I practice imperfectly

Ten summers ago, in 2012, after spending 28 days in a 24/7 lockdown hospital psych ward, I was admitted to a longer term, partial inpatient eating disorder program just outside of Toledo, Ohio. It was the second of the six treatment experiences I have had and I will never, ever forget it.

At the time, I was under the age of 26 and still included in my parents upper-middle class health insurance coverage. This allowed me to experience a holistic, woman-led program rooted in compassion, psycho education, exposure therapy, DBT, mindfulness, and actual scientific research. Even though I was in treatment, it was still one of the most magical summers of my entire life. The intensely vulnerable nature of treatment allowed me to form deep, healing friendships with my fellow patients.

One of my favorite parts of this program was its step-down process. This meant during the final few weeks of treatment, I would drive home, spend a few days with my parents, and then come back to treatment and process how the home visit went. My therapist understood that returning home after being held in the confines of treatment would be difficult and triggering. I was given space to practice, even if that meant I had a slip.

There was zero expectation to practice this new skill perfectly. There was no punishing. My treatment team and I were simply collecting data points. No shame necessary.

Fast forward to the summer of 2016. I was on probation for my second DUI, no longer covered by my parent’s fancy insurance, and had just completed 4 different state-funded, Twelve Step based inpatient rehab programs over a nine month period. This time, instead of being treated for a much more socially acceptable eating disorder, I was being treated as a low-life alcoholic. Financially, I was forced into a traumatizing and dehumanizing system that believes shame, powerlessness, and criminalization are the path to healing. If I didn’t recover perfectly, I would be sent to jail for years.

For the past decade, I have always wondered why humans who struggle with substance abuse are punished so much more harshly than those who struggle with eating disorders. The root causes of my eating disorder and my addictions are exactly the same. It doesn't make sense that my eating disorder was given way more grace than my alcohol addiction.

If I learned one thing in treatment ten years ago, it’s that I am allowed to normalize imperfections as I begin practicing an alcohol-free life. With Tempest, the addict shaming involved in slips or relapses has been replaced with holistic compassion. I am proud to say that I have only slipped with alcohol 4 times in the past 16 months. I have not been perfect, but I am practicing something brand new - in a culture obsessed with my drug of choice - at a 99.18% success rate. What a fucking miracle.

In my experience, the most effective way to start building an alcohol-free life is to allow myself the grace of imperfection.

I practice imperfectly.