Hairroin, Really? Addicted to Ignorance Not Style.

Click Here for link to Huffington Post 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-hudson/hairroin-urban-outfitters_b_5538250.html?utm_hp_ref=addiction-recovery

My Dad is Kind of Like a Big Deal.

Since I can remember, my dad has joked about how he always wanted a son just like him, but instead got a daughter. Me. 

As a kid, I wasn't really sure what that meant. My dad was a bit of a rebel. He drove his motorcycle through the halls of Albemarle High School. He stapled a teacher to the bulletin board for sitting my mom on the front row to look up her skirt in 12th grade. He poured kerosene on a bad cut he got  from sneaking out the house and sewed it up with a needle and thread from my grandmothers sewing kit so he wouldn't get in trouble with his dad. He was state champion in wresting two years in a row. He loved to fight, or at least, he seemed to do it a lot. His arrest record is quite impressive...and extensive.

And what all this tells me..my dad don't take no shit from no one. And at the age of 61, this is still true today.

In our small little town, my dad is a legend. No seriously, ask anyone. Everyone has a Roger Hudson story. And most of the time it's about him taking up for the underdog. His methods may not always be the most proper and tactful way to handle situations, but his heart--his heart is always in the right place.

My dad believes in giving people second chances. He's a man of conviction. He has taught me that questioning things in okay--encouraged, actually. And he probably has had some regrets on that one a time or two. 

But what I have realized over the years about being just like my dad...it's not so much in our actions, it's how our head and heart work. My entire childhood, my dad was a workaholic. I'm an alcoholic. Kind of the same thing ...I mean, when it comes to the mental addiction part.  It's always been our escape--a way of dealing or not dealing with life. 

My dad didn't need rehab or a 12 step program to change his way of living like I did, but it didn't come easy for him.  I saw the first change in perspective with my dad about ten years ago when he had a heart attack and then the second change when my brother died. It sucks that it sometimes takes something like a heart attack or death of a child to open your eyes to what's really important in life, but I can relate. 

Now, I am not going to say my dad has become a softy, but he's kind of like a big teddy bear these days. A big hearted, generous, loving, giving, enjoys life, easy-going,  but don't mess with him or anyone he loves or he will still kick your ass teddy bear. 

Oh, and remember last year on Father's Day when I got my dad a building permit for him to build me a swimming pool...

Roger Hudson, you are my very own super hero...and not just because you got me a pool. But, I'm not gonna lie...it doesn't hurt! But you are the most amazing man I know. Love you to heaven and back, Dad! Happy Father's Day! You will always be #1

From Pain to Purpose in 2 Years

I knew it on April 22, 2012, when I answered a phone call from my dad to find out that my younger brother had overdosed and died earlier that day. I knew that life would never be the same.

I didn’t know what that meant or how life was going to change, but I knew it couldn’t—it wouldn’t stay the same.

I remember sitting on my parents back patio one day a few weeks after Will died. It was around 10 am and I was so drunk that the farmland around me was spinning and I was seeing double of everything. I remember thinking—this is my life now. I had accepted that I would be drunk and miserable and didn’t see how it could ever be any different than this.  In my sick head, I thought that Will would understand what I was doing if he could look down and see me. He would get it. I was living in such a sick, alcohol-induced delusion. Clearly, my little brother wouldn’t want this life for me. But nothing to me was clear.

Maybe it was the grief, maybe it was the alcoholism. I’m going to say it was the stellar combination of both. Whatever it was, I didn’t care to know. I knew I was miserable and alcohol allowed me to escape from both. So, that was my solution. A really shitty solution, because it solved nothing. With every bottle I drank and hid in a closet or cabinet, I hated myself a little more.

This went on for 49 days from the day Will died to when I finally accepted help and went to rehab. I was drinking around the clock. I wasn’t sleeping much. If I was talking to God, I was cursing Him. I don’t recall a lot from this time. People often ask me why I finally decided to get help. What was it about June 11, 2012 (my sobriety date) that was different? And to be honest, I don’t really know. I woke up that morning and couldn’t remember much from the night before. The night before was a celebration for what would have been Will’s 30th birthday. I just remember thinking I had no control over alcohol. I had told myself all week that I wasn’t going to drink at this event…most certainly wasn’t going to get drunk. Well, guess what…when you’re an alcoholic, controlled drinking is impossible.

So, I drank. I got drunk. Really drunk. And I blacked out, passed out, and woke up with a hopelessness I had never felt before. I really didn’t care if I died. Many nights during those 49 days, I hoped that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Just let me die, I thought. Will died. Why not me? Why wasn’t it me in the first place? I had been careless and reckless with my life for years. The drinking. The drugs. All the situations I should not have made it out of alive. Or the many ‘almost died’ incidents over the years. Why not me?

That answer, I will never know.

But for someone who hated God when I stepped through the doors of rehab two years ago, I can tell you today that it’s only by God’s grace that I am alive and sober.

For the past two years, I have tried to stop asking myself ‘why not me.’ It seems like anytime I start questioning this, God sends me a little reminder of why I’m still here. You see, today, I know that God has a plan and a purpose for my life. To know and believe that is pretty incredible from where I was just two short years ago, but to see it unfolding is indescribable.

In February of this year, I received a phone call that made me pull off to the side of the road in tears. It was a phone call for help. I receive a lot of calls and text and messages from people reaching out for help, but this was different. It was a phone call from the kid who was facing involuntary manslaughter charges in the death of my brother.

You see, I had been praying for this kid since I started praying in rehab. They said to pray for those who you held the most resentment for. Well, he was at the top of the list.

When I heard his voice on the other end…it was like I was talking to my brother. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation to help him. I knew that I would want someone to extend the same forgiveness and kindness to my brother if the situation was reversed. I knew that if it was my brother who lost a friend to drugs he had given him, it would have destroyed Will, and that could have just as easily been the case.  I had nothing but love and hope in my heart for this kid. And well, to be honest, that shocked the hell out of me.

Dustin ended up going to the same treatment facility I went to. He’s coming up on 4 months sober. He lives on site and is working at rehab facility. He is serious about his recovery. He loves being sober. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice when I talk to him. I was able to make a formal amends with him a couple months ago at a recovery conference we were both attending that freed up space in my head and my heart. We remember each other’s sobriety milestones and support each other through recovery. And today, I am lucky to call him my friend.

Dustin and I at a recovery conference in March.  This was the first time we had seen each other since long before Will's death. 

So, while I will probably never fully understand all the whys and why-nots…I do know that it is God’s will for me to use my pain for a purpose. What a waste if I didn’t. And being able to watch Dustin have the same passion for recovery that I do…well, it’s a domino effect with a really positive impact.

So much of my recovery, my sobriety and my life are intertwined with my brother’s memory and honoring him so he would be proud. I think it definitely helps keep me sober and for that, I am grateful. Maybe it’s the big sister in me, maybe it’s the fact I am stubborn as hell, but I keep fighting this battle with such force because my brother lost his battle. And I think Will would expect nothing less from me.

 Dustin and I at Hope Valley Homecoming...where we both got sober! Dustin is now on staff. 

To My Brother Who Lost His Only Brother

Anytime someone asks me how many siblings I have, my heart sinks a little in preparation for my response. “I have two brothers and one sister.” Sometimes I leave it at that. Sometimes I add…”but my younger brother has passed away.” I still find myself referring to “my brothers” as if in the present. But it’s almost immediate that I have to correct with “brother” and not “brothers,"

The four of us. Boy, girl, boy, girl. That’s how it’s been for most of our lives. So much of our personalities were shaped early on according to our sibling roles. So, when one of your siblings is no longer present…has taken up residency in heaven…things tend to change.

I joke that Will, my younger brother who passed away, left me as the sole middle child. Fitting, I suppose. I lost my little brother. My sister lost her big brother. And my brother, Matt, --he lost his only brother.

It wasn't until probably a year after Will died that I realized this. We were at a family cookout celebrating Matt’s birthday and it dawned on me that while we all lost our brother, Matt lost his only brother.

What does that mean? I don’t really know. I don’t know what that means for Matt. My sister fills certain roles for me that only a sister can. And my brother fills certain roles that only a brother can. Not that it makes mine and Suzanne’s pain any less, but we still have a brother here with us on earth to do all those things that only a brother can. Matthew doesn't, but not once have I ever heard him mention this.

Now, Matthew isn't one to express much emotion. He’s a tough guy. A man’s man, if you will. And so when Will passed away he measured up the big brother role he had always assumed and was there to comfort and support both of his younger sisters. Because I know my older brother…I know he was dying on the inside, but you would never have known it on the outside.

Just a couple months ago after I posted a blog “Letter to my Brother Six Feet Under,” I got an email from Matt. It was an email from Will to Matt in February 2012, before he passed away that April. Matt told me that he had tried to respond every week for the past two years with all the things that he wished he would have responded with before he died.

Along with a lot of heart wrenching details of Will’s life, the email says…”Among all my other prayers and out loud thoughts every night, I know I have said to myself plenty of times, ‘Why can’t I just be like Matt, you seem to have it all.’ I hope I can earn your trust back but I know that will take a lot. I know you just want the best for me and trust me when I say, I want to be the best husband, brother, son, uncle, employee and business partner I can be.”

The email broke my heart. It still breaks my heart. And I can’t imagine how Matt’s heart broke when he read it for the first time and every time after—probably in a new way each time he reads it.

You see, Matt is a poster child for best husband, brother, son, uncle, employee and business partner. He's also an amazing father. He has a good head on his shoulders. He always has. Things seem to come easy for Matt. Life seems to be easy for him.

But you see, the saddest part to this is that the only thing that stood in the way of Will being all those things was alcohol and drugs.

So, as time goes on, we all assume these different roles in our sibling order trying to adjust and makeup for the absence of our brother.

Matt, in my opinion, probably has it the hardest. He’s the only son and the only brother. I don’t think he minds for one second taking it on—I just know it must be really hard for him to not have a brother around.

Suzanne and I are awfully lucky to have one amazing older brother to look up to! Happy Birthday, Bro! Love you to heaven and back. 

Sobriety: My Joyful Second Act

A few years ago during my final descent into alcoholism, I thought it would be a great idea to try online dating. You know... maybe some poor unassuming guy could save me from my life of self-destruction. Maybe that's what I needed. Maybe that's what was missing from my life. Maybe if I had a boyfriend I wouldn't dive head first into a bottle of booze day after day.

Well, we all know that's ridiculous thinking. And honestly, what kind of decent guy would want to be with the train-wreck-of-a-mess I was? Exactly. There wasn't one. But no sir, that didn't stop me from trying.

Guy after guy would send me the initial five questions, and I would answer with the most perfect and eloquent responses. You know, depending on what I thought they wanted to hear. I could tell a lot from scanning over their individual profile of political and religious beliefs and life goals. If they were a devout Christian, I was a devout Christian. If they were spiritual but not religious, I was spiritual but not religious. If they wanted kids, I wanted kids. If they were undecided, I was undecided. I could be anything or anyone you wanted me to be.

My very first college professor told me that we could get anywhere in life by bluffing our way through it. And so that's what I did. I already had some experience, but I was really able to hone the craft during my college years and thereafter. I was good at talking my way into or out of pretty much anything I needed or wanted to. I had already talked my way into the College of Charleston after receiving a rejection letter in the mail. Still not sure how I did that, but I did. So, needless to say, I was good at making people think I was something that in fact I wasn't.

I could talk a big game. It was the follow through where I would most often fall short. I managed to "2.0 and Go" my way through college, but the more I drank, the harder it was to bluff my way through anything.

However, online dating was perfect for bluffing. I could pretend to be someone I wasn't and let the guy get to know me as the person I wanted to be... not the person that I actually was. I would bluff my way through the interview process of online dating and secure a date with a guy who thought he was getting a chance at love with what probably appeared to be his perfect match. But I wasn't. I wasn't a perfect match for anything other than rehab, and that didn't come until years later. These guys would soon figure that out. If not on the first date, then definitely by the second or third. Then, on to the next one.

Trying to be someone you're not is exhausting. But not even knowing who you are or what you stand for is tragic. It's possibly the loneliest feeling in the world. And no guy will ever be able to fill that void. I was searching for that one person that could change my life and make me happy. Little did I know... it wasn't a he... it was a she... and she was looking back at me in the mirror. Problem with that was I hated the person looking back at me.

If I would have just put "I like to drink... a lot," that would have been a pretty accurate representation of me and what I stood for and what I like to do. Nothing else really mattered. Instead, my profile was more a vision board of who I wanted to be. In fact, I created a vision board in rehab of what I wanted out of a life in sobriety. It was my eHarmony profile drawn out on a poster board through magazine clippings and inspirational quotes.

The other side of the vision board was my alcoholism side. The state of my current life when I walked into rehab -- an accurate representation of how life had been for me for several years at that point. Front and center was a tornado with the cut outs of words like lost, shameless, liar, worst nightmare, dark side, alone in the middle of chaos.

So, as you can see... being honest about who I was wasn't going attract many male suitors for me to date. So, I lied. I pretended to be someone that I desperately wanted to be.

It's been almost two years since I created my vision board in rehab and without even remembering a lot of what I had cut out and glued to the poster board... it has all come true today. Front and center is a peaceful sunset with cut outs of words like calm, comfortable, controlled, confidence, a joyful second act.

I keep my vision board in my home office and each time I look at it, I am reminded of the life I have because of my recovery. As long as I stay sober, anything is possible. The images and words I cut out and glued to the poster were all just hopes and dreams. Today, I am living out those hopes and dreams. But, I know how quickly my life can go back to the tornado side if I decide to pick up a drink. So, I keep it on my joyful second act side and flip it over from time to time as a good reminder of how out of control my life was not too long ago.

Looking over the board, I am shocked that I didn't include some tall, dark, handsome man as part of my vision, but I guess even as sick as I was I knew that no one was going to make me happy until I was happy with myself. Today, I am happy. I am content. And, I am confident. Finally, two years later with an inactive account, I am an accurate representation of my eHarmony profile.

I choose recovery each morning when I wake up and by doing so, it gives me a chance at my joyful second act instead of being the tornado that is lost and alone in the middle of the chaos.