hi, I’m Miranda

note (11/14/22): I wrote this over two years ago in very early sobriety when my brain was still on the mend. I don’t think I was a fully-formed human until about 90 days sober. Honestly, this post makes me cringe a little bit because it just soooo is not how I would currently write my story. That being said, the entire point of this post was to share my experience in the hopes that others may feel less alone in theirs. I’ve had lots of people reach out to me in the past two years regarding this post. Basically, it seems like this has helped people, which is more than I ever dreamed of when I originally wrote it. I re-read this post sometimes as a reminder that I absolutely never want to go back to early sobriety, and while I don’t believe in relapse prevention strategies, that’s kind of what this is for me. I’ve thought about removing it from my blog many times because I find it to be so incredibly cringey, but the truth is that this post isn’t really about me. The point is to help other people and as long as it’s doing that, I can’t bring myself to take it down. I edited some of the glaring grammatical & syntax errors because I couldn’t help myself. I also edited some of the content because it was literally just so bad. With all that being said, I hope it does help you in some way.

Hello to all of you beautiful people!

Well, in case you didn't guess by the title, this is the "serious post" I referenced in my 2020 Emmy's recap. This post is all about my journey with addiction and getting sober. I have never posted anything like this before, so please bear with me as I try to get through a serious topic rather than just bashing celebrities and undeserving award recipients.

The bulk of this post is an email I sent to my loved ones on September 9th, the day I got out of rehab. There will be some additions because it's been almost a month since that email was written.

DISCLAIMER: if you thought my other posts were long-winded and slightly unbearable in length...strap in, my friend.

I will be editing some of the original email, but the gist of it will remain the same. Everything in italics is from the original. Everything in bold is new.

Here it goes:

Hello Lovers & Friends!

Sorry to make this seem so awkwardly formal, but this is a lot easier for me than texting all of you individually or in a weird group message.

Also, apologies in advance if this email is a little all over the place—it's more stream-of-consciousness than anything. (P.S. this is gonna be pretty long-winded and probably grammatrically incorrect so prepare yourselves)

It's the incorrect spelling of "grammatically" for me.

It's difficult to know where to start, but I guess, first and foremost, I am an alcoholic.

Some of you have known me for longer than others, but no matter the amount of time we've been in each other's lives, one thing has always remained true, and that's that I love to drink.

You all know that I am obnoxiously loud, outgoing, and always down for a good time. I am happy to report that none of that has changed, I'm still the same loud-mouthed, overly-opinionated Miranda that I've always been—the only difference is that I am now choosing to be loud-mouthed and overly-opinionated while maintaining a life of sobriety.

I got drunk for the first time when I was 12-years-old. I don't remember exactly what the catalyst was for that; all I know is that I took a couple of shots of bourbon, some sips of Blue Moon, and some pre-spiked margarita mix, and that was that.

After that first time, I didn't drink again until I was a freshman in high school. Again, I don't remember the nature of that—all I know is that from then, at a mere 14, to now, 22, I haven't stopped. And more importantly, I didn't want to stop.

MOST importantly, I couldn’t stop.

I continued drinking and experimenting with different drugs throughout high school, in fact, I know I was with at least a few of you the first time you guys got drunk. At that point, it was just something fun that we did on the weekends. I didn't need it to feel normal. I didn't think about alcohol on a daily basis. It served as a fun escape. I could get drunk Friday night and be totally tuned in and present on Saturday morning. That all changed when I got to college.

For those of you reading this that went to Miami with me, and even those of you who didn't, you know that there is quite literally nothing to do in the middle of bum-fuck Ohio except drink. I adapted to the Miami lifestyle incredibly quickly and never looked back.

It didn't feel weird or wrong for me to be getting drunk on a Tuesday night in my dorm—mostly because damn near everyone else was doing it, and goddammit I was finally in college! That's what college kids do! It's fine to show up hungover to class, it's fine to go to the bars every day of the week. I told myself that that was all fine. And for most people, it is fine. It's taken me a little over 4 years to come to terms with this, but for me, it wasn't fine.

Throughout my freshman and sophomore years, I continued to drink heavily. At this point, I was still partaking in social drinking—meaning I wasn't drinking alone or to drown out my demons. I did it because it was fun. It was college.

Starting my junior year, I felt something inside me that was hard to ignore. My ongoing brawl with depression and anxiety was starting to get the best of me, and instead of leaning into therapy or establishing any line of communication, I turned to alcohol—something that (at the time) had been a significant part of my life for seven years.

That first semester of my junior year was, at that point, the lowest of my life. I think all of you know by now that I ended up coming home for a month at the beginning of November to pursue more intensive therapy and consult with my GP about getting prescribed an anti-depressant. By the end of the Fall semester junior year, I was medicated and going to therapy regularly. I thought I was out of the woods. Despite all the help I was receiving for my depression, my drinking worsened.

Junior year was really a tipping point for me in terms of my addiction in that I no longer needed a social setting to drink. I didn't need a reason, I didn't need a drinking buddy, I just needed it. Under the guise of being a college student, I saw no problem with this and therefore didn't feel the need to speak to anyone about it. I sunk deeper and deeper into my alcohol-soaked hole.
Senior year rolled around and I was determined to make the most of it. I was on medication for my depression and had convinced myself, and most of the people around me, that that was my only psychological problem.

SPOILER ALERT: it wasn't.

Brendan and I broke up around mid-September of my senior year, and in an attempt to convince myself, my friends, and anyone that was paying the slightest bit of attention that I was okay, I made going out and aggressively consuming alcohol my top priority.

Around that same time, I started having what I would later learn were anxiety attacks. To address this problem, I was prescribed an anti-anxiety medication on top of my anti-depressant.

I was drinking to the point of blacking out more nights than not. Whether I was drinking with my friends/roommates had become irrelevant. I couldn't be sober for longer than a couple hours without feeling like my world was crashing down. I needed alcohol to feel even a semblance of normalcy.

Around October, my anxiety, depression, and alcoholism had gotten so bad that I was no longer attending classes. I only left my room if my roommates and I were going to a bar or playing drinking games. I was staying up until 7-8am and drinking 12-packs of White Claw (in their entirety) alone in my room. I would then sleep all day until my roommates came home from their classes, therefore giving me an excuse to go to the living room and drink with them. After they all went to sleep, I would do the same routine all over again. This continued until the end of the Fall semester of my senior year.

By then I had become a master manipulator and received my official PhD in gaslighting. My parents shared their concerns with me and I always had a way to spin it so that they believed alcohol wasn't a problem. To say I was my own worst enemy would be a massive understatement.

The only thing that mattered to me was acquiring and consuming alcohol. My addiction was actively worsening my closest relationships. I didn't care. If anyone tried to get in the way of me and another drink I had no problem biting their head off, in fact, I enjoyed it. I thrived in the toxic environment I created.

To make a long story short (although there is literally nothing short about this email) I ended up being pulled out of school for my final semester of senior year. I was weaned off the anti-anxiety medication, as my doctors believed that that was the reason for my depressive spiral. I imagine it had more to do with the fact that I was consuming excessive amounts of a depressant on a daily basis.

As a result of my manipulation, my addiction went unchecked.

When Ms. Coronavirus came to town, I made the decision to quarantine in Ohio with my friends from mid-March to the end of May. I drank every single day during those months.

I skipped over basically the entire summer, but really all I did was drink. I didn't have a job. I waged a war against my mother for reasons specifically linked to my alcoholism. I was having the time of my life pretending that my responsibilities didn't exist while being a toxic leech to pretty much everyone around me.

Fastforward to the entire point of this email: the past week-ish.

Late Tuesday night (9/1) I started drinking and didn't stop until early Thursday morning (9/3). I was completely blacked out, so I don't remember the details, but the gist of it is that I finally admitted to my parents that I needed help and asked them to admit me into rehab. They agreed, and by Friday morning I was a patient at CeDAR treatment center.

I detoxed there until about 1pm today when my insurance bummed out and wouldn't let me continue with in-patient care. I will continue my recovery with the outpatient program.

Part of my recovery and the key to living a sober life is to throw pride to the wind and surrender myself to the truth. That being said, if any of you have any sort of questions or want to talk through anything I did or didn't cover in this email, PLEASE don't hesitate. I am not embarrassed nor shameful anymore.

If you made it to the end of this email then you deserve some sort of prize. Maybe pour out a lime white claw for me :)

I love you guys with my whole heart, addiction and all.

Alrighty, so that's the end of the email.

As I said at the beginning of this post, it's been almost a month since that was written—a lot has happened since then. I decided that now was the right time to make this post because today (October 3rd) marks 30 days of sobriety for me.

My life is so big now. I thought that getting sober would close the door to so much that life has to offer. It is the exact opposite. I am worth so much more than the life I was presenting myself. I am worth my sobriety, and I never have to drink again, even if I want to.

From the bottom of my heart, I can't thank you enough for reading this. I am so happy to be able to share my story with you as it currently exists. Fear not! I will still be posting my aggressive critiques of all-things-entertainment. As I stated, in the email, I'm still loud, judgmental, and obnoxious even in recovery.

In closing,

I am so excited to reintroduce myself to you all and let you get to know me as my sober self.

Hi, I'm Miranda