelated but plagues me still. Someone I loved died, while I was throwing my life away.

I gave up that day. I waved my white flag, for the next 3 and 1/2 years. 

It was time to get to know myself again; I had to rewrite the script for my role in life.