Every year when Thanksgiving rolls around, I am helpless to prevent the mixed feelings that always emerge around this particular holiday. For me, Thanksgiving represents so much more than a chance to give thanks and eat turkey. It is a day of reflection, sadness, gratitude, disillusionment, joy, pain, love, and so much more. (Like I said, mixed feelings!)
I know I’m not the only one who struggles with difficult emotions around the holidays, so I thought it might be a good time to re-share some of my personal history regarding my battle with addiction, as a show of solidarity with anyone who has gone through, or is currently going through, a difficult time.
It’s always hard to revisit that time in my life, and it usually ends up opening a few healed wounds. But if sharing my story helps even one person who has been, or currently is in, a similar situation, then I consider it a small price to pay.
If my battles have taught me anything, it’s that we do not get through this life alone. Those of us who have made it through dark and difficult times can make a difference by reaching out to help those still wandering in the darkness.
To that end, allow me to tell you the story of Thanksgiving 2007, a day that I will never forget.
A Slippery Slope
During the fall of 2007, I was perilously close to losing my relatively short battle with addiction, permanently. At that point, my life had been spiraling out of control for a few years, because of one tragic day when I had made the decision to use alcohol as a means of numbing the emotional pain I was experiencing. (The outcome? Ineffective, much more painful, and eventually deadly dangerous.)
I was clearly in a downward spiral, so in a desperate attempt to get help for me, my brother Kevin made me an appointment with a counselor in another town. It was the day before Thanksgiving.
I was very nervous and somewhat resentful about going to the appointment at all, so using my addict’s logic, I decided to stop halfway through the hour-long drive for a few drinks. Soon enough I was too impaired to follow the directions to the counselor’s office, and when my parents eventually called to ask if I had gone to the appointment, I told them I’d gotten lost.
Unsurprisingly, my parents saw right through my lie. My father, my lifelong champion, called me a “drunk,” and it stung so much that I hung up on him. As I got back in my car, I remember thinking, “A drunk? I’ll show you a drunk!” I drove straight to the liquor store and bought two boxes of wine. ⠀
By then evening had fallen, and I was so angry at everything and everyone. I turned off my cell phone completely and pulled into a nearby parking lot in front of a random hotel, in a town that was miles away from home. I sat in my car and drank until I either passed out or blacked out. (Probably both.)
My Worst Thanksgiving
On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up to find myself curled up in the corner of a couch in the lobby of the hotel where I had parked. I was wrapped in a stranger’s coat and had absolutely no idea how I ended up there.
(I’m certain now that a guardian angel had been watching over me. And the things that could have happened in that drunken state, I still can’t bear to think about.)
I very sheepishly approached the front desk attendant, handed him the stranger’s coat, and slinked out of the hotel. I went to my car and drove back to my own town, but couldn’t bring myself to go inside my house to “face the music.” I couldn’t even face myself.
So instead, I drove along the back roads of our small town for hours and drank the remainder of the wine I had bought the day before. I thought about the fact that it was Thanksgiving and that I was supposed to be celebrating with my family, and then I pushed the thought aside.
By the time I finally managed to drive myself home that night (with another guardian angel guiding the way), I had been missing for more than 24 hours. My family’s initial relief at seeing me alive quickly turned into justifiable anger, and I simply retreated to my room to pass out again.
The Reckoning
The next morning I woke to an empty house. There was a note for me on the kitchen counter in my husbands handwriting, bearing the name “Jeremy” and a phone number—nothing else. Some very small part of my messed up brain (the sober part) insisted that I call the number, though I had no idea why.
Shaking, I picked up the phone and dialed the number. Jeremy answered and told me he was the admissions officer at a rehab facility called The Ark. I responded with the eight hardest words for any addict to say out loud: “I have a problem and I need help.” Jeremy asked me to come see him the next day, and on Saturday morning, my husband Dave drove me 50 miles to The Ark.
I can’t possibly share the entire story of my time in rehab in one blog post (though if you are interested in knowing the full story, you can get it in my book One Good Life.) Suffice it to say the meeting with Jeremy ended with me reluctantly agreeing to be a “guest” in their residential addiction treatment center.
(Re-)Birthday Celebration
I entered on December 5th, 2007, and 78 long days later (yes, I spent Christmas in rehab), I was ready to “graduate.” In a twist of fate, my graduation day fell on the same day as my birthday. So now I celebrate TWO birthdays on February 20th: my “belly button birthday” and my “re-birthday.”
They have a rather elaborate graduation ceremony at The Ark. After the residents take turns saying something they like or appreciate about the graduate, they all join hands to form a human hammock of sorts and cradle the graduate on their interlocked arms, like a baby in a cradle.
I’ll never forget being rocked by all those arms under the dimmed lights. And I’ll never forget the song that played in the background, which my counselor had chosen especially for me. The song was “Gentle” by Michael McLean, and the lyrics still bring tears to my eyes:
We’ve been hurt by others often,
We’ve forgiven and forgotten,
We should be more gentle with ourselves.
Life can be hard but we need not be so hard on ourselves.
The message was clear: I needed to stop holding myself to impossible standards and punishing myself for inevitably falling short. When I was released from the cradle, I was given the biggest and best group hug of my life.
Although I had entered The Ark just shy of kicking and screaming, after 78 transformative days there I was scared to death when I left. It would be a lie to tell you that the weeks and months that followed were easy, or to claim that I never stumbled along the way by having another drink. Those initial days after leaving treatment were full of uncertainty about the future, and it took time for my family and I to find our footing again, but all of the hard work and tough days were more than worth it. ⠀
I have often said that I should either be dead or in jail, and that’s not just for the shock value! I really should be one of those things based on the incredibly poor choices I made. But because of the dedicated people at The Ark, my incredibly supportive family, and my Higher Power that never left me, I was given a second chance at life. ⠀
A New Start, “One Good Thing” At A Time
While I was in The Ark my counselors taught me many important things, but one thing they kept emphasizing over and over was that I needed to find my passion and pursue it! They didn’t just say it was a good idea, they said that it was mandatory if I was going to stay sober.⠀
Back then I never dreamed that advice would one day lead to anything like what One Good Thing by Jillee has become! Through a lot of hard work I have been able to turn the blog I started as a passion project into not only a career for myself, but a thriving business with a team of talented people that I truly love working with. And best of all, it brought me all of you, an incredible community of people that I have the privilege to share with and learn from. :-)
If you or someone you love is currently in a place just as dark as I was 13 years ago, I want you to know that you are not alone. And although I know how it hopeless it feels to be at your lowest, there is always hope, and I promise that things can (and will) get better.
So now you know why Thanksgiving Day is a lot more than just an annual holiday to me. While I can’t prevent those demons from my past taking some of the sheen off this particular holiday, it does serve as a powerful reminder of just how much I have to be grateful for! :-)
Wishing you all a very happy (and safe!) Thanksgiving,
Jillee
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