Some days I struggle with the “what ifs.” What if I could have just a few drinks with my friends. What if I could use alcohol to unwind after a long week and what if I could experience the carefree, bliss of being drunk, just one more time? My mind wanders into a realm, a dream-like fantasy where I can picture myself letting loose with the rest of society. I scroll through Instagram. Everyone is enjoying a glass of wine while watching TV or laying by the pool with a White Claw. These weird emotions continue to stir in my restless mind. I nostalgically reminisce on the days that alcohol brough ..read more

Recovery is not about acquiring time. 943 days means absolutely nothing if those days were spent in misery, depression, and disorientation. Recovery is about establishing direction and purpose in one’s life. It’s difficult and unlikely for someone to instill control, aspiration and intent back into their life after it has been derailed. This type of restraint and discipline entails support and guidance from some other resource that is not yourself. If left to our own devices, we are devious and insidious mother f*ckers. Our addictions have programmed our brain to seek reward and instant gratif ..read more

Anger is hurt in disguise. When I fume, I don’t embark on an infinite quest to figure out why I just blew up. That pursuit is fruitless because anger is a symptom of pain. Instead, I ask myself why I feel so incredibly hurt. Before sobriety, I drank to alleviate the pain. Alcohol provided me with a false catharsis. It gave me the ability to forget people, places and things from my past/present that instigated any heartache/heartbreak. Drinking numbed my mind, body and soul. I was purely a skeleton, a shell of my authentic self. This capability to forget pain set into motion an alcoholic robot ..read more

When I first got sober in 2016, I was constantly surrounded by other like-minded people who have struggled with the same demons. My environment consisted of individuals who understood me and who acknowledged the deep pain associated with abruptly terminating self-medicating behaviors. Fast forward to 2018: I move to NJ with my boyfriend and life resumes to normal—Regular people doing normal adult things, alcohol usually included. For the past 4 years I have convinced myself of my own immunity to alcohol-ridden circumstances. I observed others drinking to obliteration and reiterated to myself ..read more

I have always been a closet Dr. Phil junkie. I craved the exaggerated chaos that the show delivered. Watching other people air their dirty laundry made me feel somewhat normal regarding my own mediocre life. Isn’t that partially why we love watching train wrecks on television? Inward pleasure is often derived by watching other people make poor decisions because it subconsciously makes us feel better about our own life choices. These feelings are firmly evolved from our own insecurities. Sharing our story on Dr. Phil provides more than just entertainment, it offers hope. Thousands of viewers st ..read more

This blog post is a passage straight out of Chapter 5 of my book, Girl, Wasted. The chapter is titled “Bachelor Pad Blackout,” and describes my alcoholism as it affected my ability to function as a normal contestant on reality TV. On the first day, we were given a challenge that would give the winning couple immunity from elimination and the losing couple a vote against them. When we walked outside of the mansion into the front terrace, we were greeted by seven giant hearts, made of wood. These contraptions were large enough to fit two people inside of them and were suspended into the air. We ..read more

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