But now a couple of years into recovery, I’ve had a change of heart on the matter. The truth is that alcohol nearly killed me twice, which makes me a two-time survivor. A badass even, according to the not-so-great success rates for people who used to drink like me. Nothing about addiction is for the faint of heart, and I’ve paid a hefty price for my hard- earned wisdom. But every gut-wrenching fall has turned out to be a gift and every moment of pain has served a purpose. By overcoming addiction, I’ve learned to look inward for strength and truth versus outward for acceptance and approval. After years of hiding behind a mask and trying to moderate alcohol, I now know the difference between not drinking and true recovery. I have finally found freedom—it just required two rock bottoms for me to get there. Perhaps some will read this as a cautionary tale; perhaps others will read it and relate. Either way, today I own and honor my story—the whole of it, blemishes and all— and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’VE HAD TO GET SOBER TWICE—THE BEST, MOST BRUTAL THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME, TIMES TWO. AS A PERFECTIONIST, I USED TO HATE THAT A SECOND TRIP TO REHAB WAS PART OF MY STORY—A BLEMISH ON MY RECOVERY RECORD IF YOU WILL.
HOLA SOBER | MADRID
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker