Who is Ellen Elizabeth

Who is Ellen Elizabeth?

I have a Roomba named Stanley.  He is fabulous.  My car is named Blondie.  My printer at my first job was named Chaz.  My flute is a Buffet, so her name is Phoebe.  My piano is Wayne.  I love music, being outdoors, anything French, dogs, and being a mom.  I have my quirks.  I love to name things, as you can tell.  I’m very creative, sometimes living completely in my own world.  My husband thinks I act like an 18 year old most of the time.  It’s true.  They say when you start abusing drugs or alcohol, your brain stops growing and you stay at that age for your whole life.   Adolescence is also  a developmental period associated with the highest risk for developing a substance use disorder.

I had a great childhood, growing up in Colorado Springs, Colorado.  My brother was my best friend.  We did everything together because we lived out of town about 10 miles.  We had two acres to roam around on, and oftentimes, we would explore way back into the woods outside of our property.  I was a tomboy, never playing with dolls- only micromachines, Legos, and GI joes.  I cut the legs off Barbies that were given to me.  They didn’t fit in the GI Joe tanks with their long legs.

There was no trauma in my childhood.  Everything was perfect, fun, and carefree.  I don't remember anything serious happening that would have affected me in adult life.  I got straight A’s, played in band, played softball and basketball and was in the National Honors Society.  After high school, I had several jobs- one in advertising, one as an office manager, one in restaurants. For the past eight and half years, I have been an Ethics and Compliance Analyst for a defense contractor in their Legal Department. I have twins and a husband and a lovely home.  This is my life.  But who really is Ellen Elizabeth?

Now, I want more. I want to really help people.  I want to make a difference.  I’ve always strived for perfection, and now is no different. But now it really matters, because lives are in danger.  According to statistics, almost 21 million Americans have an addiction, yet only 10% of them receive treatments. About 300 million people worldwide struggle from alcohol abuse disorder. Alcohol is the cause for 5.3% of deaths worldwide (1 in every 20). And our society glamorizes drinking.  Not only that, it is frowned upon if you don’t drink.  You are immediately an outcast, labeled “no fun,” or dismissed.  

Along with all that, 12% of women in the United States struggle to get pregnant. The percentage seems low, and it is not talked about enough.  My goal now is to stand for women who are dealing with both the struggles and shame that come from not feeling like they can quit drinking or not bringing a child into this world.

I am working to get my Life and Recovery Coach Certification.  I am writing a memoir.  I am using this blog as a platform to speak out...to hopefully reach anyone in need.  If you know someone, please send them this way.  Together, we need to talk more about these issues, bring them to light, and stop the stigma around them.

What brought me to this?  My demons.  My demons led me to this life today.  And they are going to help me fulfill my dreams.

It all started with a boy. Everyone tells you that you will always remember your first love. In my case, this is absolutely 100% true. He was handsome, charming, with a Southern accent. He brought me flowers every time we had a date. He spoiled me and made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. He was also a drug addict.

We were getting his tux the night before my senior prom. Waiting in the parking lot, he pulled out a baggy from his sock. He said something like “I think you might like this. It would be fun to try together.” I asked what it was. “Crystal meth,” he replied. Up to this moment, I had been drunk a handful of times and smoked pot maybe twice. But because I was in love, I would do anything for him. I agreed to try it. When we got back to his house, he got it out and lined it up with a credit card on a mirror. It was like things I had only seen in movies. And there in his parent’s basement, I did my first line. My first hard drug.

He was incredibly manipulative and controlling. We made a pact to only drink or drug together (which only I stuck to- I found out years later). He completely striped me of any sort of normal college life. But I would do anything for him.  The occasional meth use turned into daily use. He wouldn’t let me light my own bowl or buy my own drugs. I guess in a way, he was protecting me? After introducing me to this terrible lifestyle? I’m the most naïve drug addict you’ll ever meet because I don’t know how to do any of it on my own.

I was still managing to do well in college, mainly because I was awake ALL THE TIME, so I was ahead in all of my classes. But he got a job offer in Cincinnati. He said if I didn’t come with him, we were done. I went into a depression I had never known before. I remember sleeping for days in my parent’s basement. The thought of being apart from this boy completely broke me. So, I moved to Cincinnati.

It wasn’t long before he found someone in Cincinnati who knew someone who was a dealer. But it wasn’t meth. It was cocaine. I got excited knowing there was something else to try, so we dove right in. The coke led to crack, and crack led to complete destruction. I was now failing school. Me, a straight A, honor student. My mom came out to visit for my 21st birthday. I didn’t go drinking.. My mom took us out to dinner, and she and I went out alone for drinks, but I wasn’t getting wasted. It was all about drugs. My mom could tell something was off, but I had been lying for so long. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. These were some of my darkest days and regretful memories. I always joke that I didn’t drink much before I was 21 because it was illegal. But here I was smoking crack and meth and doing lines of coke.

I now knew I was only in the relationship because he got me drugs. I was scared to leave because he was my first love, and I didn’t know anything else. But my life was a mess. I’d dropped out of college, claiming an “emotional breakdown.” I didn’t have a job. I had no idea what I was doing with myself. I was completely lost. I called my mom and told her I needed to come home. Of course, the next morning, I regretted it, but it was too late. My parents were on their way from Colorado to get me.

I finally broke up with the boy. The boy who got me into drugs, ruined my life. My first love. Without him, I had no access to drugs. I quit cold turkey.  Looking back, I have no idea how I did this. I don’t remember withdrawals or cravings. All I know is I replaced it with alcohol.

I always drank to get drunk. I felt that I had missed out on college life, and I needed to make up for it. I had been controlled for too long; I was finally free. I started going to bars and clubs regularly. I got a job, and re-enrolled in school. I was doing really well, and I was happy. I did what I thought was normal for someone in her early twenties. I drank every day, starting at 5. That’s what adults do right?

I didn’t think I had a problem until I realized how much more alcohol I needed compared to my friends.  Every time we went out, they were completely hammered, and I barely had a buzz. I started bringing my own shooters in my purse so that I could have extra on hand. I would pour vodka into mini shampoo bottles so that it wasn’t evident that it was alcohol. I’d buy 100 proof to get the job done quicker. 

I was always the fun friend, but I put myself in so many terrible situations. The daily drinking continued into my 30’s and into my marriage. When I moved in with my now husband, I had to start hiding vodka in the closet because, again, the amount I needed was extraordinarily higher than most people. I thought it was fun. It was my secret. I liked hiding it. It was like a game. When people saw me drink three glasses of wine, they had no idea about the water bottles filled with vodka that I chugged from earlier. I’d gauge how much I was drinking by counting the number of gulps I took or by seeing how many shampoo bottles were empty.

I hid how much I was drinking very well. I was a functioning alcoholic. I had a great husband, amazing friends, and a stable job. In my mind, there was no way I was an alcoholic because I had all of these things. Alcoholics are people who can barely get out of bed or are homeless. They don’t look or act like me. Right?

There were several episodes that should have been the end, but I was never ready. It took years of looking at myself in the mirror, thinking, Ellen, this has to stop. You can’t continue drinking like this. So, I would try drinking a different way. Only wine during the week.  Vodka on weekends. Svedka instead of 100 proof Smirnoff. Anything. The only thing that stayed consistent was that I never allowed anyone to see how much I was truly drinking. I knew it deep down in my soul that I would either die drinking or that I would have to admit out loud that there was a problem.

The day finally came. I learned later in the rooms that it was one of my “yets.” The things that make you convince yourself that you are not an alcoholic. “I haven’t gotten a DUI…yet.  Or  I haven’t lost my job…yet.” Mine was I’ve never brought alcohol into work…yet.” My last was really a continuation of several days of drinking. I had finished everything that was hidden in the closet at 6 am before heading to work because I was so shaky. I took my lunch break early (like 9:15 early) and drove to the first liquor store. It didn’t open until 10. I thought to myself “only an alcoholic would be caught waiting for a liquor store to open. I can’t do that.” So, I went to another one nearby. Yes  It was open!

I went in and got my usual. The cashier ringed me up and said, “Why you here so early today?” I was so embarrassed. Little did he know I needed this to calm my shakes, feel better, and make it to lunch. This was the first time I brought alcohol into this job. This was my “yet.” I had basically woken up still drunk and was just continuing the drunk in order to feel OK.  I was completely shitfaced by lunch. I knew I would be fired if anyone noticed. I had to get out. I called my husband. I knew he’d be pissed, but I have the most supportive and compassionate husband. He picked my drunk ass up from work. Yes, he was pissed, but more scared and confused and completely sad.  Why was I wasted at work on a Thursday by noon?

And that was it. I have not had a drink since that day. I finally knew that something needed to change. I knew that I was the only person who could make that change. I didn’t want to live this way anymore. I needed to change. For ME. The only way it works is when you realize you have to do it for YOURSELF.   No one else can get you sober.

If I had never met the boy and done that first line of meth, would I even be an addict? Who knows? All I know is that I started out hard core, switched to booze, and never let up. My sober life is amazing. Yes, I still have regular life problems. But everything is so much more manageable without the haze. I can do things now that I never did before. And everything makes a little more sense. I’ve returned to the child I remember being when I was young and 

carefree. Before I knew any different.  Before anyone had hurt me or pressured me. I’m back to being Ellen. 

My marriage is stable. I still have my job. My family loves me. And I have twins! I was able to get pregnant and start a family sober. I believe that my higher power had all of this lined up for me. I could never have done any of these things in any different order. Everything is perfectly in place that way it is supposed to be according to my journey. And now I can actually see that clearly.