Expat Life and Alcohol

I have chosen to remain anonymous because I am not yet ready to tell the world about my horrible and dangerous disease and we all know how small Switzerland is. I have only recently shared this with my immediate family and the only reason I did was because I had reached the point of either getting help or dying.  My daughters are still young so dying is not an option. They deserve better than this.  I did not bring them into this world to leave them motherless in a few years because of alcohol abuse.  I wanted to speak up because I know there are many of you out there who are in the same boat as I and are afraid to reach out and get help. If you think you have a problem you need to know that you are not alone.  There are many of “us” out there.   I didn’t have a problem back in college or graduate school. I partied like everyone else did, I didn’t drink everyday (nor alone), and I excelled academically.  Drinking was a social thing for me.  My problems came later on when life got more serious and settled (when I married and became a mother).  

I love being a mom.  My kids are my reason for living.  I would do anything for them!  Unfortunately I started to drown in my home life.  Laundry, cooking, cleaning, diaper changing, driving….there was no escape from my housekeeping duties.  Life wasn’t perfect with my husband either at times and that didn’t help. Being a SAHM (stay at home mom) or dad can be very isolating and lonely. My drinking problem started a few years ago when I would have a drink or two on some evenings (usually red wine).  I especially loved doing this while I prepared dinner.  Nothing wrong with that right?  I deserved it!  A small token after doing so much during the day and being stressed out with the kids and all of the activities I had to deal with.     As time progressed so did my drinking.  I went from one to two glasses a couple of nights during the week to several nights per week.  My alcohol intake advanced as well. One/two glasses were not enough anymore.  I reached the point (this year) where I’d end up guzzling a whole bottle and hiding the evidence from my husband deep down in the garbage bag.  My social drinking also changed: I’d continue drinking at home alone (behind my husband’s back) after we would return from a restaurant or party.  Something else I started doing? I’d chug a glass of wine while no one was watching and drink a new glass pretending to be one of them.  Yes…I would pretend to be a responsible and controlled drinker.  
A couple of years ago I started to wonder if I had a drinking problem.  Naah!  If I had a problem somebody would have pointed it out already right?  I thought: “I’m responsible. I take care of my kids and pay our bills.  I make playdates and medical appointments on time.  I’m doing my job!  I also don’t look like an alcoholic. My face isn’t red and puffy and I’m not living out of a box under a bridge, dressed up in rags. I don’t have the “shakes” or need a drink first thing in the morning.  How can I be an alcoholic?”     Oh! How I fooled myself into thinking I was normal through all of these thoughts and rationalizations!  The truth came loud and clear a few weeks ago when I got very drunk at a birthday party. I don’t remember much about the night (just little bits and pieces).  Apparently I lost it and went crazy when we arrived home. I made my girls cry that night because I had threatened to leave Switzerland (I said I would go away and never come back).  My husband had to get away from me so he left the house. My daughters started to call daddy on the phone because they thought he was going to leave them too.    After a couple of hours I ended up passing out on the couch and waking up at 2am.  I knew I had done something very bad.  I didn’t remember anything specific but I had the flashback of my girls crying big fat tears and my heart sank.  I was not able to go back to sleep and was extremely anxious the rest of the early morning.  That is when I said “enough is enough”. I knew I didn’t want to keep doing this anymore. I knew I was slowly killing myself and needed help.  So I made the decision to tell my husband about my secret drinking life and problem. I had no choice. I had wanted to do this before but I was afraid because to say the words “I am an alcoholic” is a very scary thing.  I was terrified but it was “do” or “die”.  I decided to choose life and get better for me and my family.