Influence may not be the word I would use to describe the effects of addiction on my life. Strangely, I thought that- by being under the influence- I could ignore the overwhelming pain I felt when addiction broke my family, killed my brother, and ruined my mother's life, but I soon learned that I was not immune to the disease either. Then alcoholism almost killed me. The effects of addiction on my life were catastrophic. I thought I had a happy childhood, but I had no idea my father, a well-known physician, had been in and out of recovery from an opioid addiction since before I was born. My mom finally left after his fourth(?) strike with the hospital. He lost his license to practice medicine in Virginia, went to treatment, then moved to Tennessee where they took a chance on him. He relapsed a few times and was forced to retire in Tennessee, where he still resides today- in recovery. Learning about my dad's addiction when I was fourteen was shocking, but learning that my older brother was hanging out with the wrong crowd was no news to me. I was a perfectionist in high school with a 4.11 GPA. I was a competitive swimmer competing at meets with future Olympians. I was a member of our school's award-winning Show Choir, being chosen for regional choirs as well. I remember believing that I was never going to try a cigarette or drink alcohol. I had aspirations then, but those aspirations changed several times as years went on and addiction insisted on sticking around. After graduating high school I earned a scholarship to George Mason University, where I was a member of the Honors Program and made Dean's List my freshman year. Just a few days before my sophomore year was supposed to begin my mother stopped by my apartment on her way home from a trip to Maine, and I instantly knew something was wrong when I came to the door. She asked to speak to my little brother and I on the balcony, and once we were there all she said was, "Alex is dead". My older brother, Alex, was 22. He had been in recovery from a heroin addiction for almost two years. He had earned his GED, had taken his SATs, and had already completed his first semester as a pre-med student at Virginia Commonwealth University. In the very early morning hours of August 27, 2005 he relapsed; it cost him his life. I almost let it cost me mine. The drinking didn't begin immediately, but once I was able to get it easily after turning 21, I had already turned that corner. By the age of 22 I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms that were not comparable to a normal hangover. That year I went to my mom and told her I knew I had a problem, because every morning I would shake, and I would need alcohol to make it stop. Thus began years of detoxes, short stints of inpatient and outpatient treatments, a DUI resulting in jail time, homelessness, and so many "white chips" I couldn't keep count. All the time I was drinking I was wanting to get sober, and I tried, and I failed, and I tried again. I will have been sober for seven years as of March 7th of this year (2024). I earned my Associate's and Bachelor's degrees, had a baby, and now I am in graduate school for social work. My goal is to get others the help I needed and couldn't get. There is hope.