The year was 2017. I lay in a hospital bed, unsure of my surroundings. I could not walk, eat, remember my name, or correctly identify a lion on an aptitude test. I was informed that I’d had an alcohol withdrawal seizure so severe that my prognosis was uncertain. I had been in a medically induced coma for 10 days. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I drank again, I would die.
It had not always been like this. I was born in Rota, Spain, the first child of two loving parents who worked for overseas schools. I spent the majority of my days running outdoors, soaking up the sun and being spoiled by neighbors. We moved every few years and we lived in Italy, Germany, the Azores, Japan, and Albania.
Despite an idyllic upbringing, I never completely felt like I belonged. I became an excellent chameleon, adapting to a new school and culture as circumstances warranted. I played sports, including soccer, cross country, and cheerleading. My mother was an excellent horsewoman, and I was a fixture at various stables. I was accomplished academically and appeared confident but inwardly I was deeply conflicted. I became depressed, though I was skilled at hiding my tears and turmoil.
My drinking slowly started to escalate. First it was a respectable two glasses of wine per night grading English papers as a teacher. Then that turned into hard liquor. By that time, I had been accepted to graduate school for Social Work at the University of Louisville.
The increase in alcohol started having consequences. Somehow, I made it through graduate school with nearly a 4.0 grade point average, swigging vodka straight out of water bottles in the school library. I do not know how my friends were not aware of my near-constant inebriation nor how I managed to not kill or injure myself or others. I drove drunk every day, a fact that haunts me to this day.
My husband and I moved to Minnesota, where I would live for the next 10 years. I was not raised with any kind of faith, and my introduction to my Higher Power occurred in a defining moment in 2014. After years of denying my drinking to my husband and family, one day I surrendered, fell to my knees, and admitted that I was an alcoholic and needed help.
At this point, I was downing drinks first thing in the morning to still my trembling hands. Ironically, I was never in denial about being an alcoholic. I was well aware that I fit the criteria for alcoholism. Yet for years I believed I could curb or eliminate my drinking on my own without anyone knowing. The voice that emanated me was not my own, as I intended to steadfastly deny my drinking to my grave.
I relapsed in 2015. I tried various measures to curtail my ability to obtain alcohol. I gave my husband my driver’s license and debit cards and car keys. This led to one occasion where I walked one mile in sub-zero temperatures to the liquor store, shoplifted a handle of vodka, and drank so much that I passed out in the snow on the way back to my house. I also obtained my first DUI, when I somehow drove to a Chinese Restaurant and passed out in my car. I called my husband from jail, despondent and ashamed, and he bailed me out. I had to install an ignition interlock device after that which required me to blow into it to start.
I returned to treatment again. I was a social worker and knew the information they were teaching—particularly as I’d heard it about one year prior—but it gave me a renewed vigor for sobriety and introduced me to a cohort of powerful, determined women. Between the ignition interlock and my dedication to recovery meetings and the 12 steps, I managed to stay sober for roughly two years. It was not easy. I drank to escape an unhappy marriage. I drank to numb my anxiety and depression. Giving up alcohol is the easier part; learning to live sober is exceedingly difficult.
Then came another relapse in 2017. Prior to my next severe consequence, I had the usual alcoholic experiences. Hiding liquor in obscure places around the house (my husband usually found it because I’d become so inebriated I’d stumble boldly to the bottle). I had regular blackouts which resulted in frantically checking text messages and peering around the house to piece together (unsuccessfully) what had transpired the previous day.
Many family vacations were ruined by me having a variety of alcohol-induced vitriolic arguments or histrionic meltdowns or blessedly passing out for the entire day. I could procure alcohol by the most imaginative methods. One Christmas, my parents, sisters, and I were vacationing in Prague, and I somehow obtained the currency, claimed jetlag to remain behind, and found a liquor store where I drank something so horrible that my liver probably almost quit there and then. Then came my second DUI in 2016, followed by jail once again, with graver consequences and exorbitant legal fees.
I entered treatment yet again. Through the years I had never lost my determination to fight for sobriety. I had our first child in 2017, followed by two more in 2020 and 2022. I have worked all of the steps and believe they are essentially a program for life. I continue to go to meetings and read recovery literature. I connect with recovering alcoholics.
In 2019, I returned to obtain another graduate degree in Addiction Studies. I became a licensed alcohol and drug counselor. I worked in outpatient treatment leading groups and in residential facilities. I now work as a therapist but retain my alcohol and drug counselor credentials. I wrote a memoir. Ideally, I would like to work with co-occurring disorders. I want to dedicate my life’s work to giving back to others what was given to me: the gift of sobriety.
Alison Peyton Ashby writes articles and books about her childhood experiences overseas and living with the disease of addiction. Alison writes a blog titled Progress not Perfection, detailing humorous adventures spanning from motherhood to recovery from addiction to life in Northern Minnesota. Alison graduated with an MS from the University of Louisville’s Kent School of Social Work. After working with marginalized populations, she returned to obtain an MA in Integrated Recovery from Co-Occurring Disorders from the Hazelden Betty Ford Graduate School of Addiction Studies. She has utilized her dual licensure to practice in as a Therapist and Alcohol and Drug Counselor. Connect with her at alisonpeyton.com.
Last Updated on March 24, 2025