The breakup: My goodbye letter to alcohol

To my love affair with alcohol,

You made me feel warm, supported, understood, seen and loved.

I saw you as a constant friend who could always be relied on to nurse my broken heart, increase my bravado, allow the tears to flow, calm my nerves, decrease my stress and increase my connection with others.

Red wine: I thought I needed you.

Rose: I thought I loved you.

But then you started taking way more than you were giving. Leaving me far worse off than how you found me.

I now realize you were keeping me from my truth.

You were keeping me away from the light.

From God.

From actually dealing with what was going on in my life.

From healing, completely.

“That’s how you can tell that you’re filling yourself with the wrong things. You use a lot of energy, and in the end, you feel emptier and less comfortable than ever.”
— Glennon Doyle Melton

I look back on all the shame, the pain, the embarrassment and the regret that my dependence on you brought into my life.

The ruined friendships.

The damaged marriage.

The havoc you wreaked on my physical body.

The gutting of my worthiness.

And I’m stunned at how long I kept you around.

I’ll admit, I’m having some trouble forgetting about the ritual that we created together.

An embrace at the end of the day, meeting after the kids went to bed, celebrating special occasions, tucking in with you on a cold winter night.

But every day. I’m taking small steps

to create new rituals.

One’s that nourish my body and feed my soul.

New ways of connecting with the people in my life.

Ways of being my true self.

Ones that I’m proud to share with my children.

Alcohol, thank you for being there for me over the last 21 years.

But you no longer serve me.

I’m releasing you. All of you.

Forevermore.

In your place, I welcome in increased health, abundance, self-worth, connection, unconditional love and God’s grace.

And the deep pleasure in knowing

that this generational pain

this family addiction pattern

ENDS WITH ME.

-Bri

Bri McCorkell