I got sober at 28.

I only drank for 10 years. In that time, I left quite a bit of wreckage in my wake. I ruined friendships. I ruined relationships. I nearly ruined my life. But to see that it was me doing it all was not possible at the time. It was always someone else — I was a victim.

I remember the months leading up to my rockbottom. It began on New Years’ Eve 2011. My boyfriend at the time was in a band, and they were playing a big show at a local bar. I was so excited to be going out of New Years: usually it was spent inside, drinking with my boyfriend and watching movies. But I was a party girl. I needed to be out — I always wanted to be where the party was.

I got my hair done earlier in the day and remember thinking, “I’m just going to have a few beers while I get ready.” This was typical. I usually did this — just casually have a couple of shower beers while getting ready, doing my hair and makeup. What I didn’t count on at the time, and should have, is that I was already at the point where once I started drinking, I couldn’t stop. So, a few shower beers at 4pm led to a case of beer by 7pm when I was leaving to go to the bar. I remember getting there, I remember ordering a drink and hanging out at one of the tables. I remember sneaking out onto the patio to smoke a cigarette. And that’s all I remember.

I remember coming to the next day, and frantically searching for my cellphone. No messages from my boyfriend. No idea how I got home. Nothing.

My relationship ended within the month, despite my best attempts to keep it going. We were together for five years, and I pushed him to the point where he had to breakup with me via instant messenger because I wouldn’t allow him to do it any other way. I begged and pleaded, threatened to kill myself, promised to get help. Nothing.

Roughly a week later, I walked into my first AA meeting and tried to quit drinking. It didn’t take that first time, but within 6 months I hit another bottom after an embarrassing encounter with a coworker. It’s been almost 8 years.

I was able to stop drinking with the help of others who also quit drinking. They taught me how to not drink for one day, and gave me the support and encouragement that I needed. When I walked into the halls, I was a broken, lost, little girl who had no idea what she was doing with her life and how she was going to live without her solution.

But here I learned that booze wasn’t my solution — it was my problem. Throughout the next few years I learned more about what booze did to me and to my life. I learned how to not drink. I learned how to get through some of the toughest times I’ve ever faced without picking up a drink, and that in and of itself is a miracle.

However, I often think about those people who I left in my wake — those who I walked over, stepped on, broke, beat, hurt. Some I’ve been able to find and make amends to. But more often than not, I think about that last ex boyfriend.

He had the courage to leave me, and I’m forever grateful he did that. Without him doing that, I never would have been able to get sober. Without getting sober when I did, I very well could be dead.

I never saw or talked to him again after he broke up with me. He actually went on to marry the girl he dated after me. They have a few kids now. I’m really happy for him. I’m glad I didn’t break him that badly.

Whenever I think about reaching out to him to make amends, I remember that sometimes the best amends that you can make is to leave the other person the hell alone. I don’t know what I did to him really — I can only imagine — but I think this is one case where the best course of action is to just let him be. He doesn’t need an apology from me — and it’s selfish of me to give one just because it will make me feel better.

We’ve both moved on with our lives, but I’ll always be grateful for him.