There’s a version of me I used to avoid at all costs.
She lived in old photos I couldn’t delete but didn’t want to look at.
She showed up in flashbacks I tried to drink away before I ever quit.
She carried so much pain, but covered it with laughter.
She was loud. Sloppy. Apologetic. Hurting.
And I hated her.
I carried shame like a shadow. I’d wake up remembering pieces of the night before and instantly want to crawl out of my skin. I’d say “never again” on a loop. But each time I broke that promise to myself, the shame deepened. The guilt wasn’t just about what I did while drinking — it was about who I believed I was because of it.
And for a long time, I believed I didn’t deserve peace.
Why Shame Runs So Deep in Sobriety
Shame is sneaky. It doesn’t just whisper “You did something bad.”
It screams, “You are bad.”
Alcohol, especially when it becomes a coping mechanism, is never just about the drink. It’s about the version of ourselves we become when we don’t know how else to deal. The moments we disconnect from who we are because it feels easier than facing what hurts. And when we wake up from that numbness, everything we tried to avoid comes rushing in at once — unfiltered.
We remember the birthdays missed because we were hungover.
The promises broken.
The fights.
The secrets.
The people we hurt — including ourselves.
But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough:
So much of that shame isn’t even ours to carry.
We were taught to believe that we had to “handle our drinks,” to be the fun one, to not make a scene.
And when we couldn’t? We were labeled:
“Too much.”
“Out of control.”
“Embarrassing.”
And then we internalized it.
We turned it into truth.
We believed we were broken.
But Shame Doesn’t Heal You — It Buries You
I thought if I stayed mad at the girl I used to be, I’d never go back to her.
I thought if I punished her with enough silence, judgment, and self-hate, I could finally move on.
But what I didn’t realize is that you can’t heal from a version of yourself you refuse to look at.
You have to meet her.
You have to see her.
And eventually… you have to thank her.
The Shift: From Self-Blame to Self-Compassion
It didn’t happen overnight. In fact, it took me months to even think about my past without a pit in my stomach. But with time — and truth — came a shift.
I started realizing that the girl I was while drinking wasn’t evil.
She was overwhelmed.
Disconnected.
Desperate for peace in a world that felt like too much.
And she did the only thing she knew to do: escape.
She wasn’t trying to ruin her life. She was trying to survive it.
That version of me — the one I used to hate — kept showing up every day, even when she was falling apart. She smiled when she was breaking. She numbed because she didn’t know how to process pain. But most of all, she kept trying.
And for that, I owe her everything.
What Helped Me Let Go of the Shame
Letting go isn’t about erasing your past. It’s about reclaiming it. Here’s what helped me:
- Telling the truth — to myself, first. I had to be honest about what I did, but also about why I did it. Without judgment. Just truth.
- Knowing I can’t change the past — We did the best we could with what we had at the time. It might not have been pretty, but it got us through and lead us to where we are now.
- Talking to others who’d been there — because hearing “me too” is the antidote to shame. It reminded me I wasn’t alone, and that no one was judging me the way I judged myself.
- Reminding myself: I am not her, but I am because of her. My peace now is built on her pain then. My growth is built on her missteps. And my purpose? It comes from helping others out of the place she was once stuck in.
You Don’t Have to Hate Her to Move Forward
If you’re holding shame about who you were while drinking, I want you to know:
You don’t need to hate her to prove you’ve changed.
You don’t need to run from her to build a better life.
You need to thank her.
Because without her, you wouldn’t have woken up to this version of yourself.
The one who keeps showing up.
Who’s building a life she’s proud of.
Who knows how to feel her feelings and stay grounded in them.
Who is growing, even on the hard days.
That’s not just strength. That’s redemption.
Final Thought:
When you’re ready, go back to her.
Not to punish.
Not to pick apart.
But to tell her, “We made it.”
And maybe — just maybe — to thank her for getting you here.
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