Anonymous Story
Ten years later, I haven’t lived like that since.
I haven’t been to a meeting yet where someone shares that they wanted to end up in a 12 step recovery program as a kid, and yet here we all are anyway. I was twelve the first time I drank, and genuinely it was just because I wanted to fit in. After a couple drinks and the shimmy that comes with the burn of cheap vodka, I suddenly didn’t care about fitting in and felt like I found a solution to everything.
It didn’t take long for me to completely go off the deep end. Binging was common, and I was in the hospital the first time at fourteen for alcohol poisoning. The progression was pretty rapid after that, and the following year I visited my first holding cell. By sixteen I wasn’t living at home anymore, and when I was seventeen I ended up in the hospital again with way more than just alcohol pumping through me. I was found on the front lawn of my parent’s house that I didn’t live at anymore, and again put them through the pain of my active addiction. Less than a month after that I ran away from Bel Air, MD to Jacksonville, FL, where I was promptly arrested, processed through their juvenile detention system. and placed in a group home in St Augustine until my parents were able to halt their life once again by driving all the way down the East Coast to pick me up and bring me back.
At this point my life was headed absolutely nowhere. I wasn’t college material and didn’t have any worthwhile job prospects, and at seventeen I didn’t have a lot of options. My father was a USMC vet, and one day I got the bright idea that if I joined the Marines everything would be ok. My parents were more than happy to sign the paperwork for me to head off to boot camp, and under the structure of Parris Island and subsequently Camp Geiger for combat training, I flourished. I couldn’t think and I couldn’t drink and it really seemed like I had it together.
Then I made my way to my duty station after MOS school, and the gradual release of liberty time was over. I was a Marine, and expected to conduct myself as one. And for a while I did, but just like any geographical cure, the band aid starts to wear off. The usual restlessness kicked back in, and the drinking started to take off beyond just the weekend hanging out. Like every other time, drinking ultimately turns into any substance I can get my hands on, and just shy of three years of service I was walked to my summary court martial and other than honorably discharged as a direct result of my drinking.
I was devastated, and the feelings of worthlessness and loneliness were more severe than ever. The “can’t stop but love to party” attitude turned into “why stop and why should I care.” I was
pregnant during the time I was discharged, and my daughter was born into the broken home I created. Even when I was physically present, I was completely absent. The first real home I had was in the Marines, and as the fourth generation to enlist, I genuinely couldn’t handle the shame and guilt of my actions. I had no VA benefits to fall back on, no health insurance to use to get help, and no community of Marines as either I was shunned or too ashamed to reach out.
I tried for years to get my discharge upgraded, and the problem was that my addiction was still running rampant. I had a couple of DUIs in the years after getting out, and every time I reached
out to a free law clinic they would give the same response – we can’t help until there is time between you getting in trouble and going in front of the board.
My last DUI is ultimately what brought me into the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. That final night of drinking was far from the worst, and the revolving door of poor decisions, consequences, pulling it together, and then falling apart again had taken its toll. I was tired, and while I was sitting in that cop car, all I remember is thinking over and over again that I don’t want to live like this anymore.
Ten years later, I haven’t lived like that since. While I haven’t picked up since that last arrest, I was slow to believe in the power of God and the twelve steps. As I continued to come around, the reality of what AA offered became clear – a way up and a way out. An incredible bonus is the fellowship that often feels like the camaraderie I miss from the Marines, I got a sponsor, and found the willingness to follow directions whether I wanted to or not.
When I had a little bit of time, fellow service members from the rooms began encouraging me to pursue upgrading my discharge. Its part of the amends process to clean up the wreckage of my past, and to attempt to right the wrongs I’ve committed. While I can’t go back in time to undo my actions, I knew that if I didn’t follow through with this I would always be left wondering. With guidance and trusting in my Higher Power, I began to reach out to law clinics again, and eventually found one willing to work with me.
It took several years to work through the process, with almost two years of setbacks from Covid. My first hearing was finally scheduled for March of 2020, and the hearing was canceled because of the beginning of the pandemic. February 14, 2022 I was able to participate in a telephone hearing with the military board, with two lawyers from the Veteran Law Clinic, my sister, and two members of AA attending. I woke up that morning and said the same prayers I say every day – God, please help me to stay clean, sober, and smoke free, and take all of me to do with what you will, so I may be of service to you and my fellows.
Whatever happened was out of my hands. I followed every suggestion, and had enough ups and downs in sobriety to know I can stay sober under any and all conditions. I answered the difficult, personal, and gut wrenching questions posed by the officers of the board, exposing memories of incredible shame, guilt, and pain. I responded to their questions with honesty, even when I knew a lie would sound better. My amends was made that day by showing up and telling the truth. Regardless of the outcome, I took the steps necessary to right my wrongs the best I could.
Three months later the Naval Board’s decision was mailed to my home. Eighteen years after my other than honorable discharge, and ten years into my life as a woman in recovery, the Naval Board awarded me with a General under Honorable Conditions discharge. I am now eligible for many of the benefits my fellow veterans are afforded, and most importantly, I trusted God and
cleaned my side of the street.
Even without the outcome, the process of working through amends allowed me to make peace with who I was and love who I have become a whole lot more. The addicted child I was never stood a chance, and somehow God brought me to AA and AA brought me to a life of purpose.
