Christmas for alcoholics who are in rehabilitation clinic – 12/25/2023 – Life of an Alcoholic

I have been admitted to rehabilitation clinics six times. All for short periods, just for detox. The first was, without a doubt, the most striking. It was very difficult to accept that I needed to go through that. I drank excessively and this worried the people around me. But the possibility of hospitalization had never crossed anyone’s mind. Until there was no other way.

My illness accelerated absurdly after I was 27 years old. Today I know that it is progressive. One afternoon when I was secluded at my mother’s house, I found a bottle of gin and drank it all in less than 20 minutes. To justify the effect of alcohol, I lied and said that I was adapting to the new medicine.

The clinic was in São Paulo, in a house that looked like a grandmother. I spent a week and a day with a few other mentally ill people, but no alcoholics. I met people who suffered from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, suicidal ideation, morphine addiction, among other pathologies. They were harrowing days, not only because of the situation itself, but because my first nephew was about to be born and I didn’t want to be away from my family at that moment. I already felt well physically on the second day of hospitalization and wanted to leave. But the plan was to spend at least a week there.

My brother would come to see me — he and my father were the only ones who visited me — and he would say “take care of your recovery, the baby isn’t going to be born yet”. I remember that at the time he took me a book with a selection of stories that had appeared in Playboy magazine and the gift was blocked. He came in laughing, a little embarrassed. The book of chronicles had nothing to do with the content of the magazine, but it did not pass screening. I thought it was nice that he remembered to bring me a book and I felt a mixture of sadness and anger when I found out that it wouldn’t reach me.

My biggest challenge was calming down in isolation. I didn’t receive news about anything, I didn’t know what was going on with my mother, sister and everyone else. Then I met Nestor, a nurse who took care of the night shift. He noticed my distress and came to talk. I always found an angel inside each of these hospitalizations. And he, without a doubt, was one of them.

Nestor was sweet but firm. He spared no affection, nor lectures: Weren’t you drinking a lot out there? Can you remember the moments when he was with his mother, his brother and his sister-in-law who was pregnant? Now you cry about the possibility of depriving yourself of a birth. If you were outside, would you see this birth or would you be hallucinating around the city? That hit me like lightning. But was good. Important to give me a shake and think he had a point. Most likely, if I hadn’t been admitted, I wouldn’t have been around at the time of the birth.

Today is Christmas, I know that many alcoholics must be hospitalized with a feeling of failure and sadness (at least that’s what I felt), many families torn apart by the absence of that person. It hurts a lot because it is not a precise treatment. Hospitalization is no guarantee that everything will get better. I know this anguish well, it happens a lot in the disease of addiction. One day my doctor said to me: Alice, it is one of the most difficult diseases to have and to treat, so you need to believe me.

From that day on, things changed. I started to look at my treatment in a different way. It is not exact medicine. After what Nestor told me at the clinic, I accepted my condition as an intern more. Today I no longer stay away from the people I love, but I am aware that I was considered a lost cause for a long time, there were many attempts in vain. Nobody, including me, thought I could go back to being a “normal” person, live peacefully and leave my family in peace. But it worked. And if it worked for me, it will work for anyone, that’s what I always say in the AA room. My promise of better times is assured by my example.

I think anyone who goes through this needs to accept and believe in the days that follow. Other Christmases will come, other important moments will be lived with everyone together. It wasn’t a bad thing that my family admitted me, even though I received severe criticism from people very close to me. On top of that, society doesn’t deal well with the disease that I and thousands of other people have. The result of this is fear of exposure and judgment. But I’m here, free from alcohol, free from hospitalization, just for today. And that’s why I dedicate this column to everyone who is going through this situation on this day.

When I was writing the column, my best friend from AA sent me a message commenting on last week’s text and confided in me that he spent Christmas morning in the hospital, which completely ruined the party. And today he is a beautiful person, who teaches me a lot. For me, it is very important to say that there is a chance even when all the lights seem to be off. Is Christmas a memorable date? AND. But in the end, it’s just another day of struggle for an alcoholic and his family. It takes a lot of strength, a lot of affection and a lot of love.

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