Four Years Without Alcohol. Part 2. “Flourishing”
Part 2. “Flourishing”
Part 2. “Flourishing”
How many times in 21 years have I said “this was the last time”?
I drank for twenty-one years. Simple math. More than half my life. Even now, as I’m 38 and haven’t drunk for 4 years. Every year I drank more frequently. At first, occasionally for random events. Then once a month, then every two months. Then on every holiday. Then every two weeks and on holidays. Then once a week and on holidays. Then twice a week and on holidays. Later, I drank at least three times a week. When traveling, I would start drinking right after breakfast. It was great, being buzzed all day, and then drinking seriously in the evening. To cure the hangover in the morning and return to normal. And in the last year before recovery, I could drink with clients at lunch and return to work, grabbing a bottle to take back to my computer. And it was not just beer…
The Irish have a saying, and they know a thing or two about alcoholism: A man takes a drink, the drink takes a drink, the drink takes the man. In other words, “first you drink alcohol, then alcohol drinks you.” By September 2019, alcohol was consuming me voraciously. Every drinking session for me turned into Russian roulette. Would I have a panic attack with a fear of death the next day, or just a headache? Or maybe I’d get lucky? Pure masochism. For several years. To be exact, for five years I suffered from real hangovers from binge drinking, and I didn’t always have to drink a lot. For 5 years, I felt good in the evenings and nights when I drank, and at least felt bad the next morning and day. And yet, I still had to work, spend time with my family, and engage in some personal development.
Living a full life when you’re sick is next to impossible. But the trick is that you still need to realize that you’re sick. Admit it to yourself. Admit it to those around you. “I drink because I like it.” “I relax.” “It helps me switch off.” “I need it for inspiration.” “It’s good for the circulation.” “It makes it easier to communicate with people.” And so on. I first and foremost sang all this nonsense to myself, assuring myself that everything was fine. Just like everyone else.
But recognizing alcohol as a problem isn’t the end of it. The fact is, alcoholism isn’t quite a disease; it’s a symptom of a much deeper problem. The real disease. Its name is fear. Everyone has their own fear, and it manifests in different ways. But primarily, it’s the fear of taking responsibility.
Alcohol, like any other addiction, especially a severe one, is a place where you can hide. It’s a comfort zone within yourself. Inside all your own crap. Where it’s not that cozy at all to be frank. Though it’s so familiar. Alcohol allows you to sit in this pile and kind of forget that you’re in it. Which, of course, makes life easier, as you don’t have to take responsibility for cleaning up this mess.
By the end of August 2019, I realized that the pile was only growing. That’s when I made my first serious and conscious attempt to quit drinking in my life. I held on until early October. It was a tough time. Difficult orders, difficult clients, difficult contractors. Not just difficult, but tough. Debts, real depression. Going to sleep with anxious thoughts, sleeping anxiously, waking up anxious. I wanted to run away. And I ran.
I would like to say that all those 21 years I was a harmless drunk, the life of the party, a fun fool. Yes, that was also true. And I danced like it was the last time, joked brilliantly, painted, and sculpted while drunk. I sang on occasion and without. Sometimes I literally spoke in rhymes for hours. And those conversations with the opposite sex and their continuation in the most unexpected scenarios…
However, statistically, I was ashamed the next day most of the time. In rare cases, I had to reconstruct the picture of the previous day-evening-night with the help of witnesses.
But there were also moments of increased risk, so to speak. Both for me and for those around me. Especially for those who “posed” a threat. There were times when someone’s health, if not life, hung by a thread, hanging my freedom on it as well.
But above all, I was troubled by the pain I caused to the people close to me. Emotional pain, of course. Although, I admit, sometimes I allowed myself too much towards my friends, which I later regretted. It’s hard living with an alcoholic. Just watching that person suffer is hard enough. And experiencing it together…
You can blame many things for your alcoholism. Difficult circumstances in life in general, tough heredity, genetics, misunderstandings with others, professional difficulties, desperation, the influence of peers, traditions, various kinds of necessity, incomprehensibility, bad company, unrequited love, the death of a loved one, and so on.
All of that is bullshit.
The reason for alcoholism and any other addiction is inside, not outside. Everyone has their own reason, but not everyone is able to recognize, accept, and take action.
The irony is that children start drinking to seem grown-up, thereby emulating adults. Adults drink to escape what makes them grown-up. In reality, neither group truly understands what it means to be really grown-up, but they expect or wait for this from each other, only exacerbating the situation…
End of part two.
