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Justine: My Road to Recovery
Question: “How does one perform reverse alchemy, going from a normal newborn with almost unlimited potential to a diseased, depressed adult? How does one turn gold into lead?” (Felitti, 2002, p. 45).
Answer: Trauma.
The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study, conducted by the CDC and Kaiser Permanente (1995–1997) with over 17,000 participants, found a powerful, graded relationship between childhood trauma and adult health risks. It established that abuse, neglect, and household dysfunction (ACEs) are primary drivers of chronic disease, social issues, and early death. Almost two-thirds of study participants reported at least one ACE, and more than one in five reported three or more ACEs.
I am a statistic in many research journals regarding trauma, PTSD and CPTSD, as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and as a survivor of subsequent rapes in my teenage years and early adulthood. I am a statistic in many research journals regarding substance use disorder. I am also a statistic regarding recovery, recently celebrating 17 years on March 5th.
Growing up in Stamford, my first addiction was running as a kid. It silenced all my thoughts and relieved my suffering. It was my only escape, and I held onto it with everything I had. I drank my first sip of alcohol at eleven years old at a party. It felt like the answer to my suffering. However, at that point, I already had the dream of running in the Olympics. I was dedicated and committed to this dream, so I put this key into my back pocket, as something told me I would need it in the future. I began drinking alone over the weekends at the age of 16. I would drink at night after my track meets. Even though I won every race, I felt like I never ran fast enough; I should have always run faster. I was never good enough. Something I had been programmed to believe in as a kid.
I now understand that my addiction was my survival strategy, my self-prescribed medication, a brilliant adaptation mechanism to stay alive. Nothing numbed the pain of trying to stay alive during constant suicidal thoughts, nightmares, flashbacks, self-loathing, disgust, and shame, better than alcohol. My alcohol misuse was a desperate attempt at staying alive when all I wanted to do was end my life.
I earned a track scholarship to the University of Maryland, where I was going to soon be training for the Olympics. However, because of over exercising, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in my femur. I entered my freshman year on crutches, no longer being able to run for months. With this coping mechanism gone, I turned into a daily, blackout drinker. Alcohol became more important to me than my dream of running in the Olympics. I left college and moved to New York City, where I would experience withdrawal symptoms and seizures. I couldn’t start my day without drinking in the morning. I was hurting everyone around me.
One day, my twin sister and I went to Waveny Park in New Canaan, where I had spent so many hours running. This time I didn’t run. We sat on the grass. She began crying hysterically, as she had done so many times, out of fear and worry for me. In that moment, I felt her hurt. And I couldn’t allow myself to continue hurting my best friend. I went to treatment in the following days, for her. I got sober for her because I didn’t care about myself at all. At 21 years old, I went to a 28-day treatment center and then aftercare for 3 months. I got involved in a relationship while in treatment, which my sponsor told me not to do. I did it anyways and suffered the consequences of relapsing two years into my sobriety when we broke up.
My second attempt at treatment started again at age 23 at a 28-day treatment center, and stepping down to the next level of care for a year straight. Being in treatment for a year straight, door to door, built the foundation of recovery that I still rely on over 17 years later. I was fortunate enough to be given the gift to go to top tier treatment centers. I am aware that not everyone is this lucky. I am a firm believer in using and holding onto whatever gets you in the door of recovery. I entered treatment for my twin; I eventually stayed in recovery for myself. Ironically enough, my twin sister is eleven years sober, with my recovery igniting hers.
I got sober in treatment centers and in AA. I also seek a lot of outside help in the form of therapy, specifically EMDR therapy, a trauma-focused treatment, and medication prescribed by a psychiatrist. I continue to attend AA meetings.
For most of my life, I’ve been tormented by self-loathing and relentless thoughts to kill myself. Even in recovery. My art therapist at one of the treatment centers I went to once told me, “The only way out is through.” I continue to go through whatever struggles I experience, instead of escaping from them, or using maladaptive ways of coping. I never give up, no matter what. I continue to “Fall seven times and stand up eight.”
One of my inspirations in maintaining my recovery is a woman named Tonier Cain. Sexually abused as a child, a survivor of domestic violence, neglected and abandoned by her mother, she became addicted to crack. Over the course of 19 years, she was arrested 83 times, had 66 convictions, numerous hospitalizations, and was re-traumatized by the criminal legal system. She entered a treatment program where she was finally seen, heard, and validated. Where she was finally able to heal her trauma. I continue to live by her infamous quote that “Where there is breath, there is hope.”
Resources that have helped me in my recovery:
A Woman’s Way Through the Twelve Steps, by Stephanie Covington
