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“My First Blackout!” Brit’s Story

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“My first blackout. You mean this doesn’t happen to everybody?”– I was a freshman in high school and only 14 years old. It was a Friday night and I was at a sleepover with some girls. My parents thought I was safe and sound, watching movies, and giggling with my fellow classmates. One of my friends wanted to leave the sleepover and go hang out with some “super cool” senior boys. How could I pass up a chance like that? They picked us up and took us to a party where we chugged Bacardi-O & orange pop in the truck on the way. I woke up back at the sleepover the next morning. My brain felt like it was throbbing, my tongue felt like it was wearing a fur coat, and I had no idea how I got there. I felt like I had been beamed up by a UFO from that truck and dropped off back at my friend’s house. How could I not remember anything? What the hell happened? It was completely terrifying, but I thought maybe this is what happens when you get really drunk.

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The girls all woke up and started telling me about what had happened the night before. They had a hard time believing I had no recollection of anything, seeing as none of them had blacked out before. I partied, hard. I puked a lot, all over this guy’s parents’ bed and walls. I had to be carried back in to my sleepover, where I passed out on the bathroom floor. At least that is what I was told. That’s the scariest thing about it. I was there. I was walking around and talking to people. I made new friends. I was doing all these things, but I can’t remember anything. I will never get those moments back. It was like I went to sleep and a zombie took over my body. I went to school the following Monday and people came up to me and said how funny I was this weekend, they had so much fun partying with me. I had no idea who some of these people were, I’d never met them, but apparently I had and we we’re now friends. Maybe that zombie walking around when I was wasted wasn’t so bad. Other people seemed to like her, she made me new friends. She seemed like she was funny, the life of the party, until she puked and passed out, of course. It happened a few times during high school, then more frequently, and then almost every time.

courtesy of www.sorryimissedyourparty.comI started to embrace that zombie. It was pretty convenient sometimes. I could blame things on her. It wasn’t me, it was my evil twin. People would tell me things I would do and I would just laugh it off with everyone else. Inside I hated it, I would cringe at the things I did. I made an ass of myself half of the time. I had to tell people let’s just not talk about last night. Sometimes I would just go off the grid for a week and not answer anyone’s phone calls because I was so embarrassed. I would tell myself I was never going to drink again, but I would be back at it the next weekend. I didn’t drink like other people. I wasn’t a social drinker. I never could go out for just one, no matter how many times I tried. I drank to get wasted. Me and some friends had a motto that was “Black out! Or get the f*** out!” and that is exactly what I did almost every time I drank.

I was young and dumb. I thought it was a phase. I thought I would grow out of it. I kept waiting for that day when I would go to dinner with friends, have one glass of wine and then go home. It never came. I always needed more. I would go to the bar, then the bar would close and I’d find other people like me that weren’t ready to go home. We would keep the party going until the normal people we’re awake and getting ready to go to work or school. That kind of life didn’t sound very satisfying to me, but at that point nothing really sounded satisfying to me.

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Fast forward 11 years later, I wasn’t a 14 year old little girl in high school looking to fit in anymore. I was 25 years old, I was dancing on a table at 6 in the morning in the living room of some guys house with a couple of my friends chugging 100 proof cinnamon whiskey. Obviously Fireball wasn’t good enough anymore, I needed something stronger. Next thing I knew, I was in my bed and my brain felt like it was throbbing and my tongue felt like it was wearing a fur coat. I knew how I got there though, I drove. Blacking out and driving became very common for me the last couple months. I had these flashbacks of driving my car and dancing while the music was blaring. The roads were covered with snow and I would go off the road and then get right back on. The possibilities of what could have happened on any of those night are endless, but thankfully none of those horrific possibilities happened. Enough was enough, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was not young and dumb. I was too old for this shit and I needed to grow up. That was my last black out.

It is insane to think that for 11 years, I had to let people put my nights together for me. I wandered around these parties and bars, I did things that I don’t remember doing. I’ve done things I am ashamed of. I have done things that I still don’t even know I have done. Anything could have happened over the last several years, and that breaks my heart. Today, I wake up every morning, and I know exactly what happened the night before. I don’t have to hide out from embarrassment. I don’t have to call people and apologize for being a bitch. I can look people in the eye because I don’t have to wonder if they saw me make an ass of myself the other night. I respect people and I earn their respect in return. I never have to black out again, and that is one of the best feelings in the world.


Guest blog highlight!
Brittney Taylor went from girl gone wild to girl gone sober. She is from Michigan and is pursuing her Communications degree at Saginaw Valley State University. She hopes that by sharing her experience, strength and hope she can help others battling addiction that there is more to life beyond a bottle of booze or whatever their vice may be. Follow her on Twitter @blackoutbrit_

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