Reflections on Recovery: My One-Sided Relationship with Alcohol

The Illusion of Dedication

For years, I was in a one-sided relationship with alcohol.

I showed up for it every day with loyalty, dedication, and belief. I convinced myself it gave me life: confidence, comfort, even joy.

The truth was simpler and more brutal: it never once showed up for me in the ways that mattered.

It wasn’t even steady or consistent. Alcohol and I had an on-and-off relationship. There were times I spent months in sobriety, building clarity and hope, only to let it creep back in again. I gave it chance after chance, despite knowing exactly where it would lead. Each reunion felt like a new beginning, but always ended the same: destruction.

Pride in the Poison

My relationship with alcohol began in college. It was fast-paced, reckless, and quickly tied to a reputation. People knew me for my drinking, and I played into it. Part of me felt ashamed, but another part felt proud, as if being “that girl” at the party gave me an identity.

Beneath the surface, I was clinging to alcohol to distract myself from insecurity and self-doubt. It gave me a sense of false confidence, a version of myself I thought was bolder, freer, and more alive. In reality, it was just another mask, a performance that hid how uncertain I really felt inside.

I deceived myself so completely that I didn’t just drink, I wore my drinking like a badge. I became known for my binges. People associated me with alcohol the way they might associate a spouse with their partner. In a twisted way, it was almost as if alcohol and I were married. Everyone else could see the clear absence of a healthy relationship, a disastrous one at best. As for me, I clung to the toxicity because it gave me a twisted sense of validation.

Looking back, that should have embarrassed me. Others could see what I couldn’t: that I was destroying myself in plain sight. In my mind, it was something to be proud of. I told myself there was nothing wrong with a drink. I convinced myself that the laughter, the partying, the reputation, all of it meant I was alive, fun, and free. The reality was different. I was chained.

When It Did Show Up

When alcohol did “show up,” it didn’t love me. It destroyed me. It broke down my body, clouded my mind, and chipped away at my spirit. Like someone clinging to a dead relationship, I kept returning, hoping for a different ending.

That is the cruel rhythm of addiction. It convinces you that this time will be different, this time it will deliver on its promises. Yet every time I let it back in, I ended up back in the same place: broken, ashamed, and alone.

The Isolation No One Saw

What I had to accept in the end was the brutal isolation. Even after alienating myself from others, I still held tightly to alcohol as if it was all I had left. I kept silent, convincing myself that hiding my struggle made it less real. In my mind, I told myself I could control it, but in truth, it was controlling me. Silence did not save me. Silence was the lie that kept me chained.

Perhaps that was the turning point: the moment I realized that despite my “marriage” to alcohol, I was alone, miserable, and trying to convince others, and myself, that something dead was still alive.

Addiction and Illusion

Addiction is the master of illusion. It makes you proud of what you should be ashamed of. It convinces you that a toxic bond is something worth celebrating. It tells you something is alive and well when it is already dead. It persuades you that holding on is safer than letting go.

Alcohol is not the only place this shows up. People can become our addictions, but so can jobs, careers, or identities that we pour ourselves into, even when they drain us. We convince ourselves the long hours, the loyalty, the sacrifice will eventually pay off. Deep down, we know: if it’s taking more than it’s giving, it’s not life-giving. It is destructive.

The Parallel We Don’t Like to Admit

Here’s the hard truth: whether it’s a bottle, a person, or an obsession with work, you can be addicted to something that is never going to love you back. We over-invest, over-believe, and overcompensate, while it fails to show up in any meaningful way. We tell ourselves it’s alive, when deep down we know it’s lifeless.

The Awakening

My recovery forced me to stop spinning illusions. I had to see alcohol for what it was: not a partner, not a friend, not a savior. Just a substance that could only take and never give. Once I saw it clearly, the grip began to break.

The same is true in any one-sided relationship. The moment you stop convincing yourself it’s love and start recognizing it as destruction, you open the door to freedom.

Closing Thought

Whether it’s a bottle, a person, or a job that consumes more than it gives, if it only shows up to destroy you, it’s not love. It is addiction.

This reflection is part of an ongoing September series in honor of Recovery Awareness Month.

Recovery is Real. Follow @iamvictoriousonline