Brought to her knees by her addiction to drugs and alcohol, the writer Lilian Pizzichini turned to Christianity for salvation
by Lilian Pizzichini
On the morning of 13 December 2008 I woke up to my first day of recovery from drugs and alcohol. I say “woke up”, but it was more a case of “coming around”. When I came round, then, my first thought was of what had taken place the night before.
I had been assaulted after an evening spent chasing drink, drugs and dangerous men in sordid places. The previous 12 months had seen me descending into the chaos of addiction after a lifetime of trying to control and manage my drink- and drug-intake.
In this last year I kept having strange, out-of-body experiences that made me shiver. At one point I was walking past a graveyard on my way to the pub, when I suddenly had the feeling that I could not take another step. It was as though I were walking into the face of a blizzard. There was a force inside me that desperately wanted me to stop. But I couldn’t.
A year or so later I discovered that my great-grandmother was buried in that graveyard. By then I was seeing myself in the faces of street drinkers. I had always been a heavy drinker and occasional drug user. I had been a Soho poseur and done the members’ club scene.
But that wasn’t enough for me. I had to get into the gutter so that my denial could be torn away from me. I had to choke on my pride. Looking back, it seems as though I was being prepared for a glimpse of something divine.
SOURCE: The Telegraph