el9292

Where to even begin...I am 20 years old, almost 21. I recently have come to the realization that yes, I may have a problem with alcohol. This will probably be lengthy because I am going to start at the beginning - I need to vent to people who have been in my place.

So. High school. I can honestly say I was the typical girl next door - straight A student, popular, many friends, varsity soccer player, yearbook editor, newspaper editor, etc. I was literally a perfect child and I enjoyed it. I wasn't against drinking - I had friends who did, I just chose not to. I always knew I would in college, I just made the choice not to in high school.

Fast forward to my first year of college. I decided to attend a small, private, catholic college and opted to not play soccer, but rather rugby. I was unaware of the drinking culture surrounding such a sport, but I quickly came to understand it. No one forced you to drink, but since everyone else was, why not? The first time I ever drank, I had two beers and was drunk - now I can have about 10 drinks and be functioning well.

Over the course of freshman year, I became more and more immersed in this subculture on the weekends. During the week I still went to all my classes, wrote for the newspaper, went to practices, etc. But I would find myself excited for the weekend to come and the shenanigans that would ensue at our next social. I had little to no incidents that year, only a few pretty drunken nights with little repercussions.

That summer, after returning home, I probably only drank about three times. I didn't really miss it one way or another, more just missed the people I had been around.

Then came sophomore year, when the trouble really began. One night I fell down cement steps, injuring my knee. Later in the year I split my knee open and needed stitches. Incidents like these continued to occur and I floated away from some of my non-rugby friends. I was spending all my time surrounded by people with the same drinking habits as me, going to the bar under age, assuming this was all normal college behavior even though I knew I was fooling myself.

My wakeup call came the last day of classes my sophomore year. I had been fairly controlled all semester because I knew there was too much at stake. I couldn't afford to mess up again. Even at our last rugby party, I was one of the most sober people and simply returned back to my dorm and went to bed that night. I was proud of myself for ending the year on that note.

Then Monday rolled around. I was not planning on going out, but we had 10 seniors graduating from the team and everyone was going to the bar, so I tagged along. I drank a good amount before going, and that's where the night becomes fuzzy. I remember bits and pieces, but what I remember clearly is waking up in a hospital bed, dressed in a hospital gown, with my clearly distressed parents in the room. I had almost no recollection of what happened and was still drunk. I was told that I blew a .34 the night before - which I later realized could almost be deadly.

I was released after blowing a .16 and seeming to be fully functional - that alone showed how high my tolerance had become. Eventually I was told that I had been picked up by the cops and brought to detox, but I wasn't responding enough for them to take me, so I was brought to the local hospital, where they simply allowed me to sleep it off.

In the week since these events, many thoughts and emotions have been a part of my daily routine. My parents have dubbed me a full blown alcoholic, which I can't do because in my mind that is someone who NEEDS to drink to function - I don't. I still am a part of many extracurriculars, I have all As. My issue is that I have one drink, then one more, then one more...and so on. I lack the control button that so many people have.

My parents have opted for jumping to the future, telling me I can no longer play rugby or study abroad in Chile - basically what has kept me going, the people who are my best friends, are being taken away from me. That does not make me want to bounce back, it just depresses me more. I cannot fathom not having the relationships I have with my fellow rugby sisters. They have been everything for the past two years at school. I don't blame them or the culture for this situation - I blame myself.

I've found myself pushing my parents away and instead opting for talking to family friends who have been through the same thing. I don't want to be pushing my family away, but it's almost like I want to protect them from who I have become. I am ashamed of myself, of the way my appearance has shifted in their eyes. I can hardly face myself in a mirror, and I have never in my life felt such repressed anger, such desire to just hit something, someone - something to make me cease to feel so numb. I am seeing a counselor tomorrow for the first time since this ordeal occurred, and I know I will shut down. I don't want to but it is how I am wired. I have too much pride. I don't know how to feel or what to say. I don't want to go to an AA meeting as a 20 year old. I don't want to become an inpatient, as I know that will only make me retreat farther away.

If anyone has been in a similar situation or has advice, please help me. I need it.