In July 2014, I found myself in what felt like a hole that I would never be able to scrape my way out of. At this point my drinking had taken over my life completely for over a year. I was unable to drink like a ‘normal person’. If I had more than a couple of drinks, I would feel the insatiable thirst for more and more and more. There was never enough, until I passed out. Waking up from drinking felt like every ounce of emotional pain I’d ever felt rolled into one huge ball, hitting me around the head, punching me in the stomach, over and over again. It was unbearable. Some people may think this weak. That’s OK. I felt weak. I would have done anything at that moment for alcohol, to make that pain go away. I often wonder if for an addict emotional pain feels different or if it is just that we are weak and unable to bear these feelings. I suppose I will never know as I can never feel another human’s pain. Either way, when I woke up from numbing the pain, I would check cupboards, try to drain the dregs of bottles I’d emptied weeks before. At this stage I was sharing a flat with a friends brother. We had a good friendship. He didn’t try to take advantage of my complete lack of self esteem as so many other ‘friends’ had. I relied on him too much though, for emotional and financial support. I was deeply infatuated with my current boyfriend. From the first day I’d met him, I knew, I had to be with him. Possibly the first man I ever actively pursued. In a world that felt dark, empty, impossible, he was the only light. I now understand that this can never work. The day I discovered he was cheating on me, was like no other, the pain that was kept at bay using my two drugs of choice, alcohol and a man, came flooding in, engulfing my mind and body like a tidal wave. Whilst he was still in my bed, sleeping, I went out and bought two bottles of vodka, down an alleyway, I poured a bottle of a soft drink away, poured in the alcohol, then wandered to the local park and sat under a tree, drinking back the numbing liquid. Nothing could numb that pain though. When I went back, he didn’t notice that I’d been drinking, he never did, so wrapped up in himself. Eventually I told him to leave my flat. I screamed, shouted, pushed him out of the door. The next 3 days are a blur. I would drink until I passed out, wake, drink until I passed out, sob . uncontrollably. I was told after that friends came to visit but I had passed out. Unconscious but still with tears streaming down my face. On the fourth morning, a Saturday, I was meant to be at my nieces birthday party. I made it to the train station, still so drunk, I got on the train. I arrived at the town where my brother lives. Fear engulfed me, I couldn’t turn up this drunk, I just couldn’t do it. I went into the toilets, lay on the dirty floor, sobbing, my heart breaking, my world crumbling. I had nothing left. I couldn’t keep a job. I was sacked from 5 that year, mostly for not turning up. I would sit and look at people on facebook, going for walks, so jealous that they were able to do these things, knowing that even if I stayed sober for long enough to do these things, I would only be waiting for the moment that I could get drunk. I was useless, a waste of air, life, space. I had to get out. Out of my life, out of letting people down, out of not living my life. I got back onto a return train. when I was near home, I went into my local shop, bought every type of medication I could and as much vodka as I could afford. I went home and washed it all down. The next thing I remember is waking up in a room in hospital with my younger brother holding my hand and crying. My dad, begging me not to do this to him. A nurse or doctor asked if I still wanted to die, I did. That day I ran away from the hospital, went home, started drinking again, saw the police coming, climbed out of my window, hid under a car, ran around my local area wearing no shoes and eventually was found and taken to hospital. I spent a few days on a mental health ward. This was a terrifying few days, I remember thinking, if I can just get out of here I will never be sad again. The staff on that ward didn’t care. They didn’t help. I was alone, scared, depressed, lost. After I left the ward, I started drinking again. This went on until November 5th 2014. This should have been my turning point, sometimes rock bottom doesn’t look like you imagine it to.