Text by Joy Arnold, Copyright 2022
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Putting Down the Shovel
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The last time I wrote an essay attached to TW’s photos it was about my past, present and future as a dominatrix. This time I’m writing about my journey as an alcoholic of the hopeless variety (don’t worry, it has a happy ending).
I picked up my first drink when I was 16 years old, stealing from my parents’ liquor cabinet and pouring small amounts of everything I could reach into a beer stein. I choked it down to make my high school boyfriend, who called himself “Tdhe Italian Stallion,” more tolerable. I vomited it all onto the carpet, made him clean it up, and then take me to a diner. I wouldn’t and didn’t pick up another drink for a couple years after that.
During my senior year of high school I tried marijuana for the first time. It didn’t take long to go from smoking a couple joints before class to becoming my full time hobby. Coming home stoned every day and disregarding my responsibilities led to more tension between my parents and I than I care to admit. My high school career came to an end and I went to a party down the street from my house; this was the first time I drank “alcoholically.” I used excessive drinking to calm the anxiety that came with being around so many people I hadn’t associated with in previous years.
From 2015 on I drank with the sole purpose of getting as humiliatingly hammered as humanly possible. It never occurred to me that there was any other way of consuming alcohol and since I dated a musician for the majority of my early twenties, it was commonplace to drink alcoholically. I would frequently bring bottles of vodka and wine to parties and they would be “my” beverages, because the Pabst Blue Ribbon and Miller High Life wouldn’t cut it. I spent many mornings kneeling in front of the porcelain throne, vowing never to drink that much ever again. But hey, I maintained having jobs, paying the rent and was reasonably happy so I didn’t think it was that bad. Besides, it was nothing that greasy corner store Chinese food and a few joints couldn’t fix.
The first time I admitted I was an alcoholic was the day of my grandmother’s funeral in 2017. I delivered her eulogy with the smell of Fireball emanating from every one of my pores in the church I was baptized in. My mom told me she slapped me across the face when I came home drunk the night before and had tried to convince my younger cousin to drink with me. I didn’t remember any of it. If I’m being honest with myself I was always a black out drunk and rarely remembered my escapades.
I moved to Philadelphia in 2019. That year, in good alcoholic/addict fashion I convinced myself that I wasn’t an alcoholic. Because I lost my ID on a bike ride, couldn’t buy my own liquor and went a long period without drinking I declared myself “non-alcoholic.” Never mind that I was smoking a half ounce of weed each week. When I started work at a bike shop in Center City I would have after work beers which led me to hang out with fellow cyclists down at the Foodery on Sansom St. I would stay out until the wee hours of the morning drinking countless craft beers, brown liquor and smoking way too many Newports. It wasn’t long before hanging out with “friends” became a miserable habit I didn’t know how to stop. No matter what my intentions were, I somehow found myself at the same place with the same losers doing the same thing everyday.
On March 23, 2022 I was preparing for court on a DUI that thanks to COVID had been lingering for the past two years. I didn’t know what to do but I knew where I could go because I had attended a couple twelve step recovery meetings the previous Fall in a vain attempt to get sober. I stepped into a twelve step recovery meeting and I said a prayer. “God, if you can help me get out of this DUI without much damage, I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to get sober, I want to change so badly.” The next day I went to court and the entire case was dismissed and I haven’t taken a drink since. It took a little more “research” to realize that I had to be completely free of all mind altering substances and I gave up marijuana soon after. Now I’m free.
They say that your rock bottom is whenever you put down the shovel and I put mine down on April 8, 2022. With a little under 8 months clean and sober of all substances I’m living a life beyond my wildest dreams. I gained the confidence to try all sorts of new things like moving into my first apartment, going into temporary retirement as a dominatrix, saying goodbye to the relationship I had held onto for way too long, and gaining a new healthier one. I pay all my bills on time and I advocate for myself when I need to change something in my life. It’s only by practicing what I’ve learned in the twelve step recovery program, helping others, and straightening out spiritually that I am to maintain all the blessings I have today. Getting sober hasn’t changed who I am at my core, but it gives me the opportunity to be a better version of myself and for that, I’m truly grateful.
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To access additional articles by Joy Arnold, click here: https://tonyward.com/joy-arnold-from-russia-with-love-part-1/