Recovery Journey - Part 1 of 3

By Terri Rimmer

My sobriety date this time around is Dec. 8, 1995.

I grew up in an alcoholic, abusive home and alcoholism's roots run deep on my mother's side of the family, causing much tragedy.

From the time I was a kid I remember being anxious, not fitting in, feeling like a misfit. I was bullied all through school and I thank God for my big sister, Cindy who pretty much raised me from the time I was eight when our mom took off to live with her boyfriend who would later become our step dad. Our dad was there but worked a lot of hours and abused us. 

After our parents' divorce when I was eight, Cindy and I briefly attended Smyrna Church of Christ and went to their Bible camp for four years in the summer which I have fond memories of. Though we had attended the Catholic church as kids sporadically, my dad having grown up in the faith, I was afraid of God and I remember while attending the Catholic church the priest scared me when he preached about hell and damnation. But I enjoyed the Church of Christ even though I would often daydream during the sermons and had no concept of God. I did blame Him for all the bad things in my life and didn't understand why He would let my dad abuse us.  

When I was 11 I went to live with my mom and step dad and Cindy went into foster care because of my dad's abuse.  There was a fully stocked bar in the house and my great aunt and uncle would often come visit and party. My mom and step dad were daily drinkers while I always vowed I would never turn out like my mom. I would later surpass her.

I remember my first taste of alcohol was at the age of 12 when I accidentally took a sip of my dad's Coke and bourbon which was sitting next to my glass of Coke at a party. It tasted awful, burned my throat but I do remember enjoying the feeling of it. Later that year, I had my first blackout, courtesy of my step dad, an alcoholic when he told the waitress at The Moose Lodge we always went to, to spike my Shirley Temple for the first time. I would always get Shirley Temples there for years but I vividly remember him telling her to spike this drink this time and the next thing I remember we were home and I was dizzy and couldn't walk.

When I was 13 my second cousin and I, who were kindred spirits due to our abusive dads, wound up raiding the bar at my house and watering down some of the liquor. Another time we hung out with a friend of his and got drunk.

When I was 17 I started doing speed and used that for six months when I was in a juvenile home that I didn't belong in. I also sold the drug at school under the tutelage of a couple of friends of mine in the girls' bathroom and even in front of the school office. At the same time I was in a school play and working at Six Flags, trying to better myself. In the juvenile home I was being mistreated by the staff and so that just fueled my rage. Thirty-five years later, the home was torn down and a four-lane stands there now. God works in mysterious ways.

By the time I was 18 I had moved roughly 23 times, had been in four mental institutes, a children's home, juvenile home, emergency shelter, back and forth between my parents, and four foster homes so I became very adaptable. I also took acting lessons and got stuff published because I always knew from the time I was eight that I wanted to be a writer. My acting teacher told me I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag. Years later I would prove him wrong. Because I turned into such a chameleon that I could tell you what you wanted to hear, be whatever you wanted me to be, depending on the situation. It was a survival mechanism.

I graduated from high school by the skin of my teeth, thanks to my friend, Melody, who was deeply religious, who helped me cram for my American Government final for three days since I was failing and would not graduate if I couldn't pull my grade up from a D. My teacher didn't care that I was going to age out of foster care and I'd be on the street. She had given me a deficiency slip a few days before and said if I didn't get a "B" on the final I wouldn't graduate. I thank God for Melody to this day for helping me graduate. 

I spent a tumultuous summer with my mom and step dad, working at the Parks and Recreation Department as secretary but quickly getting demoted to the greenhouse because I was unemployable and wouldn't ask questions, but just jump the gun. I spent that summer partying with my best friend Kim, bar hopping, only caring about my image. I was young, skinny, and pretty and only valued myself for that. I had no God in my life. I spent lots of time with Kim. I idolized her and wanted to be just like her because she was gorgeous and could get all these guys.

I went off to college in the fall with no life skills, no God, and, based on visiting my sister every year on spring break while I was in high school, thinking college was just one big party, was headed for disaster.

It started off rocky. I didn't really drink my freshman year but I had a promiscuous roommate and though I had moved around a lot, I didn't know how to deal with college. It was terrifying. All these people were normal.

I joined the newspaper staff and they were all heavy drinkers but they didn't let me into their club for a long time.

By the spring of my freshman year I was on academic probation and had to get my journalism professor to write a letter to get me back in along with my English professor. I didn't know how to study, I didn't know how to function. I couldn't function because of my roommate, I couldn't deal with my PTSD, I had no God in my life, my anxiety was through the roof. I had to hide all this from my mom when I came home for spring break, making secret phone calls back and forth to the registrar's office and to the dean's office.

When they let me back in, I came back with strong willpower and spent all my time studying like crazy, determined I would not slip this time.

That summer I got a live-in babysitting job out in the country but I got taken advantage of after a week or so when I found out they weren't going to pay me and that the job was in exchange for room and board. The husband kept trying to take advantage of me in other ways and finally after two months I had my mom and step dad come get me since I didn't have a car.