Hi and welcome Jenna.  Thank you for helping me stay sober today.  Also thank you for sharing your letter.

beautifully written Jenna :) Congrats on your sobriety

Beautiful intro Jenna... welcome

Welcome to MIP, Jenna & what a beautifully written & heartfelt letter I can deeply identify with. Maybe not all the physical consequences but the truth between the slavery to freedom. Your words touched me & I feel a tearful gratitude for your sobriety & being here too. Never alone again. I believe in you & your higher power. Thank you for sharing in your recovery with us. Keep coming back & passing it on ;) Love & fellowship, Danielle x

Thank you for sharing that wonderful story. You are among friends.

Jenna,

That was beautiful.  Congratulations, and thanks for reminding me about where I was 16 months ago.  I just dug out the "good-bye letter" that I was assigned to write to alcohol in treatment, 3 months after (hopefully) my last drink -- here goes:

Dear Alcohol,

When you first came into my life, I didn't quite know what to think about you.  You made me dizzy, and not in control.  You gave me the courage to talk to girls, and dulled the pain of rejection when it came.  But I wasn't convinced about you in the beginning, so I stayed away.  Then later, you helped me be part of the "in" crowd.  I liked that very much, but still it wasn't enough.  Then I discovered that you could help me avoid pain that I knew was coming, if I used you in advance.  And I could relax with you after a day full of stress, when nothing else worked.  I could forget everything, I could stop being my own inadequate self and be someone else for awhile, someone who had friends too.  Even if I was alone and lonely, you would be there to take me to oblivion.

But then there came a point when you were too much of a good thing, and yet at the same time, not enough.  Just like in the beginning, you were a paradox.  Just like every bad relationship I had ever been in, I wanted to leave but couldn't.  I was blind, I was self-delusional.  You nearly killed me several times, but I forgave you eventually after each time.  And then you started to turn me into a monster.  I would do horrible things when I got angry that I never would have done before.  You helped me find the most hurtful, powerfully effective ways to avenge myself against those I felt had wronged me.  Who knows what I might have done if I had stayed with you.  Even after my wife left, and my daughter was emotionally hurt, and my stepson was afraid for his safety and that of his mother, I refused to let you go, because by then I needed you like nothing I had ever needed before.  I was willing to lose my job over you, and risk everything else including my freedom or my life.  It was only luck or the grace of God that got me pulled over one night before that happened.

There's no way to tell for sure where I'd be today without you.  But I know that all of the painfully unhealthy relationships I suffered through began in bars.  I know that I've lost several good jobs thanks to you.  Anytime I've managed to get back up, you've managed to knock me down again.  I've been unhappy all my life, and I can finally see that you've been a very big part of that unhappiness.  I'm not happy without you now, but I finally have something that I never had with you:  Hope.  And for now, that's enough.

One of my favorite songs that I used to listen to after ending relationships applies to you:  "For every time that we spent laughing, there were two times that I cried."  If I stay with you, you'll suck me dry.  Eventually I'll be forced to give up everything I care about -- or used to care about, when I still cared -- including caring itself -- for you.  In return you'll give me nothing but misery and more misery until the day I die.  I'll end this letter with another line from a breakup song:  "You know it ain't so hard to say, would you please just go away?  I've thrown away the blues, I'm tired of being used, I want everyone to know I'm looking for a good time. So sail on."