Kerrie Atherton (Guest) · 03:07
Well, the beginning was in Lane Cove in Sydney, and I was the eldest daughter of two alcoholic parents. I had two younger brothers. My mum was 23, um, by the time she had my other brother. And so she had 3 children at 23, under 3, uh, and she was an alcoholic. And she also struggled with what we now know is bipolar. Back then it was called manic depression. And my dad was the child of 2 alcoholic parents also, who unfortunately passed away my grandmother probably in her late 40s and my dad's dad in his early 50s, and they died from alcoholism. So there was very much that genetic predisposition that we— a lot of studies have shown that with alcoholism that there is a pre-genetic disposition. And I felt like I have always been, um, you hear this in the 12-step rooms, but, but born an alcoholic. I always felt like I was different to everyone else. I carried a veil of shame, I think, for the family. My dad was sober before I was born, but we never talked about my mum's drinking. And I hear a lot of alcoholic children, uh, of parents of alcoholics talk about this, and there's that feeling that something's not right, but you just don't know what it is. And then I had a couple of, uh, very traumatic events happen in my early childhood, one when I was 7 and then one when I was 9 years old as well. And I was also being bullied at school at the same time. At 10 years old, I had a breakdown and my parents took me to the psychiatrist, uh, who was caring for them also at the time, and he prescribed anti-anxiety medication and antidepressants for me. And that was the start of my escape into prescription medication addiction. I wanted to do anything I could to black out the fear and anxiety that was running through my mind and my veins every single day. I lived absolutely terrified after the event when I was 9 that the person that had attacked me on holidays was going to track me down and kill me because they had our address. And I had no safe haven at home and no safe haven at school, and I felt very alone in the world, uh, very anxious, very fearful. We had some really great happy times, and my parents really loved us kids, so they created a very loving environment for us. But up until my mum stopped drinking at 12, you could never really predict the atmosphere at home. And that was a bit of a turning point when she did stop drinking at 12, when I was 12 years old. We started going to, um, I started going to Alateen meetings then, which was for children of alcoholics. And so right back then I learned all about the power of connection and the power of what hearing a lived experience story can do for somebody who feels totally alone because I heard from other kids that were going through what I'd been through and what I was going through, and having a support group there and being used to getting up and having an opportunity to share about how I felt was just a real lifesaver, uh, back then at that young age. I was the youngest person in the room at Alitim. Um, most of the people were older than me, but at 12, that was the age that you could start going and It was just very, very healing and cathartic to be able to get up to a group of people who understood and be able to share what was going on behind closed doors where you could never talk about that anywhere else. Fast forward to, uh, the age of 15, I'd had 3 years of an absolute, uh, spiral into the deepest depression. I had a very big weight problem and I was bullied relentlessly through the first couple of years of high school. And one of my most horrific memories and the most horrific thing to wake up to each day was the fact that I had to get on the school bus. And I knew that standing at that bus stop that there was, you know, hundreds of sets of eyes staring at me and laughing and mocking and then having to get up those steps onto that bus, and the feeling of public humiliation just nearly destroyed me. Many of those days before I turned 15, between 12 and 15, uh, I was still abusing the medication, but I used to go to sleep at night and wish that I would never wake up because I wouldn't know how I was going to get through another day of the relentless bullying at school and just the feelings of isolation and loneliness. I had one saving grace, and that was that my dad and mum had got me piano lessons when I was 7. And so I played the piano, and I was really good at the piano. So that was something that I used to escape in, and I, I played the piano for ages every single day for hours, and I'm so glad that I, I had that because even though the piano can't talk back, it kind of makes you feel like you're not alone. Um, and it was also an outlet for my emotions, which was something that I desperately needed because I didn't feel like I could really talk to anyone about what was going on inside my head. But when I was 15, I picked up my first drink and I was an instant alcoholic. I couldn't stop at one. I loved the way that it made me feel. Rather than how it tasted. My first drink was from a cask of wine that my brothers had hidden in a caravan across the road in the middle of summer. So it was like boiling hot wine. And I drank nearly the whole cask that day. I was violently ill, but I just loved the effect so much. And it just took— it was like an anaesthetic. It took away all the stuff that was going on in my head, all the fear, all the pain, all the loneliness. And I thought, this is what I need to get through the rest of my life. But the damage happened very, very quickly. By the age of 16, everybody that I knew, my, all my parents' friends that were in AA, my parents, my boyfriend, were all telling me I was an alcoholic. And I thought, there's no possible way that I could be an alcoholic at 16. That's just ridiculous. And I went to a couple of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings to appease my parents because I just wanted to get everyone off my back. I'm like, let me drink in peace. Let me enjoy my, you know, teenage years. That's what everybody's doing. But I was different to everyone and I couldn't realize it at the time. I couldn't understand though, when I would wake up on strange people's fences with strangers around me, not knowing how I got there. The night that 4 guys in a back lane tried to drag me into a car and I fought them off. The night that I tried to fight a girl in the toilets, uh, the night that I tried to smash my boyfriend's windscreen up. I, I wasn't a violent person and I became so aggressive when I drank. And then the feeling the next day of remorse, regret, shame. And I remember saying to my parents over and over again, oh, I'll never drink again. And my mum used to say famous last words, and my dad had a saying too, hair of the dog. And that means you just go back and have another drink. It's the hair of the dog that bit you, and alcohol bit me over and over again, but I just kept going back for more because that's the cycle of addiction. You drink to escape what you're feeling, but then after drinking or taking substances, the feelings are magnified so greatly that you need to drink or use again to numb those feelings, and then you're back on the merry-go-round again. I ended up drinking every day by the age of 18. I was hiding bottles under my bed. I still lived at home, and I thought that my parents really weren't aware what was going on. Just prior to that, I had had an accidental overdose which saw me out of, in an out-of-body experience, watching myself on the floor of a nightclub toilet. That night I was absolutely terrified and I believe that I was so close to death and I, I was praying that God would let me live. And I said, if you let me live, I'll tell my parents exactly what I've, the truth of my addiction and, and how bad it's got. And I did live. I can't remember anything else about that time. But I do know that I did go and talk to my parents and I went to a couple, a couple more meetings. In the rooms of AA, there was a lot of really old people at the time. I was like the youngest and there was a lot of people my age, you know, back then, you know, old people. But they would point at me when they would get up and speak and they'd say, I wished, I wished I had found this when I was your age because if I did, I wouldn't have lost my family. I wouldn't have lost my job. I wouldn't have ended up in hospital. I wouldn't, wouldn't have ended up in a psychiatric ward. I wouldn't have ended up killing that person. I wouldn't have ended up losing everything. And those words just rang in my ears over and over again from that point, every time I drank. And I used to think to myself, how close am I? Obviously I wasn't married. At that stage and didn't have a family, but I used to think, how close am I to losing everything and to losing my life? I'd been on a holiday, um, I'd met yet another boyfriend. For me, having a boyfriend was like breathing air. I needed it to live because it showed me that somebody cared about me. But the boyfriends that I chose were very abusive and they got worse and worse, and I really just settled for whoever would have me in their life because I hated myself so much that I didn't think that I deserved anybody better than them. And this person was, uh, an alcoholic who had been in the army and was quite abusive and aggressive. And we'd been on a holiday and he'd punched me in front of families in a holiday caravan park while we were waiting in the reception area. And that had never happened to me before. And when I got back from that holiday, I remember waking up one particular day and I just lost all hope. And I want to give a trigger warning now that I'm about to talk about suicide. Uh, I didn't really want to die, but I didn't know how to live anymore. And you hear that so often with people who are suicidal. So I planned that day that I would end my life. But in that moment, I heard a loud voice say, don't do it. If you hang on a bit longer, you'll find happiness one day. I'd been brought up with a faith, and I believed that that was the voice of God giving me a second chance. And so I rang Alcoholics Anonymous because I'd heard things that I related to in those rooms. I thought I was too young, but I knew that what they had been through would be my future if I didn't stop drinking. I wanted to have a go at sobriety, and I went to a meeting that night, and I haven't picked up a drink since that day. And that has been, oh, 41 years now. Um, I never thought that I could not drink for one day back then. Uh, it was, um, it was so hard in the beginning because I was the youngest person, um, in the room, and there was one other girl that was younger than me, and she sadly lost the battle. She got sober, but then she went out and drank again thinking that she could control it, and she never made it back into the rooms. But I think that was the real grounding for me to have the passion to help people. Seeing so many thousands of people over that time get up and share their stories and me walk alongside the new people that would come in and help them on their journeys, I saw just miracle after miracle in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I just saw so much hope in so many people. And I learned a lot about gratitude there because you'd hear people get up and talk about getting excited about getting their license back, or being able to get out of bed after 4 days and have a shower, being able to, you know, start going to the hairdresser and look after themselves again. And this was all stuff that people took for granted, but In those rooms, you really learn about what people that have hit the absolute bottom of the earth go through. And then to see them today and how functioning they are is— it's the greatest hope that anybody can really have, is to see that person in front of you. So I eventually got married, um, and met the love of my life, uh, a guy that I never thought I deserved. And, and the type of person that I always wanted to end up with. And we've had two amazing children, and I have two beautiful granddaughters. And that's something that sobriety has given me. If I hadn't stopped drinking, that would have never happened. I've got an amazing, um, job today counseling, um, other people that are going through addictions. And I went through quite a few years where I felt like I recovered well, but I also always had something lurking in the background, and it was depression. And it would rise its head every now and then, and when times got tough and things happened. And when I actually had my, my children, I had very bad postnatal depression, but I could always pull myself out with the help of the Alcoholics Anonymous program and my faith. But then I moved up here to the Sunshine Coast and my support network was my family. I had my bro— my, um, mum and dad in Alcoholics Anonymous, and I was very close to my brothers and we were all like codependent. And when I left my family in Sydney to move up to the Sunshine Coast, um, I was really grief-stricken and so were my parents. And I actually held onto the belief for a long time that I'd destroyed my mum's life., as a result of that move. And a year and a half after we moved up here, she got cancer. And she lasted for about 4 years, but 11 months of that at the end was in a palliative care ward. And I had to travel from the Sunshine Coast to Sydney and go and see her. And that was the hardest year of my life. I still have a lot of that locked away. I've relatively dealt with it now, but there's still a lot of things about that year that I've blocked out and I, I really can't think about. Uh, but I had a lot of, uh, trauma happen after that and, um, lost other family members. And then my dad was diagnosed with last stages of emphysema. And I was very, very close to my dad. He was my number one encourager in life. And eventually he passed away about 6 years ago. And at that same time, my husband became very, very ill and suffered a burnout, um, a breakdown, and was also diagnosed with osteoporosis and told that he had the bones of an 85-year-old. I didn't have any time to breathe since my mum had become sick. There was so many events and so many things that just kept happening that I was in maintenance mode and I just had to keep going. And I didn't have any time to process each trauma. As it happened, um, it's Chuck in there, you know, it was a, a, a big car accident. I was actually bullied at work and had to leave my workplace. Um, I had post-traumatic stress from that job. Um, there was so many other things that happened, but I can't even recall everything because there was just so much. And so eventually after my dad died and my husband became ill, I collapsed in an absolute heap and it was like everything from You know, those past 15 years just caught up with me and I felt like I was out at sea in a king tide. I was trying to get to shore. I could see the shore, but every time I moved my arm, you know, to take a stroke forward towards getting there, I would be slammed by another wave and I felt like I was drowning. I locked myself away for a period of time, pulled myself out of my regular events. And hardly anybody noticed that there was anything wrong with me. And I was really in the fight for my life then. I nearly started drinking again and I just felt like the loneliest person in the world. And really became evident to me something that I talk about a lot today is that often it can be the person that you would least expect to be struggling. That can be struggling the most. And for nobody to ever judge from an outward appearance, because we see people where they're at now, but we don't see the rest of their journey, and we don't see where they've come from. So that led to me being determined after a light bulb moment to make a difference in other people's lives. I've never— I was very self-centered through my active addiction, but once I got sober, I became very others-centered. And that's been one of the greatest keys to my recovery is service to others. And I really wanted to create a space where other people didn't feel as alone as I had felt in their pain. So I started Stories of Hope Australia and I gathered, uh, 30 people turned up the first night where I shared my vision about how I wanted to make a difference to people who were going through hard times in my community. And that led to a 6-year, every single month, um, except through COVID, where I had a man and a woman gather together and share their stories of how they overcame adversity and how they found hope. And I wrote 3 books as a result of all those stories. I didn't want to just keep those stories to those events because the stories were so powerful and so impactful that I wanted to share a piece of Stories of Hope with the rest of the world. So just launched my third book, Lightbulb Moments Through the Eyes of Men. And that's a bit of my story in, in a nutshell. There's a lot more to it, but that's just the basic outline of where I came from, what happened, and the purpose that I've been able to find through my hard times to help bring thousands and thousands of other people hope.