We are getting close to the end of my story; hang in there!
You would think that experience would scare me straight, but it didn’t. Neither did the conference with my mom and my principal where he showed her the pictures, and she found out about my drinking for the first time. She was shocked and furious, but she thought it was just normal teenage rebellion and experimentation. She had no idea how much or how often I was actually drinking (we always refilled her bottles with water, and once in a while Carmen’s older brother in college would buy us new bottles when they were completely empty).
Instead of sobering up, Carmen and I just got sneakier with our drinking. It was us against the world; we even hid how much we were still drinking from our boyfriends. They had gotten in trouble, too, but unlike us, had decided to stop drinking so they wouldn’t get kicked off athletic teams. Carmen and I cared way more about drinking than anything else, including the boys.
We didn’t need anybody else. My mom was still working nights, so we just kept up our same routine together of drinking every day. When we went to parties, because Carmen was always invited and I was known by now as an extension of Carmen (plus I usually brought booze, so people liked me), we really let loose and got blackout drunk every single time.
It was at one of those parties where I hit rock bottom.
It started out as a weekend night like any other. It was a Saturday, and Carmen and I were at yet another party with the boys. We were drunk and playing drinking games, when next thing I knew, I was in the hospital.
I had an IV in my arm, and my throat hurt. I was told that an ambulance had brought me in for alcohol poisoning. My stomach had been pumped, which was why my throat hurt from the tubes they used. I was getting fluids, electrolytes and vitamins pumped in through the IV. I felt awful.
My mom was there, and she was crying. I found out later that I had drunk so much I was vomiting a lot and passed out. A girl at the party got worried because I was breathing funny and wondered if she should call 911. I was told that Carmen and even my own boyfriend told her not to because they didn’t want to get in trouble. Luckily for me, she didn’t listen to them and called 911 anyway. The doctors told me if I hadn’t been brought to the hospital I surely would have died.
This was my wakeup call and the moment I knew I needed to get sober.