You can’t heal what you don’t reveal

We all have a beginning. A reason why we started drinking.

No one is born addicted. And no one wakes up one morning and decides: From today on, I’m an alcoholic. Most of the time, there is a trigger. Stress. Pain. Loss. An emotionally absent partner. Or a mix of all of it.

My beginning

For me, it was a bit of everything. The stress of being a mother while working. Constant back pain. Two miscarriages. And a partner who wasn’t really interested in any of it – who focused on his career and disappeared to the golf course on weekends.

With alcohol, everything felt easier. The stress wasn’t as overwhelming. Painkillers seemed to work better. And I stopped caring that my husband wasn’t there for me.

When the body speaks

At some point, symptoms appeared when I didn’t drink. At first, you don’t even realise they are withdrawal symptoms. But slowly, the thought creeps in: I have a problem.

For me, that moment happened on a long-haul flight from Germany to India. I suddenly started shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t hold my glass without spilling it. And in that moment, I knew: This is serious. Very serious.

Years of fighting

That’s when years of fighting began.

I don’t remember how many times I tried to quit. How many cold withdrawals I went through. After each one, there were days, weeks – sometimes even months – without alcohol.

And then it happened again. That voice in my head: Come on, have one glass. Prove to yourself that you can handle it.

Of course, it never stayed at one glass. And just as quickly, I found myself trapped again. Drinking until the next withdrawal. And the next. And the next.

Two voices

For years, two voices fought inside me.

One said: You can’t drink even one glass. That’s the beginning of the end. You know how bad withdrawal feels. It’s not worth it. Be strong. You can do this.

The other said: Just one glass. Prove you’re in control. You’re a strong woman. You can drink one – and then stop.

That voice always won. And the cycle started all over again.

The first honest step

About two years ago, I started using a planner. One with a habit tracker, monthly reflections and goals for the next month.

I could never write: I don’t drink alcohol.

I hid my problem from myself – and from the world. My family knew, of course. Whether anyone else noticed why I was constantly sick? Maybe.But even if someone had asked, I would have denied it.

You can’t heal what you don’t reveal.

That’s how my healing began. Quietly. Slowly. I wrote no alcohol in my planner for the first time. I started journaling and thinking honestly about my addiction. Then I talked to a friend. And now there is this blog.

Why silence hurts

I still struggle with it.I grew up believing you don’t share your problems. And alcohol is deeply rooted in our society. It’s normal. It’s everywhere.

But the moment you have a problem with it – the moment you become dependent – you’re labelled. Someone people avoid. So you stay quiet. To avoid being pushed aside.

A small moment, a big step

Recently, someone asked me at a party: Hey, you have a blog? What’s it about?

Damn.

It was the husband of one of my husband’s colleagues. Should I downplay it? Oh, just an online diary about everyday life.

What would it say about my husband if I told the truth?All these thoughts rushed through my head – anything to avoid admitting I had a problem.

And yet, I said it. I told him my blog is about my alcohol addiction and how I’m trying to live with it.

I don’t know how it landed with him. Maybe that doesn’t matter.

What matters is this: It was another small step. A step toward honesty. Toward myself.