"alcoholic. of, like containing or due to alcohol. - n one addicted to excessive drinking of alcohol. - n alcoholism. alcohol poisoning; condition suffered by an alcoholic".
Hi. I'm 35 years old. I'm kind, intelligent, witty, good company and I will always stand up for my beliefs and other people. I'm also an alcoholic, I'm trying to quit, and I'm writing this to share my experience, both of the booze and my attempt to quit. I'm a week in, and I'll let you know how it's going in the next few days. Hopefully it may help someone. It will certainly help me.
Over the past 17 years booze has cost me, in no particular order;
My Degree
My driving license
My self respect
The respect of family and friends
My marriage
Another 5 year relationship
My health
Career prospects
Around £120 - 150k
It has made me lie to my family and friends, and to myself.
In addition I have caused misery and angst to all those who have loved and cared about me over the years, as they watched me rage on my path of wanton self destruction.
I'd like to point out at this point that I'm not proud of what I've done. All of this is unfortunately true, and I'd change most of it if I could.
Before I go any further I would like to explain why this blog is anonymous. If I name myself, I also name my family, friends and the women I've loved. They've been hurt enough. If you know who I am feel free to contact me, but please respect my wishes and don't cause the people any more pain than I already have.
At 17 I was a clever, skinny kid who hung around with similar people who were happy with the description of 'geek', and 'greeebo', as they had sufficient self belief and self esteem to know they'd do better. I lacked this personal trait. I knew I was clever, I just wanted to be accepted. Then one night I discovered I had a gift.
I COULD DRINK
There was a strange sense of satisfaction seeing a guy at college who had bullied you, in a casual way to pass the time, left puking in a nightclub as he couldn't keep up. Revenge? Maybe a bit. Not so cool on Monday morning are you? After a while volume wasn't enough. It was also about speed. "Two pints, 12 seconds, no hands? Bullshit!!". "Fiver it is then, and you can pay for the pints". I'd get crowds. People were impressed. I was accepted!
By the time I got to Uni this was my new personality. "Crazy man". A chance to hide away from all I'd been before and invent a facade of deception to hide the pain emptiness. By that time, although I didn't realise it, the pattern for the next 17 years was set. I'd burnt out the switch that most people have that tells them to stop. I couldn't go to a pub for two pints. I was there until my wallet was empty, or I was asked to leave. Even nights at clubs were spent getting smashed until 1am, and then trying to find a girl who was as pissed as me.
My new friends thought this was me. If I tried to cut down they would think I was "losing it" or "getting dull". It wasn't a proper night out unless I was drunk I scraped the first year and it took a turn for the worse. Lectures got dropped. I'd stay up with as much cheap booze as I could get my hands on, watching shit on tv until 5, 6, or even 10am and then pass out till evening when I'd go to the pub before doing it all over again. By this stage I was pissing the bed 3 or 4 nights a week. You can tell that your view on the world is twisted when waking up in your own urine is an everyday occurence. Even if I did get a girl, my place was NOT an option.
In the end I dropped out, and returned home in disgrace, but not before I'd spent three years slashing my parents money, the banks money, the credit cards money and whatever cash I could earn up against a wall.
The one thing I never did was drink and drive. It was my only moral. Obviously I'd get straight on it as soon as I was back home, but that was ok. It is a dirty crime. I had no problem fucking up my own life, but I had enough respect not to endanger others.
When I've told people this story in the past I've claimed I'd had my head shaved for charity. Another lie I'm afraid. Actually I pissed myself at a student party and got a buzz cut as punishment. I deserved it.
The incident that started this chain of events happened at a party in the summer of 96, on a rare occassion that I was driving. The hostesses car, and I think stereo/PC got nicked by some pissed and drugged up dick that no one wanted there, but were too scared to chuck out. I was the perfect witness. 2 years down the line I arrived home, 200 miles from Uni with a court case the next day. I met my friend, who was also a witness, and we went to the pub. I drank, he drank. When the pub shut we went back to mine, and made jugs of cocktails from my parents spirit cabinet and drank until it was early. I call them "cocktails", but it was basically booze in a jug.
I picked up my friend at 9.30am, in my mums car. We had been discussing Crown Court the previous night and were both terrified. Can you remember a man you saw once on a dark night two years ago? We bloody couldn't. My mate had been drunk at the time, and I'd been drunk since. The lawyer was going to tear us apart. I was thinking of this when I heard "have you seen that van?". I snapped back to reality, and skidded into the back of a transit parked at the lights on a busy crossroad. Mum's Metro is now two feet shorter than it should have been. No problem. We'd just passed a police station so I ran off to get the boys in blue to help us out. Even at this point it never occured to me that I was in big trouble. I didn't feel drunk. This was how I normally felt. They turned up, breathalised me and BANG - your nicked. A drunk skinhead in a suit saying he has to get to court.
I got to the station and was asked if I wanted a lawyer, which I politely refused. By this time I'd realised that I was guilty as hell, and just chose to take my medicine. The first station test registered big, but "don't worry, they normally go down on blow two". Mine went up. I refused a blood test for the same reason I refused a lawyer. I have some morals. Finally got to court only to be told that I wasn't needed until the morning. That's a kick in the teeth. I got home only to get a call informing me that "Mr Evil Drunk Driving Drug Dealing Bastard" had absconded from court. I'd made a 400 mile round trip to lose my licence and wreck a car. Happy April 1st 1998. In the end they dropped all charges against Mr E.D.D.D.B, so I was a liar as well as being guilty of a crime I had utmost contempt for. I ended up with a year ban. The Magistrates realised I was a muppet who had no idea what he'd done when he stepped into that car. Even the arresting officer wrote a statement in my defence. I didn't drive again for five years.
Next up - How to ruin relationships
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