I too think that remembering the nightmarish scenarios of the past is essential when debating whether to take a drink. Especially the scenes that followed after I said to myself, "I'll just have 1 or 2," which somehow always seemed to be end up even worse then the times I set out to get drunk. The quote below really stood out to me because I had a similar experience.
Originally Posted by
MattyBoy 
Whenever the first drink calls out to me I 'play the tape', as it were, of my withdrawal experience. I can't truly remember what it felt like mentally or physically but I do remember saying to myself 'this is the worst thing I've ever felt in my entire life' and I sure as hell meant it. I also remember the humiliation of the doctors and nurses in the hospital as they saw me, a young man with the world at his feet, in so much pain, and I watched them as I could tell by their facial expressions that they were trying to work out what it was that got me there in the first place. Was I troubled, abused as a child, unloved? They must have thought these questions but the truth was i didn't know why I went so deep with booze. Maybe a bizarre physical reaction whereby any amount of alcohol would induce anxiety attacks the next day which I would attempt to quash with more booze.
Playing the tape has kept me sober for the last four months and I'm hoping it will continue to do so for many years to come....
I had my 4th and final humiliating detox almost exactly 2 years ago. I'm also young, and remember the faces on the nurses and doctors and my parents. For some it was pity, some clear disgust, some confusion. How could a kid like me, with loving parents and a good education, end up needing a 4 day hospital stay to get off the last bender?
The scariest part of that last binge was not the hospital stay, which was scary enough(detox is no party) but the fact that I didn't set out to get drunk. I was just celebrating moving out of my parents' place by resuming to drink, in moderation of course, now that they weren't cramping my style (I had had 3 detoxes the year before). Within a few weeks I ended up going on a weeklong blackout binge, not showing up to work, ending with me desperately emailing my parents to save me from my urine and puke covered bedroom as I lay paralyzed in bed, slugging down can after can of beer at 8am to try to gain even a hint of calmness in my ravaged, panicked nervous system.
No thanks, just water for me, thanks.