My descent into the jaws of da booze: I am not sure how it started. Was the first thing the glass of diluted wine I was given as a child or the mixture beer and coke at a neighborhood party as a young teenager? In any case I grew up in a culture where alcohol was everywhere and its use was normal and encouraged.
When I left home for college I drank the occasional beer but was not yet much of a drinker, I still remember the room spinning after imbibing a strong beer during my freshman year. However, during my junior and senior year, the beer drinking became already engrained in my social life. We went out to the student bar every night and drank beer until the morning, sleeping it off all day and then restarting the circle. Every single day of the week, without fail. Did we all drink as much? It seemed that way but what would I know, I barely remember most of these drunken nights out. I managed to get home mostly safe and sound and no more was said about it. Certainly no one ever pointed a finger and commented on the drinking behavior, it was the norm during those student years.
On Friday night, when in Belgium we all go home to have laundry done by mommy, I drank whisky with my dad. WTF, why did my dad think it was a good plan to ply a 18+ old with loads of whisky? And we did drink at least half a bottle between the two of us. My mom would get out of bed to complain, but we did not listen. So Saturdays were hangover days, listless days but I could claim I was tired from all the studying and lounge about.
I then went to graduate school in the US, at Lehigh University, a well known school, not only for its academics, but also for its strong Greek culture (aka fraternities for those not of the USA) and its drinking and drugs culture. There I really developed a taste for alcohol and its effects. We partied hard, we went out every night, even to dangerous locales. I definitely got into alcohol related trouble (rather unwanted sex with both a virtual stranger and a housemate, too far gone to fully consent, not really considered rape as such at the heady 80s either, or… if one of the parties is only half conscious that IS rape, male readers, it really is. ).
Everybody seemed to drink and or do drugs, not only my students, but also my peers and my professors. It was so common and it was freely available, over the age of 21. And with fake ID cards, to everyone else on campus as well. At parties with other faculty, drinking heavily was the norm for at least half of the professors and most of the assistants, apart from those people who already had joined the AA. Professors would keep booze in their offices, to have a slug in between classes. It literally was everywhere. I had a friend who kept special water in her fridge, aka vodka. I did not realize at the time she and her boyfriend were full blown functioning alcoholics with PhDs in the picture, but they truly were. She drank a whole bottle of special water each day, supplemented by beer, wine and whatever.
After finishing my MA degree, I went back home to my then boyfriend and tried to be “normal” in my drinking patterns but it was too late, the tone was set.
Relationship floundered and finally went dead, and I moved to South Africa for a year where I discovered wine, and lots of it. Again, I managed to mostly surround myself with friends who drank. And the secret drinking began, alone in my room. I guess at this point I realized for the first time my drinking behavior was NOT normal.
After a year I came back home, ready for more parties, going out until the sun came up and then heading off to work, with a heavy head, hungover but functioning in my job.
This pattern kept going on until I was about forty when a routine blood exam showed a fatty liver and I got my first warning from my doctor. However, that only slowed me down in the month before my yearly physical. I quickly discovered that livers heal themselves quite nicely if you only abstain for about a month or so before blood was taken. I kept this pattern until my dad died, five years ago. In that time I had bloated up to about 100 kilograms, I ate extremely unhealthy, was a total couch potato and drank up to two bottles of wine a day. Still, I could function in my job so no problems for me, hey?
Second warning from my doctors and first depression due to the death of a parent. I decided I better start taking care of myself and I went on towards a much healthier lifestyle, with lots of vegetables, fresh fruit, smoothies and I discovered that running was not the hell it was in secondary school. I lost the weight, my blood pressure went down, as did my cholesterol and I was now no longer a prime candidate for diabetes type II. But still, I drank two bottles of wine. Every single day. I missed out on concerts, plays, parties because I would be already too far gone to consider going out of the door or could not be bothered. People would be boring, wine was great!
This secret drinking behavior in the five years before I turned fifty really hampered my social life as I was often too hammered to bother going to booked shows, concerts, plays, or go out with friends. I slowly started to realize my drinking had gotten completely, totally out of control.
I decided when I turned 50 that a change was necessary. This did not come into one big happy “leave it all behind” step but until now in leaps and bounds, falling down, getting back up. Make no mistake, it is a struggle and to do it without any “formal” form of support such as the AA, or professional care from a psychologist or psychiatrist is hard. I tried all of that, I even tried hypnotism, and it all worked for a little bit. But never did it take hold of the ME in there. Of my brain, of my soul, of my essence. Don’t know how to call it, but it did not take. I would have no alcohol in the house, and then have to run out to get some as soon as the craving time arrived, usually around 4-5 PM. Then I would polish off my two bottles and hit the sack. Repeat next day, and next day…
The biggest change came since 2016 when I ended up so wasted when I came home from visiting my mom (had about two bottles of wine there plus a quart of whisky on the train home) that I literally fell flat on my face at the train station in my town. I do not remember much of the rest of that evening, some very friendly people drove me home, I found myself in bed with a concussion and a broken nose. Checked into the ER the next day only because of shame and because I knew the alcohol levels would at least not be sky high anymore. I did my first forty days AF after that.
This year I had two binge periods, one in the middle of January when I detoxed at home and I got so scared and really thought I was gonna die (heart racing, sweating, nausea, the works) and my last one (I hope, I wish, I would pray but I am not religious) in April when I home detoxed again but prepared with the right drugs at least so it was bad, but not too bad. April 17th I started my 100 days challenge and no matter how hard or difficult it has been , and make no mistake, there have been difficult times and times where I almost, almost caved, I am now AF for almost four months and I feel happier, healthier and much, much better. Something inside me has shifted, I am very much aware of the risks I will be taking if I drink again, not only physically but mentally and spiritually. I will kill myself if I go back. And yet, I cannot definitely say (can any addict?) that it will never happen.
I never hit the final rock bottom. I never lost my job or my home or my family. But my own rock bottom was scary enough to hopefully have put me on the right path and keep me on it.
Awareness is good, improved mental health and vigilance is good. Support, in any shape, way or form is very good. But in the end, the road is mine and mine alone to walk. The change has to become engrained into me, become imprinted into me.
Sorry for the long post.
yoga), not only for the exercise but also to have something positive to do during the evenings, instead of hanging around the house, drinking wine and basically not doing much of anything.
SoberCat 