Don’t Look for a Way Out- Look for a Way Through

When we try to evade what we’re facing, we often end up confronting it head-on.

Photo by Jim Tran on Unsplash

Trigger warning: This article discusses alcoholism and depression. If you’re struggling with these issues, please know that you’re not alone. Consider reaching out to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional for support.

For all of you who have subscribed and been following my posts, I want to take a moment to express my gratitude. Your support has meant the world to me. Today, I’m excited to share something special—the story of my journey into BEING the person I am today. I’m ready to open up about my experiences and reflections in surviving an alcoholic and what it taught me. Thank you for being part of this journey with me.

Hang with me… it’s a little lengthy. And yes, some tears were rolling down my face. 🙏🏽

We must be willing to encounter darkness and despair when they come up and face them, over and over again if need be, without running away or numbing ourselves in the thousands of ways we conjure up to avoid the unavoidable. ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

When we try to evade what we’re facing, we often end up confronting it head-on. It’s more effective to confront issues directly rather than to avoid them. Trying to hide problems by sweeping them under the carpet might seem sensible, but it’s only a temporary fix. It’s not a solution at all—just an illusion of one. It is not a solution at all but merely masquerading as one.

Alcohol, chasing dreams, disconnection and divorce

I had a fourteen-year marriage that ended in divorce in 2020. The highs were intoxicating, and the lows were suffocating. We chased a dream to Venice, Italy, but reality brought us back home. After Dad passed away in 2015, I needed to help my sister with my mom. But in my marriage, I felt lost, like a part of me was missing.

At this time in my life, I’m able to reflect clearly on my relationship with an alcoholic and the dreams that once united us. We were both ambitious and driven by a shared vision of success in America. He dreamed of starting a business that would change our lives, while I aspired to complete my doctorate program and start my own practice in integrative wellness. Despite our initial synergy, our journey began to unravel.

In 2017, the thrill of becoming entrepreneur filled our days with hope. We spent countless hours discussing our dreams and designing our paths to success. But as time passed, I became increasingly bound to our situation’s reality. At the same time, he became trapped in the haze of alcohol—an escape that transformed into a barrier between us. The dream we once chased together began to feel more like a solitary pursuit for him, while I felt lost, yearning for connection and support.

He was a wonderful person with a remarkable character, yet a shadow emerged whenever he drank. At first, I didn’t know there was a problem. He was a social drinker, but I noticed a change. It was as if I was coexisting with two different versions of him. Often, he will tell me to save myself from him. I loved him. I remember the moments when I’d notice his absence, physically and emotionally. After a doctor’s appointment, he learned that his liver was fatty and on the verge of cirrhosis. I hoped this news would be a wake-up call for him, a moment of clarity that might lead to change. But instead of taking it to heart, he continued to drink as if nothing had happened. The cases of beer were stacked high in the kitchen, as if we were preparing for a party with over a hundred guests. In the midst of it all, the bottle of brandy I had carefully tucked away to preserve my Bach Flower remedies vanished into the night. When I confronted him about it, he simply shrugged and promised he would replace it. But something in his tone made me uneasy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another sign of the chaos creeping into our lives. It felt like he was on a path of self-destruction, ignoring the risks to his health and our relationship. I couldn’t understand how he could disregard the very thing we had built together, as if he was unconsciously choosing to let it all slip away. He was a high-functioning alcoholic during the day and lost in the evenings watching movies full of violence and drinking. The man who held my hand and shared my dreams became a shadow of himself, lost in a bottle. The pain of being adopted haunted him, the loss of his father and a self-righteous mother stuck in her ways. While I pushed forward, dedicating hours to my studies and envisioning my future, he seemed to drift farther away. Stability—a basic human need—felt like a distant luxury I could no longer afford. I clung to hope, convincing myself that his struggles were temporary hurdles. We had committed to a life together—didn’t that mean sticking it out, no matter the cost?

But deep down, my intuition began to whisper truths I was not ready to confront. I wanted to finish my doctorate and build a career that ignited my passions and brought healing to others. I frequently found myself struggling with self-doubt, reminding myself that I can’t help others heal until I begin my healing journey. The energy medicine I studied spoke to me on a profound level, yet I often pushed it aside for the sake of our relationship. My dreams began to dim, overshadowed by the weight of his addiction and the emotional toll it took on me. I found myself overwhelmed, experiencing frequent nervous breakdowns and even mild seizures. My nervous system was a wreck. Each time I looked in the mirror, the reflection seemed distorted, as if the person staring back at me was a stranger. My internal world felt like chaos; fear and darkness haunted more weeks than I cared to count. I was taken by surprise when pre-menopausal symptoms began to surface. The irritability, hot flashes, and unpredictable mood swings felt foreign and unsettling. It was as if my body was undergoing a transformation I hadn’t prepared for. Along with these changes, I noticed my weight shifting, and I gained 27 pounds, which felt like more than just extra weight—it often felt like emotional baggage weighing me down. Each day became a struggle to reconcile the physical changes with the emotional turmoil that accompanied them. I chose not to take the Xanax that had been prescribed, believing that I needed to endure the pain rather than seek an easy way out. I prescribed myself Bach Flower remedies and acupuncture. No one was aware of my darkest moments and the internal struggles I faced. Yet, those few who truly knew me often remarked, “Your light seems to be dimming, Yoli. What’s happening?” I was living in silence and shame.

Denial became my companion as I convinced myself that our bond was meant to last for years to come. I convinced myself this was a temporary phase and that things would eventually improve. Yet, in quieter moments, I felt the truth pushing against that denial—a deep pounding nudge urging me to let go. It was increasingly clear that our paths were diverging, and the love we once shared was transforming into a painful reminder of what was slipping away. I could see the future I wanted stretching before me, radiant and inviting, but it required me to step away from the past.

I was deeply concerned about my well-being and emotional state. I barely recognized myself and felt desperate to escape my living situation. To address these feelings, I sought therapy to work through my struggles. However, during our joint therapy sessions, he consistently blamed me for our issues. It’s easy to point fingers and evade responsibility, but that only obscured the underlying factors that led us to this point. In those moments, it became clear that true healing would require more than just placing blame; it required a willingness to confront the deeper truths we both needed to acknowledge. A close relationship with a toxic person can tear through your life like a hurricane. Two main points: refusing to take responsibility and consistently blaming me was becoming a troubling pattern, and gaslighting¹ me to twist reality to manipulate the narrative of what happened. I wanted so desperately to fix things, to make everything better, but it only seemed to spiral deeper into chaos. Trust had become a fragile thread, and I cried myself to sleep each night, convinced that I must have done something wrong. It felt as if life were punishing me for mistakes I couldn’t even identify as if I was paying a debt I didn’t know existed.

In those challenging moments, I often drove to a nearby park, seeking solace and clarity. Many times, while sitting alone, I would find myself lost in thought, the song “Stay” by Rihanna playing in my mind. There’s a part of the lyrics that struck a chord with me: “Ooh, ooh, ooh, the reason I hold on Ooh, ooh, ooh, cause I need this hole gone. Funny you’re the broken one, but I’m the only one who needed saving. Cause when you never see the light, it’s hard to know which one of us is caving.” Those words felt hauntingly familiar. They mirrored my own feelings of holding on through the chaos, trying to fill the emptiness while realizing that I was the one who needed saving. It often felt like I was losing my grip, caught in the darkness where both of us were struggling to find our way. The weight of it all was heavy, and I wondered if I was the only one truly aware of just how fragile everything had become. Days and weeks passed, I continued to sit alone in contemplation, hoping for some kind of guidance.

Over and over, I heard the word “surrender” echoing in my mind. It’s a reminder that the world around us can change, but it takes a deep commitment to growth and consciousness, alongside a steady trust in the journey. I learned that even when the situation seemed dark, the key was to never give up on the vision of how I wanted my life to be. We must find belief not only in ourselves but also in the divine forces that guide us. The journey may be difficult, but holding onto hope can lead us to the changes we seek.

The decision to move on was agonizing. I struggled, fearing the unknown and what it would mean to leave someone I still deeply cared for. But as I leaned into my intuition and faced the truth head-on, I realized that love sometimes means letting go—even when it is agonizing. I understood that supporting him through his battle with alcohol was not my responsibility and that my dreams were equally deserving of pursuit.

As painful as it was, our journey together was coming to an end. An Alcoholics Anonymous counselor advised me to consider leaving the relationship because my husband was not seeking help. We settle into what feels comfortable, and what does not challenges us to look deep into our wounds, pain and trauma. I realized that he was gradually pulling me down with him and that the toxic traits I had accepted were also present within me. This behavior felt familiar, leading me to reflect on the possibility that it stemmed from intergenerational trauma and patterns passed down through my ancestry. It was a bittersweet liberation, opening the door to reclaim my life and passions. I decided to take that next step, leaving behind the hope of what could have been in exchange for the promise of what could still be. My focus shifted from chasing dreams together to carving my path.

Leaving him was not an act of abandonment but rather self-preservation. The true challenge in my life involved my willingness to confront my fears, trauma, and inner demons and allow my deeply felt dreams and aspirations from my spirit to surface. This was the beginning of my initiation. Initiation required me to release preconceived ideas about the period of distress and enter and accept higher good and divine guidance, placing me under the Universe’s protection and inspiration.

To forgive yourself and others is to free both yourself and them from the grip of anger. It’s about letting go of the hurt and allowing space for healing, understanding that we all make mistakes and deserve compassion.

The lessons learned in that relationship shaped me, offering profound insights into love, resilience, and the importance of staying true to oneself. In 2021, I completed my doctorate, invigorated by the journey and the clarity I gained along the way.

We often find ourselves attracted to partners who remind us of familiar patterns from our past. It’s as if they bring to the surface those hidden traumas we carry, along with the weight of our family’s history. These relationships can feel both comforting and challenging, as they force us to confront the unresolved issues that linger beneath. While they may bring up difficult emotions, they also offer a chance for growth and healing, pushing us to understand ourselves on a deeper level.

YOU HAVE TO BE STRONG ENOUGH TO BE WEAK
Allow yourself to feel whatever you are feeling. Notice any labels you attach to crying or feeling vulnerable. Let go of the labels. Just feel what you are feeling, all the while cultivating moment-to-moment awareness, riding the waves of “up” and “down,” “good” and “bad,” “weak” and “strong,” until you see that they are all inadequate to fully describe your experience. Be with the experience itself. Trust in your deepest strength of all: to be present, to be wakeful. ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Homelessness

After my divorce, during the pandemic, I entered a profound period of introspection—a dark night of the soul. I immersed myself in writing and connecting with the natural world. I would spend hours walking, taking in the beauty around me and observing the intricate details of my environment. These experiences inspired me to write “The Art of Flow,” a book that captures my reflections and insights from those moments. I began to listen to my surroundings, and this act of listening unfolded into a profound connection with nature and my inner self.

Surrendering to the process, I became homeless for one year due to financial struggles, finding myself couch-surfing, sleeping in my car, and leaning on new friends who appeared along my journey to offer support. I spent countless nights feeling lost and unsure of what to do next. Fear weighed heavily on my heart, but I held on to the light of hope, trusting that the journey would lead me somewhere better. In time, things started to shift, and I found a job that not only gave me a sense of direction but also rekindled my sense of purpose and excitement for the future. I did not rely on my family or close friends because they had their struggles. This challenging experience became a catalyst for personal growth, pushing me to rediscover who I am and envision the life I was meant to lead. I learned that embracing life’s uncertainties and trusting the call for growth was essential on this transformative path.

#8 Surrender

The more you hold on to a person, place or thing, the more it will eventually turn on you.
Hold space, let go, and allow the freedom of what does not ask to be held.

From my book: The Art of Flow: 40 Reflections on Being Fully Present

Until you change your thinking, you will always recycle your experiences.

To shed conditioning, one layer at a time, takes courage, as you must trust in a self you do not fully recognize. My journal pages were transformed into channels for divine guidance, with each entry downloaded from Source. Nature emerged as my greatest teacher; every tree I sat beneath unveiled a nectar of stillness and love. It became my sanctuary, offering solace and a deep sense of connection to the world around me.

Nothing remains the same; the hand of God is always available when faith is present in our hearts. This experience was needed because a gentler method would not have freed me. I learned that I had the power to break that cycle—to embrace change, to become whole, and to choose a future with promise and possibility molded by my hand. My dreams are no longer woven into someone else’s struggle; they are mine to chase shamelessly and unapologetically.

Today, I’m in flow and living the life I was meant to live. I’m grateful for the journey and all those souls who assisted me along the way. I can’t express enough my gratitude for the natural world; in its stillness, I found a sense of life and renewal that brought me back to myself.

Deep within us lies wisdom that guides our journey. It is with us always. We instinctively know when something isn’t right for us—when it’s time to let go and move forward or when we should remain steadfast. This internal compass, rooted in divine love, illuminates our path and helps us navigate life’s choices.

Thank you for reading.

May the flow be with you now and always! 🙏🏽

With love,

Yoli

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1. Gaslighting is a form of manipulation and psychological control which the person questions their sanity and perception of reality.