I just finished reading "Drink" by Ann Dowsett Johnston. I am 47 years old. Within me I know I am disorganised, and in a mess but on the outside, I try to appear composed and cheerful.
This book made me realize that I'm not alone in this world, at all. For almost forever this book keeps me companion, comforted, and help me to face my problems with alcohol. My abuse of liquor was not just "hereditary inclination" or me having no self control.....my utilization of liquor to comfort and maintain me originates from many issues throughout my life. Growing up was difficult - my father was a serial cheater, my mother had no self pride and overweight, unpopular me was left to feed for myself on most occasions. Emotionally, I was totally independent.
It was really odd that I never drank when I was in high school However, I went to university at a reputable institution which takes pride in its academic excellence....while students prided themselves on their ability to party. And so started my way into binge drinking and consequent bad character - beginning from black outs, to dreadful hangovers to unfitting sexual practices.
I came to understand that the only way for a corpulent young woman to have a sexual relation was to be intoxicated the same way as the boys.
I woke up one day, unclad sharing a bed with some guy in a frat house in Montreal..... I remember and it is indeed a miracle I didn't get severely wounded, hospitalised or in a detention cell for arrested drunks or pregnant.
Then life goes on - I dated a nice guy, at the same time registered as a nurse and achieved a masters degree. On weekend we hang out together, occasionally drank wine together, and when I'm not together with him I would buy me a bottle for myself.
Fast forward...marriage, .two conceptions, both during which I totally abstained, and never missed it. But then as life goes on, aging parents, ADHD child, stressed workaholic husband with infuriation problems.....wine on weekends turned into wine Thursday-Sunday.
My better half got snared on a neighbourhood "mix your-own" so we had cases and instances of wine...and soon a daily custom to split one or two.... Covertly, I started blending my own mixed drinks and keeping the glass covered up in my heating cabinet.
Immediately I arrived home - and encounter the household disorder, getting supper, attempting to receive ADHD boy to pay attention on homework while prying the other person off his iPod'.. I can just think about combining that drink'..which I keep filling again till finally I become asleep or faint. In the mornings, what I do first is to go through my I-phone to find out whom I may have accidentally texted while being intoxicated.
Be that as it may, there is more - two years prior I got to be distinctly required in an extremely serious enthusiastic issue with one of my child's companion's fathers. The relationship never got intimate (besides a few hugs and staying very close at sporting venues) but if some of you have read about (or witnessed) an emotional affair, the effect can be just as dramatic and fierce, if not more so then a physical love affair. Every time there was a message from him, I got this rush of feelings. I was very hooked on him, we often had late night chat secretly, even while we were at work, but mostly when it was in the middle of the night, he always kept me companion.
I felt really happy, happier that I had ever been. When the relationship got too serious and getting close we almost crossed the sexual line, then he pulled back. I was emotionally wounded and desolate, so my use of alcohol grew.
Alcohol calmed my frayed nerves.
I am so embarrassed as I think back over my life. The inebriated scenes:
Getting completely pounded last Christmas at a mixed drink party
Intoxicated at my sister's 50th birthday
Fuming messages on my iPhone
Shouting fits before my children
Domestic violence against my husband
A complete screaming battle one night when my son had an ally sleeping over
I am in advising which has been an epiphany.....plus perusing Ann's book and now finding this site and perusing comparable stories. I have a feeling that I am returning home.