My Story

I grew up in a family deeply affected by alcoholism and people pleasing. Long before I understood what addiction was, I learned there were many ways to escape discomfort and difficult feelings.

Books were my first escape. I could read for hours, disappearing into someone else’s story so I did not have to be present in my own.

When I discovered alcohol at twelve, it felt as though I had finally arrived. In my mind, alcohol fixed everything. I was taller, prettier, funnier and smarter—and most importantly, I felt worthy. I stopped being that kid who stood in the back yard waiting for the alien ship to come get me.  For the first time, I felt like I fit inside my own skin.  

Drinking worked for me until it didn’t. I tried what many people in recovery call a geographic cure, moving from Toronto to Vancouver in the hope that changing my surroundings would change my life. It didn’t. I took myself with me.

I hit bottom at twenty-four and got sober. I believed that because I was no longer drinking, everything would work itself out. What I did not understand was that removing the alcohol did not automatically heal the discomfort I had been using it to escape. Without realizing it, I simply found other ways to leave myself.

Working with a hypnotherapist helped me go beneath the behaviours and reach the roots of what had been driving them. She helped me begin emptying the sack of rocks I had been carrying since I was a little girl. I uncovered my fears of being seen, succeeding and being abandoned. Beneath all of those fears was a deeply rooted belief that I was not good enough.

Today, I feel more like myself than I ever have. I love that I can show up authentically rather than trying to become whoever I think other people need me to be.

I do not profess to be healed, and I do not believe recovery is something we ever complete. I believe this recovery thing is a lifetime of work. There will always be another layer to understand, another pattern to notice and another opportunity to choose differently. My goal is not perfection. It is simply to be 1% better every day.

I still experience discomfort, and there are moments when the old urge to escape appears. The difference is that I can recognize it now. I can pause, notice the old pattern and give myself a moment to understand what is happening underneath it. Then I can choose a different way to respond.

I no longer automatically reach for alcohol, cigarettes, food, sugar, codependent relationships or people pleasing to make my feelings disappear. I have learned that recovery is not only about giving something up. It is about understanding what you were trying to escape—and finding your way back to the person you lost while trying to survive.