By no means is that a badge of honor, it’s just that everything clicked into place the day I accepted that fact. My life changed and for the better. The non-stop battle of when to pick up, when to put down, how much to drink, what to drink, what you thought of my drinking and what I thought of my drinking somehow disappeared the day I did. Shame, embarrassment, constant danger, the holes in my bank accounts and countless other problems faded shortly thereafter.
I’m glad I’m an alcoholic because it’s no longer a struggle. The last month of my drinking was a lot of debating. A lot of poor attempts at convincing myself otherwise. There were lists made, cases for and against but ultimately I found myself leaning towards the “no i’m not — this is just me having a good time” verdict. Until I had to admit that my idea of a “good time” was actually a fucking nightmare. Waking up or coming to from blackouts in all sorts of places with no recollection of how you got there isn’t a good time. Watching some girl have sex with strange men just because she felt like she had to was not a good time. Leaving friends sick with worry because they had no idea where I was or what I was doing but hoping for the best was not a good time. Receiving holiday messages and discount offers from drug dealers (plural, meaning not just one guy, multiple guys) was definitely not a good time.
The alternative of course is that since I know I’m an alcoholic, I no longer have to fight it. There’s so much other shit to battle with in life. What to do with your life, how to live your life, even where to live while you’re living (or figuring out how to live) your life, but because I get to skip the part where i’m dealing with hangovers, mending relationships and cleaning up my many messes, I get to figure that stuff out. I get a chance to anyway.
One thing did come out of my drinking. STORIES. I have so many stories — waking up in train stations, coming to in different states, sleeping with dreadful people, that time I gave a professional football player a boner, that time I broke my ankle and didn’t go to the hospital straight away, that time I gave a guy a handjob on a dancefloor in front of half my rugby team, that time I drank too many four lokos, the time I slept with a guy with a glass eye…you get the idea.
It’s my hope that I’ll share some of these stories in the coming days and weeks because I’d like to tell my story-the danger, insanity, the unmanageability of it all. Maybe it will help someone avoid some of the trappings I fell into. Maybe not.