Melessa debriefs about the blog and what she’s up to now

At first, the thought of having my story out there was really scary. I was worried about people seeing me on the street and thinking, “There’s that girl with all those problems from the Internet.” But I wanted to do it if it could help people. The feedback I got verified that it did. Now, I think it’s an amazing idea. 

I posted the blog on my Facebook, and people who commented said it was awesome. I told my dad about it, but I haven’t yet shared it with my mom. I’m not sure if my sister has seen it.

I recently had a spiritual awakening. I’m doing all I can to be sober and stay positive. It’s about acceptance and patience. I have also found that God works through other people. I met some new young people at a 12-step meeting the other day. Helping them helps me continue on my path to recovery.

I pray every day, too. I couldn’t do any of this without God. “Help me do the next best thing,” I say. Last week I spoke at a luncheon where one of my counselors won an award (Congrats Vady!). I would have never done that a year ago, but I knew I had to do it, because it was the next best thing. The response I got from sharing my story was overwhelming. It felt so good. I’ll be speaking at two more events in the next month, including Recovery Resources’ Bronze Key Gala on November 18. I am happy to share my story if it can help someone. I owe my life to Recovery Resources.

Thanks for following me on this journey. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite prayers, the Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I know I'll always be an alcoholic...

But that doesn’t mean I’m always going to drink. This time last year, I was out of control. My life was horrible. I was always drinking and doing drugs. But now, I’m in a really, really good place for the first time in 15 years. I can’t wait for the day I can say I’ve been sober for a year.

One day at a time.

Note: This concludes Melessa’s blog. We followed her over the course of a two and a half month period as she courageously shared her story. Come back soon for a post-blog discussion. What did Melessa think? What did you think? We’d love to hear from you.

Thanks for reading!

The gift of sobriety

I was 90 days sober on my dad’s birthday this year. I told him, “My sobriety is your gift.”  He said, “I would like nothing more.”

What I want

My goals for the next six months are:
1. Find a job
2. Stay sober, which I will
3. Be active in my support groups, making coffee and chairing meetings whenever I can
4. Help someone
5. Read books, make jewelry, knit, go for walks
6. Give back to everyone who has helped me
7. Be comfortable will my meal plan, follow it 100%
8. Look at my body not as an enemy but a temple
9. Feel good about myself
10. Be confident


I just want to be happy, without relying on a substance to make me feel comfortable. It’s easier to stay sober than to keep relapsing. I don’t want to disappoint the people who have been rooting for me by going out there and taking one drink. It’s not worth it.

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family." - Anthony Brandt

My sister left for college in August. When she was little, I was always jealous of her and thought my parents loved her more than me. I think I even remember telling her that I hated her.  Now, she’s my best friend. I trust her more than anybody. She’s so calm and strong and super brave. I know she forgives me.

Some people go their whole lives without being able to re-connect. I feel blessed that I’m so young. I’m so glad there was help available. There always is. You just have to ask for it.

My mom would always say, “Help me help you.” Now I realize the way for her to help me is for me to help myself.

Anorexia today

Since I’ve been eating more on this nutritional plan, I’ve gained weight, and people have said some things. They tell me things, like “You look better.” I know it sounds weird, but it’s difficult to hear. I have to keep my mind balanced, and know that the doubt is just my eating disorder trying to convince me to listen to it.

Addiction

I heard someone say that it all starts with cigarettes. I agree. Cigarettes are so addicting. I’m not blaming them, but I think it’s easier to get addicted to other things when you’re already addicted to something.

It's not that easy to eat a sandwich

My anorexia is still pretty bad. I’m finally seeing a therapist and nutritionist to help with it. We came up with an eating plan. I’m not following it 100 percent but I’m doing it to the best of my ability.

People tell me to eat all the time. It’s like telling a heroin addict to stop doing heroin. Seriously, that’s what it feels like when someone says, “Go eat a sandwich.”

Moving forward

These past six months have been way intense, but it’s getting better and I’m staying positive. I don’t necessarily love myself, but I don’t hate myself. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, being honest and not making excuses.

I don’t want to drink again. I don’t want to depend on a substance to be confident and outgoing. At least I haven’t been feeling guilty in a while. I used to think everything was my fault. I don’t like disappointing other people. Now I realize that if I disappoint someone, that’s their problem. I did the best I could.

I’m not afraid to tell people that I’m an alcoholic either. If they want to judge me, that’s their problem.

Higher power

I love my addiction support group. They always make me feel better. I’ve had drinking buddies that disappeared. The friends here aren’t like that. At a meeting the other day, a speaker shared his story and his struggle with alcoholism. “There’s not enough digits on my hands and feet to count the amount of times I’ve been institutionalized,” he said. After getting arrested in the hospital, he realized he had a problem. He talked about the pain of seeing addicted friends die. “It’s tough when people die in this program,” he said, “but there are a lot of people living.”


Part of a 12-step program is finding a higher power. What's mine? Watch and find out.

The turning point

If somebody were to hand me a drink today, I would say no. Whenever I think about drinking, I think about that night in the cop car…

April 2010

I was at a friend’s house and left because I wanted to drink. I went to a bar down the street and got drunk by myself. I went outside to have a cigarette and passed out on the sidewalk. The next thing I knew, two cops were waking me up. They found marijuana on me and gave me tickets for public intoxication and possession of drug paraphernalia.

I thought about what happened for a day then told my parents everything. It felt good to be honest. They had caught me in so many lies. A family friend represented me in court and was able to get my charge lessened to possession of marijuana, instead of drug paraphernalia.

The day after I told my parents, I researched AA meetings on the computer and found the closest one. Hours later, I went to my first meeting. It was amazing and I went again for the next three nights. At one point, I actually found myself in a meeting with a group of girls I used to drink and do drugs with.

When I went to my sentencing, the judge was impressed I had filled an entire sheet with proof of meetings I had gone to in the month since my arrest. I was ordered to attend two AA meetings a week and am on one year of inactive probation. I have to report to my probation officer once a month.

Getting arrested was a blessing in disguise.

Because I was drunk

Drinking has never done anything positive for me. I used to sleep all day, sometimes for days at a time. I’d only ever go out to get alcohol or cigarettes. And when I look back on all the stuff I’ve done, I am filled with so much guilt. I am thankful for how lucky I was. I drove drunk but didn’t kill anyone. But I hurt a lot of people with the things I said and did while I was drinking and to defend my alcoholism. I lied so much to my parents.

I always used to think that bad stuff happened to me AND I was drunk. I didn’t connect that it happened BECAUSE I was drunk. All the stuff that happened as a result of drinking made me more depressed. I was pretty much depressed through my whole adolescence.

I tried to deal with my depression by cutting myself, but that didn’t really help anything.

Deathly thin

My mom’s sister died of cancer a long time ago, when I was just a baby. Before she died, she got really thin. My mom told me once that my anorexic body reminded her of her sister right before she died. That broke my heart. I didn’t want to remind her of her sister who passed away from cancer too soon, and all the pain it caused her.

Stupid number

I started doing exercise tapes every day and writing down everything I ate. I remember looking in the mirror after I had lost some weight and thinking, “I look good.”


But quickly my weight loss spiraled out of control. Soon I was down to 79 pounds. I was sent to a three-month inpatient facility in Pennsylvania, where I was discharged at 125 pounds. With no aftercare, I was thrown back into the world on my own. A girl I knew asked if she could live with me for a while to save money, so I said yes. But she was depressed and talked all the time about how she was so fat. She also got drunk a lot and cried about the abortion she had. Two years after coming out of treatment, I relapsed. I weighed only 92 pounds.


I used to weigh myself everyday, several times a day. I don’t own a scale now, because my mom used to throw away the ones I had. When I get weighed at the eating disorders clinic I go to, they make me turn around on the scale so I don’t see the number. It all has to do with a stupid number. Whatever that number is, it controls how I feel.

Laughing on the outside, screaming on the inside

Even though my alcoholism was a big problem, my anorexia was also getting out of hand. I went through an intensive program at an outpatient clinic and graduated from the program weighing a healthy 116 pounds. Everything was going great. I got a job and fell in love. Suddenly, I didn’t have a care in the world. My boyfriend thought I was beautiful just the way I was. I let myself go and didn’t care that I was gaining weight, again.

One day, I went out to lunch with my boss. We went to a small Italian eatery near the office. The waiter didn’t speak much English, and when he looked at me—maybe because I was slouching or something—he said, “You...preg-nant?” as he made the motion of a pregnant woman rubbing her outstretched stomach. I stumbled out, “No,” while my boss began laughing. I shrugged it off and laughed with him, but as soon as I got home that night, I decided to go on a diet.

What started out as a diet turned into a progressive death sentence.

Black out

I'm a blackout drinker, which means I drink until I get sick or black out. I can’t have just one drink. I don’t ever remember really enjoying alcohol. Not long after I turned 21, my parents figured out that once I started drinking, I couldn’t stop. At family parties, I would get drunk, totally embarrass myself and scare my younger cousins. One time my mom, dad, sister and I went out to eat, and I wanted to order a drink. My dad wouldn’t let me. “I’m over 21,” I insisted, “I’ll pay for it.” But he didn’t give in. He knew I had a problem.

Shocking treatment

After my grandpa died, I was so depressed. My drinking got worse, and I stopped eating. My mom tried to help me, like she always would, trying to find places for me to go and doctors for me to see. One day, she came across the free clinic. She gave me their phone number and made me an appointment. 

I started going for counseling and got medication. It didn’t do much. I remember talking to a psychologist one day, saying “I don’t even care. I don’t even know. I’m not going to jump in front of a bus, but if one hit me, that’d be awesome.”


After I made that comment, my counselor called the police, and they admitted me to the hospital. I was there for two weeks.

I didn’t mind being in the hospital. Being there made me realize what I needed to work on.  I actually enjoyed going to group and loved my art therapy sessions. And the people there around my age were cool.


I received electroshock therapy (ECT) six times while I was at the hospital, and six times for two weeks following my discharge. It felt good at first. After a treatment, I couldn’t remember what bothered me. In fact, I couldn’t remember a lot of things (the most common side effect of ECT). But not being able to remember things made me depressed. It was a vicious cycle.

Anything but goodbye

Pop Pop died seven years ago, but I am still struggling with it today. Part of me likes to think he’s alive, but I just haven’t seen him for a while.

I’m really bad at saying goodbye to people. I always have been. When I was little and I would talk to my grandma on the phone, at the end of the conversation, she would say, “Alright, let’s hang up together.” Then, together we said, “1…2…3…Love you!” *Click*

Gammy is an angel. She has done so much for me. She and Pop Pop used to call me “Messy Lou” since my middle name is Louise, same as hers. I haven’t seen her since my grandpa died. I call her as often as possible to chat and tell her how much I love and miss her. Hopefully sometime soon we can get together for a few weeks and make up for lost time.

South Carolina, my second home

I used to visit my grandparents in South Carolina every summer as a kid. I loved it there; it was comfortable. This time was no different.

My grandma remembers when I stepped off the plane. She said I was pale and scrawny. Not for long, though. Her food was pure comfort. I’m a vegetarian, but I ate meat for that year. I worked at a grocery store. I stopped caring about gaining weight.

For a year, life was great. There was nothing to worry about in the peaceful woods of South Carolina.

Then I moved home. Shortly after moving, my grandpa died.

(Just a little bit of) college

After graduation, I went to Kent State for college.  I wasn’t ready for college to begin with. I had a total mental breakdown and never went to class because I was always drinking or hung over. I stayed in my dorm room all day, crying, drinking and throwing up. I passed out a bunch of times because I wasn’t eating. When I was home over Christmas break, I got a letter telling me not to come back. It probably had something to do with my 0.2 GPA.

Back home, I fought with my parents all the time. I wanted to have fun, which meant going out all night and drinking. My parents knew I was getting into trouble and wanted me home.

Most of the time, I went to work drunk. I poured alcohol into a pop bottle and drank it at lunch at my desk. I even remember driving to work wasted, with one eye open.

After a while of living like this, I decided to move to South Carolina to live with my grandparents. It was the fresh start I needed.

The cat did it

I was 17 when I was admitted to the hospital for the first time. I had been cutting myself for about a year and had to get stitches, it was so bad. I was diagnosed with anorexia and depression. Hurting myself took my mind off being depressed. Watching the blood drip was calming.

I cut myself more when I was drinking. I drank all the time. At my aunt’s wedding, I snuck alcohol all night and got drunk. Of course I couldn’t hide it from my parents. My dad had to drive me home, and I got really sick. My parents didn’t know what to do. They sat down and talked to me about not drinking, but I didn’t care. I told them a bunch of lies about how it was the first time I drank, and I would never do it again. I lied so much to them. I was constantly making up excuses about the cuts on my arms and legs. My reason was always the same: the cat did it.

"She got fat!"

When I was 12, I spent the summer in South Carolina with my grandparents. It was so much fun. Gammy’s home-cooked meals are amazing, and I ate well all summer.
On my way back home at the end of the summer, my grandparents and I stopped at my great-grandma’s house. As soon as she opened the door and saw me, she gasped and said to my grandma, “She got fat!” I didn’t understand what it meant at the time, but I did know it was probably a bad thing because of the way she said it.

Like every 12-year-old, I wanted to fit in, so I figured if I was fat, I should do something about it. I started skipping breakfast. Once I got to high school, I started skipping both breakfast and lunch. I was obsessed with being thin. It was so easy to hide in the beginning.

Why I started drinking

Alcohol started out as a curiosity for me. Everyone in school was drinking on the weekends so eventually I started drinking too. I liked alcohol because I was shy, and being drunk gave me confidence. I discovered that people did like me and thought I was fun. The problem was: I had friends when I drank but the next day they weren’t there.

Hi, my name is Melessa...

Anyone who is a recovering alcoholic knows admitting you have a problem is the first step to getting help. It’s much easier than it sounds. I was able to first admit it five months ago, and as a result, my life is finally starting to get better.

Hi, my name is Melessa, and I’m an alcoholic. I’m 27 years old and on the bumpy road to recovery for alcoholism, anorexia and depression. It’s been quite a ride, but the future finally looks bright. I hope you enjoy reading about my journey to my darkest days and how I’m slowly piecing my life back together. I will be posting regularly, so be sure to bookmark this page and check back often.

My road to recovery is just beginning and sometimes it seems overwhelming, so how do I do it?

One day at a time.