In my mid 30's that was how I felt each time I strung together a few days or weeks, even a few months on occasion.
But always ended up back at it again and then the guilt, shame, remorse eating me up so bad, it didn't matter how much I drank, the old enjoyment never came back.
Nevertheless, I should have but didn't get any help with it, I just battled on, convinced I could do it by myself, too ashamed to get to AA, too embarrassed to talk to anyone and not prepared to pay ten grand or more for rehab.
Then came the resignation, that I'd tried so hard, but couldn't get it and feeling like this was how it was all going to end, I wasn't going to make old bones.
God knows that was one of the darkest moments of my life, but really I hadn't exhausted all avenues at all.
I'd just thrown my will power at it.