Content warning: This story includes discussion of suicide that may be distressing to some readers.
Three years ago on this day, I walked through the doors of a treatment facility located on the Northern Beaches of Sydney, a broken human.
My mind was foggy, and the leftover stale taste of cigarettes permeated my mouth. Was last night’s bottle (or two) of red wine really the last drop of alcohol I would ever consume? At this point I wasn’t so sure.
I’d agreed to go to rehab in the hopes that I would learn how to "drink like a lady", because a life of complete abstinence wasn’t something I was ready to accept.
As I sat on the end of the hospital bed watching the nurse search through my belongings for what I assumed must be concealed alcohol, or anything I could use to harm myself, I pondered the question, "How did I get here?"
Last week I was working my executive job at one of the world’s largest beauty organisations, and now I’m handing my life over to the care of a medical team who will be monitoring my every move for the next three weeks.
On one hand, the contrast seemed sudden and shocking, but if I’m to be completely honest with myself, I hadn’t been well for a really long time.
The problem was, I’d become a such a master at wearing a mask and projecting to the world that everything was fine, that I couldn’t even see the signs myself. I’d spent the best part of two decades hiding behind a smile, until finally it all came crashing down.
Watch: Your body, one year without alcohol. Story continues after video.
I grew up in an alcoholic home with my parents and my older brother. From a very young age, I took on the role of peacemaker within my family system, always making sure everyone was ok. If my parents had a fight and my dad stormed out, I would sit with my mum, consoling her until she stopped crying. I was three.
This environment left me feeling unsafe and uneasy as a child. As a result, I quickly learnt to become a chameleon, changing myself to whoever I needed to be, based on who I was around at the time. The more I shapeshifted and abandoned myself, the more disconnected I became to my true self.
By the time I reached high school, I had no idea who I was. My identity was curated by my achievements, which meant I was a perfectionist who sought approval through accolades.
Yet no matter how well I did academically or in performing arts, my inner critic would always tell me I wasn’t enough. I developed a fundamental core belief that “I’m not enough”, and the itty-bitty shitty committee that lived inside my head became progressively louder.
That was until I discovered alcohol.
At age 12, I drank alcohol for the first time and everything felt peaceful. I had finally found that sense of ease and acceptance that I’d been searching for.
From that very first drink, I wanted more of it. I didn’t want it to end. This set off a chain of events that would see me struggle with alcohol addiction for the next two decades.
I was what you would call a "high-functioning" alcoholic, meaning that I was able to show up to life and hold down the externals such as a job and a relationship, but the truth was I was slowly dying on the inside.
Nobody thought to worry about my drinking because I was ticking off all of life’s boxes; I’d gotten married, bought a home in Bondi, and I was being promoted at work. But what they didn’t see was those four nights a week I was drinking to black out.
Listen: On this episode of The Quicky, Mamamia's daily news podcast, we explore what life is like for a recovering alcoholic. Story continues below.
The turning point came in 2018 when, two weeks before my wedding day, my fiancé’s brother took his own life. The grief was more than I could handle and I turned to the only thing I knew that would numb the pain. It was on this day that I became a dependent daily drinker.
I would wake up every morning, with a head-splitting hangover, promising myself I wouldn’t drink again that day - yet without fail, I’d have a drink in my hand as soon as I’d finished work.
Somehow, throughout the day, my mind would find a way to justify having just one drink. The problem was, once I had one drink, I couldn’t stop.
After two years of daily drinking, I reached rock bottom. I couldn’t live with alcohol and I couldn’t live without it. My marriage was falling apart, my health was deteriorating, and I’d lost myself completely.
The panic attacks had gotten to a point that I was being hospitalised, yet the solution offered to me at the time was medication, never sobriety. The thought of giving up alcohol forever terrified me. Yes, alcohol was slowly destroying my life, but I’d also come to believe it was the only good thing I had left.
What would my life be without alcohol? I simply couldn’t imagine it. All I knew was that I was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, so I reached out to my family and asked for help.
On the 24th of February 2020, almost two years to the day since I’d become a daily drinker, I walked into South Pacific Private and made the decision to change my life forever. I haven’t picked up a drink or a drug since that day, which is nothing short of a miracle.
Rehab was the circuit breaker I needed to be able to distance myself from alcohol, to clear my head and be open to receiving treatment. At the hospital, I was exposed to intensive therapy guided by a team of psychiatrists, psychotherapists, doctors and nurses. I was given the space I needed to process my trauma and free myself from the limiting beliefs I’d been holding onto.
They say the real work begins when you leave rehab, and that’s certainly been my experience. In the three years since my departure, I’ve undergone a number of significant life changes including a divorce, a move back to my hometown of Melbourne, and a completely new career.
I’ve had moments of emotional pain that have felt unbearable, but I’ve never picked up a drink. What I now know is that alcohol will never be the solution to my problems. It will only make things worse, never better. When I’m in those moments of discomfort, I remind myself that this too shall pass.
Today, at three years sober, I can honestly say I’m the most content I’ve ever been. The peace and acceptance I’d been chasing as a little girl now flows in and out of my life today with ease.
What sobriety has given me is the opportunity to reconnect with myself and form a loving relationship.
I now have a life I no longer want to escape from.
Ashleigh Butterss is the executive producer and host of Behind The Smile – a recovery podcast designed to expose and remove the stigma around mental health, trauma and addiction.
With a background in journalism, Ash is passionate about sharing people’s stories and fearlessly believes that we can normalise the conversation through awareness, education and participation.
Featured image: Instagram/@ashbutterss