Ella shares her rock bottom moment so courageously ...

>> Image & words lovingly submitted, curated and shared via SITC with Ella's full permission. Content warning: discussions around alcohol addiction, suicide, and difficult conversations.

''Hi, I’m Ella, I’m 30 and I live in rural Western Australia and I am an Alcoholic.

These are some of the toughest words I've ever had to say and to write.

I identified at age 25 that my drinking was a bit much, but I thought, ''it's nothing to worry about.” I put it down to the done thing - at every event, gathering, social outing. I played sports, I volunteered, I held down a job and had fun with my mates.

Never did I think my drinking was out of control.

Then, at age 27, I hit what I acknowledge as my rock bottom.

It was a Sunday. I found myself in hospital, dressed in John Deere green hospital-issue pyjamas, facing the fact that I had attempted suicide via overdose after a big night out drinking.

It was a day I will never forget until my natural end.

I had started the Saturday like any other; raring to go and full of promise of the ''beach and bevy’s'' with mates and not-so-sober times. I remember feeling bliss and contentment as I necked another beer.

For years my drinking had been excessive. I could drink most blokes under the table (a badge I once wore with honour). I remember that day I moved to my grog of choice - rum - and as the evening took hold, suddenly thoughts of loss, loneliness and darkness entered my mind ... as they had done so many times before… but instead of calling it a night and sleeping it off, I pushed through, skulled another can, and kept drinking.

I remember getting a lift home with my mate. I sat in the passenger seat dribbling absolute nonsense until we arrived at my front door. I was drunk, depressed and alone. The thoughts that ran through my mind were relentless, and the alcohol blood content certainly wasn’t helping.

And so, I took some pills .... and that was that….. until I woke up.

I came to in hospital - and it felt like I would never stop crying. Here I was 27, still alive, overdosed, hungover as hell, but alive.

I saw the on-call psych who put it down to me being drunk and I was released into the world minus check-ins or follow ups - faced with the embarrassment / humiliation of what I had done with no real road map of what to do next or how to fix it.

Unbeknown to me, in my drunk/drugged state, I'd called a friend that night to ask her to get someone to check on my Jack Russel, Mo (pictured). She knew something wasn’t right and alerted the same friend who’d dropped me off - and he'd come back around to find me, overdosed. It was him who called the ambulance.

I have my four-legged mate Mo - who I sadly lost in 2020 - and those two mates to thank for getting me to safety.

That same friend called my Mum who dropped tools and drove eight hours (she’d do this for any of us five kids) to get me to the GP and sit with me so I wasn’t alone. She never judged. It was just unconditional support.

It’s only now that I see my drinking was contributing to my depression, a cycle I really struggled with all along.

Since then, I've battled with alcohol on and off, and after feeling judgement and shame from the small town I lived in - not to mention the crippling social isolation of not being able to have a beer with my mates without personal resentment - I decided to move.

My partner (my number one fan) and I hoped that a new start would help my recovery.

While I still feel lonely at times, it’s so much easier than being intoxicated, hungover and depressed - and stuck in the same vicious cycle.

Today I view my addiction like I would a broken bone; and - just as a bone needs assistance to heal properly, I know that I need time to heal- and there is no time frame. I have come to terms with this, and am proud of my achievements.

My path is not straight, and that’s ok. I just have to keep pushing, this battle doesn’t stop just because I put down the bottle.

I hold the hope that as more of us choose to say no to alcohol or limit their alcohol intake - and organisations like SITC do this essential work and ensure mates know it’s #OK2SAYNO - that the stigma around not drinking changes?

Gosh I hope it happens in our lifetime.

I am now 30.

Thank you, SITC, for being the voice for us country kids.

Thanks for making it ok to speak out and up, and thanks for giving me something to hold onto on the days it all feels too hard - it’s ok to say no.

Respect always,

Ella X

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If you're struggling, and this story resonates - please visit our website at soberinthecountry.org and visit our RESOURCES page; where we've listed other organisations that can help, 24-7 helplines, and more. Or you can come join Ella, Shanna (our Founder) and about 500 more of us in the Bush Tribe in our beautiful, online, support crew - where you can be 100% anonymous if you need to be.

It's your choice, always.

We love you Ella,

Here behind you all the way.

Thank you for your courage, your truth, and your light.

Go well, darling girl.