Alcohol took everything, and I didn't even care
I drank alone. Beer was expensive, so I drank cheap wine. (File photo)
I took my first drink when I was about 15. It was gin I stole from my mother's partner's bottle, and once it hit my stomach and that warmth began to spread through me, I just wanted more.
The night ended with me being carried home by a friend and spewing my dinner in the garden outside the house.
I loved it. I loved the way it made me feel. I loved that it made me forget my shyness and made me feel powerful.
I kept drinking to obscene excess at every chance I got. I remember people saying to me that it was an absolute shocker that I would get so drunk I'd lose control of my mind.
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Even back then, at 17 or 18, I couldn't understand why other people didn't seem to get into the same trouble I did when drinking. Even more, I couldn't understand how people could not want to drink.
A colleague told me it might be time to call the AA. I thought he was joking.
I carried on drinking. I'd noticed I tended to act the fool, so I drank alone. Beer was expensive, so I drank cheap wine.
If you ever find yourself in a supermarket aisle making a quick calculation of what to buy so that you get the most alcohol by volume for your dollar, I have some bad news for you. You might just be an alcoholic, like me.
Things carried on in this vein for a few years. A girlfriend told me that I had a problem, so I stopped drinking on her behalf. Once we broke up, it was back to the races.
In hindsight I can see that any time I stopped drinking for a while, when I picked up again it was worse than before. I met another girl, and I wanted to be sober for her sake. When that went wrong, I felt like I had done the best I could and this was how it turned out, so what was the point in even trying?
And that's when I really started to lose my battle.
At the depths of my addiction, I just wanted to drink to oblivion so I wouldn't have to feel. (File photo)
I drank alone in increasing quantities. My landlady found me passed out in the middle of the day and thought I was on drugs. She wasn't impressed, and I got the impression I needed to get help or find a new place to live.
I phoned AA that night. I went to a meeting the next day and saw a roomful of people I had nothing in common with. They'd all joined some kind of cult and I got out of there, fast.
I think it took about two weeks before I started drinking again.
I spent the next two years drinking as much as I could, as often as I could. I gained weight, fast, going from a reasonably healthy 85kg to 116kg.
I thought I was depressed and tried therapy. I got worse and worse at my job. I was working a job far below my qualifications, and could still only manage to do enough hours a week to pay rent and buy alcohol. I couldn't face the thought of doing the work I had studied for. I could barely face people. I certainly couldn't face myself every morning.
I clearly remember my last drinks. I woke up in bed with the worst hangover I can remember, and saw two half-empty beers on my bedside table. I drank them both.
That was on November 22, 2015, and though it has been the hardest thing I have ever done, I have been sober since November 23, 2015.
I went to an AA meeting, for the first time of my own choice. I said I was in trouble. I could barely get the words out from fighting back tears.
Someone - I still don't know who - put their hand on my shoulder. It was such a human gesture. I had thought people might laugh at me, at this poor fool who couldn't even handle his drink. I've since come to learn that everyone in that room had been where I was that day.
Sobriety has not been easy. There have been days, even in the last month, when I have wished I could have a drink. But I can't go back to where I came from.
I was scared my friends would judge me for giving up. I'm incredibly grateful that, without exception, every one of them has been supportive of my choice.
Addiction is such a lonely disease. It took away everything and everyone I care about. Worse, it made me incapable of caring.
I never wanted to feel anything, I just wanted to drink myself to oblivion so I wouldn't have to feel. By the end, I wished I had never existed, because all I did was hurt the people around me.
Now, two and a half years later, I see how wrong I was.
Sobriety is a new experience for me, and not an easy one, but it’s one worth having.
- Stuff Nation
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