By Grace
Addiction is a bitch. I can tell you one thing—it isn't always easy to spot it from the outside looking in. And that's coming from a girl who was really good at hiding it.
I come from a family and community where alcohol is normalized. Although my parents never let me drink under the age of 21, I tried alcohol by the beach with my friends for the first time at 14. Overtime, I became your typical party girl.
When I got sober at 22, it wasn't pretty. I was in a DUI collision where I became responsible for two deaths. I went from being a college kid with my biggest responsibilities being finals week and doing my own laundry to a responsibility much bigger.
I realized I didn't just wake up one day and start drinking but there was a series of events—and years of teenage turmoil—that led me to this point in my life.
I wasn't laid up on the side of the street with a needle in my arm, but I loved tequila and a good margarita. I realized I had to let go of all the blaming and the shaming. The stoner friends I loved to compare, and all the time I spent in this picture perfect life filled with underlying despair.
I came to prison where I was surrounded by addiction—and despair. I was no longer different than the people who lived behind these walls.
At home, I have friends who are too young to stop trying, former classmates who consider dying. It took me a long time to realize I could take Zoloft without the stigma of taking Xanax. I thought medication made me weak. I thought anxiety would break my streak of sobriety.
The death of Presley Gerber caught my eye, but it isn't the only reason I wake up every day and try. "Mental Health Mondays" have become my every day. The awareness of what's going on beneath the addiction has become what I focus on the most. It shouldn't take a quick fix, but it's a lifelong dedication to be a little kinder to ourselves than we were yesterday. And when life pisses you off, take a self-care day and pray.
Tomorrow's a new day.