Drinking can be an enjoyable experience. You loosen up around friends. You unwind after a long day of work. You enjoy a “cold one” on a sweltering hot day. You enjoy some “liquid courage” to help you do something you feel you can’t do. You sip a drink to help calm your nerves, and you can take a shot to help you fall asleep.
There are many reasons people drink, but the scary part is losing sight of when and how is too much.
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There was a period of my life I seemed to enjoy at least two drinks daily. My freezer was stocked with at least a tequila and vodka bottle. 12-packs meant I was low on cash because I preferred 24s, or 30s. I had downloaded apps to help me make all kinds of cocktails and drinks. I stocked at least three juice bottles in the fridge to use as mixers.
It didn’t even matter the time of day. Sometimes I’d start drinking at 1am. Then there were the early mornings where a beer was used to wash down my 8am breakfast. My housemates watched in confuzzled awe at how nonchalantly I consumed alcohol. If a Mimosa was an acceptable morning drink, why not a Screwdriver? Why is a Bloody Mary a good lunch beverage but not an AMF? Who decides these things? These were the pressing questions I asked myself.
The real issue was that once I started, it seemed I just had to have more. It didn’t matter if it was a 12 or 24, I could easily finish them off alone in a day. Liquor? Once I couldn’t stomach anymore shots, I busted out my trusty mixology app to find creative ways to mix the remaining spirits. There was no end. I felt an insatiable thirst that only seven beers filled, or half a bottle of rum.
I never really asked myself why I drank. I just rationalized that I liked it, I was responsible enough to consume it, and I wasn’t hurting anyone else. Depression was the culprit, but I was too scared to admit it. A combination of being homesick paired with a hot-and-cold relationship allowed me to fall into a deep and well-hidden depression. I drank a lot when my friends were around, but I found myself drinking even more when I was alone.
It was as if I couldn’t bear dealing with myself sober. I bothered myself and the only way to be okay was to be drunk.
That was a very cloudy time in my life, and I was able to get out of it only until I admitted why I was drinking so much, and coming to terms with the fact that drinking wasn’t doing anything to solve my issues. I was looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle and only postponed the healing process.
I like drinking. I enjoy the taste of a well-prepared Michelada on a hot day. I love the frothiness of an Irish Car Bomb. I love the tart of Screwdriver. I enjoy these drinks, but now with much more respect. Before I drank to mask pain. Now I drink because I want to without the necessity of having to down seven others right after. There’s nothing wrong with having a drink and enjoying yourself. Just be clear on why you’re having that drink. Cheers!
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