LogFAQs > #958842984

I hit two years sober back in June. I'd gone through various levels of drinking, from super heavy binge drinking as often as I could in my late teens to"casual" daily drinking in my early 20s before settling into weekend binge drinking in my mid 20s. I wasn't a daily drinker by the time I quit, so I legitimately did not see that I had a problem. I would even go through the list of characteristics of alcoholism on all kinds of health organization websites and see ten red flags but because I wasn't a daily drinker, I declared myself not to have a problem.

In reality, I was always craving a drink and miserable without, depressed and anxious until I got one. Then I couldn't stop myself with any level of certainty. The few times I successfully moderated made me more comfortable that I could control my drinking which led to me getting more out of control than ever. As I got older, hangovers and the depressive effects of alcohol got worse and taking a few "break months" to not only "cleanse" but to prove to myself I could go without just made it worse because every time I started to get a little clarity and objectivity on the matter, I threw myself back into a drink and reset the whole process.

I white-knuckled for a few months at the end of 2018 and picked up again after that; the last six months I drank were pure fucking hell. I've been through an awful lot in life and managed to get through it but that was the first time I ever felt like I was done. I knew if I kept drinking I wasn't going to last, the emotional chaos drinking caused was that awful. Even one drink would send me into the lowest depths I ever experienced, now starkly contrasted with the fact that I had made a lot of effort to overcome lifelong depression that kept me down. I started drinking to self medicate for everything I've been through but after I worked through all that and felt better, I still had the compulsion to drink and now it was drinking that was causing a vast majority of my suffering. I'd quit for a few weeks then something would come up, a birthday party or a big sports event, any excuse to get drunk and I'd get deeper into the drink than ever, which is really saying something.

The last night I drank, I blew hundreds of dollars I did not have to spend on anything, let alone alcohol and was extremely upset and disappointed with myself. Now, the money was a factor in that but it was a small part of it. I'd done that same thing countless times over the years and never gave a fuck. The difference is that for once, I truly did not want to do that. I was only supposed to go out for my friend's birthday and have a drink or two. However, after that first drink was gone, I knew there was no fucking way I was stopping at two and I started having this whirlwind of emotions. I was disappointed in myself because I knew where it was going and I shouldn't have even tried to have the one. Then I was hyped up because I figured, fuck it, if one drink made me feel bad, might as well go all out. If I'm gonna feel bad anyway, I'll make it worth it. As fun a night as it was, and it was, according to everyone else involved and not just my alcohol soaked brain, it was not worth the fallout.

I woke up the next morning still fairly drunk and gathered the pieces of the night before and once I realized what all had happened, I almost tried to kill myself. I blacked out right before going for it and honestly do not know how I managed to refrain because I'd never been so sure that death was what I wanted and I had everything ready to go. I woke up late in the day and wasn't even sure if that had happened but there was plenty of evidence. I went back to sleep and woke up the next day, trying to figure out what the fuck I was gonna do because I knew in a few days I was going to drink again and the same thing would happen, only I wouldn't survive that one.

Even after all that, I didn't think I was an alcoholic... because I wasn't a daily drinker. I hit up a friend who was in AA and told him I'd like to go to a meeting but immediately started having doubts. I played in my mind that it was just bad luck, just financial problems, just stress, all these things other than the insanely powerful and addictive poison I spent almost 15 years years conditioning myself to need. It wasn't until I got outside help that it really dawned on me that I have a problem, based solely on the fact that I wanted to control my drinking and simply could not even if my life depended on it.

Even now, I occasionally have to type it out like this to remind myself that I do have a problem because my brain still wants to come up with lies and fantasies about it not being that bad, even though it really was.


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