Dear Alcohol/My Story Part 1
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Join Date: Jan 2014
Location: Canada
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Dear Alcohol/My Story Part 1
I've been writing out my story/a letter to alcohol these last couple of days, as something to do & keep me busy. Something to remind me what alcohol has done for me - and what it's done to me. I want to finalize this goodbye letter by the end of the weekend, but I felt like posting what I have so far as "part 1" 
Dear Alcohol,
I’m writing you today because – we need to talk. I have a few things to get off of my chest today and I want you to hear them. And honestly, this message has been a long time coming.
First off – wow, what a journey we have had. I won’t ever forget when we first met.
I was a skinny, awkward, shy, 13 year old girl, full of innocence and insecurities. Lately, I had found myself very curious about the adult world. I was feeling insecure, because I was falling “behind the pack” of my grade school peers when it came to new, adult experiences and relationships – I hadn’t had any. I found this bothering me around the clock. I was afraid of being left behind, during that uncomfortable teenage stage where we have one foot planted firmly in the comforts of childhood, and the other food dangling in the beginnings of adulthood. I had just moved to a new city with my family, and I didn’t have many friends. The friends that I did have did not seem to be interested in growing up too fast or trying new things. But there was something inside of me – this burning desire – growing stronger each and every day. I wanted to push the boundaries and I wanted to have new experiences and I desperately did not want to be left behind. I was bored of being shy, awkward, 13 year old me… the one who got straight A's, played the piano, and didn’t have many friends. I was point blank sick of it. I wanted something – needed something – bigger. Something to take my life in a new direction, full of challenge and excitement and danger and growth. But I had no idea what that something was.
One cold October day, I met up with a girl friend of mine to hang out. This friend knew some older boys, and with my insistence, we called them up to get together. I remember being nervous – still inexperienced with guys and all.
So this is where I met you alcohol, in the form of a bottle of Bacardi 151. I remember sipping slowly out of the bottle – the fiery burn as it oozed down my throat – gagging and gasping and catching my breath and doing it again. I remember how the guys were so impressed – they’d never seen a girl drink like that before they said. It was the first time I think I’d impressed a group of guys like that. We walked, more like stumbled around in the woods, we sipped more Bacardi. I yelled and screamed and laughed and they laughed and I wasn’t shy to make out with the guy I liked and it was awesome. It was like I had finally woken up, from a long, sad, pathetic dream. And thank god I woke up.
I don’t remember much of the evening after that. I woke up in my friends bed, my pants soaked in urine, my hair covered in vomit, and my parents screaming at me through the phone. I had to walk home, sick as a dog, from my friend’s house across town, and I was grounded for I don’t know how long.
What I remember from that first hangover is the intense fear of facing my parents, matched by the anxious excitement of knowing I had found the answer to my problems. You were the answer – you were the fix I was looking for. You were the key to adulthood – the solution to my insecurities and my awkward teenage years. You made me BETTER. I could be care free and fearless, I could be grown up and fun, I could be exciting – I could be everything that I was not before I met you.
It was if a light switch had been flipped – I was in love. My entire world revolved around you from that day forward.
Sometimes, it was difficult to be together during that first year. Parents were constantly interfering, I wasn’t legally “of age”, my income was limited. But I found solutions to all of those problems, slowly but surely. I would lie to my parents at first, tell them I was going to do “this or that” when I was actually going to spend time with you. Eventually they caught on and would try to “ground” me, so I would sneak out in the middle of the night to be with you, and eventually would start disappearing for days, sometimes weeks at a time. I didn’t have a cell phone back then, and I know my parents were worried and searching for me. I felt bad about it, but only when I was sober. Once I was intoxicated nothing else seemed to matter. Again, I was exactly who I wanted to be, carefree and happy. I managed to create a fake ID using a silver gel pen, a thumb tack, and some white out. It was a pretty bad fake ID – I will admit. But I got to know the clerk in town who didn’t check closely, and it did the job. As for the financial situation, being only 15 years old I secured my first job, as a cashier for a local grocer. I was having serious problems at school (getting in trouble, grades slipping, falling in with the “wrong crowd”) and so it surprisingly did not take much effort to convince my parents to withdraw me from the public school situation and allow me to start a “correspondence” program, finishing my courses at home, on my own. This also allowed me to take on more shifts at the grocery store. I was 15 years old and working almost full-time. I felt like I had truly “made it!” – I had no bills to speak of and the cash was rolling in. I was able to buy copious amounts of liquor, not to mention other “party favors” you had introduced me too. Cocaine became a daily endeavor. It allowed me to have more of you. I could snort and drink and drink and drink and stay awake and snort and drink more. We were like the 3 musketeers – inseparable.
My work life and my party life were all consuming, and I wasn’t able to keep on top of my school work. I started creating fake report cards and grades for my correspondence classes. My parents were impressed – they thought I was back on track. I was pulling in excellent marks and managing a busy social life/work life. Maybe I was going to be alright, after all. They started to give me a little bit of freedom and trust. I took it and ran.
I was 16 years old and I got my driver’s license, and my wreckage caught up to me. The correspondence school contacted my parents to inform them of my actual school situation. Within a week, my mother came home from work and "walked in on me" - ahem - with a much “older boy”. My parents received a phone call from a concerned adult regarding my cocaine/alcohol abuse and my association with known drug dealers and criminals. My parents tore apart my bedroom and found my fake ID, various substances, other supporting evidence. I won’t ever forget that day my world came crashing down on me, or my mother, panic struck, screaming at me to “GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK”. So I left.
I went straight to the liquor store. I needed to drink and calm my nerves and sort out this predicament I was in. I really had nowhere to go. I could “couch surf” from dealer to dealer for a while, but I needed a home base to shower and prepare myself for work, and a warm bed to sleep in once in a while.
Dear Alcohol,
I’m writing you today because – we need to talk. I have a few things to get off of my chest today and I want you to hear them. And honestly, this message has been a long time coming.
First off – wow, what a journey we have had. I won’t ever forget when we first met.
I was a skinny, awkward, shy, 13 year old girl, full of innocence and insecurities. Lately, I had found myself very curious about the adult world. I was feeling insecure, because I was falling “behind the pack” of my grade school peers when it came to new, adult experiences and relationships – I hadn’t had any. I found this bothering me around the clock. I was afraid of being left behind, during that uncomfortable teenage stage where we have one foot planted firmly in the comforts of childhood, and the other food dangling in the beginnings of adulthood. I had just moved to a new city with my family, and I didn’t have many friends. The friends that I did have did not seem to be interested in growing up too fast or trying new things. But there was something inside of me – this burning desire – growing stronger each and every day. I wanted to push the boundaries and I wanted to have new experiences and I desperately did not want to be left behind. I was bored of being shy, awkward, 13 year old me… the one who got straight A's, played the piano, and didn’t have many friends. I was point blank sick of it. I wanted something – needed something – bigger. Something to take my life in a new direction, full of challenge and excitement and danger and growth. But I had no idea what that something was.
One cold October day, I met up with a girl friend of mine to hang out. This friend knew some older boys, and with my insistence, we called them up to get together. I remember being nervous – still inexperienced with guys and all.
So this is where I met you alcohol, in the form of a bottle of Bacardi 151. I remember sipping slowly out of the bottle – the fiery burn as it oozed down my throat – gagging and gasping and catching my breath and doing it again. I remember how the guys were so impressed – they’d never seen a girl drink like that before they said. It was the first time I think I’d impressed a group of guys like that. We walked, more like stumbled around in the woods, we sipped more Bacardi. I yelled and screamed and laughed and they laughed and I wasn’t shy to make out with the guy I liked and it was awesome. It was like I had finally woken up, from a long, sad, pathetic dream. And thank god I woke up.
I don’t remember much of the evening after that. I woke up in my friends bed, my pants soaked in urine, my hair covered in vomit, and my parents screaming at me through the phone. I had to walk home, sick as a dog, from my friend’s house across town, and I was grounded for I don’t know how long.
What I remember from that first hangover is the intense fear of facing my parents, matched by the anxious excitement of knowing I had found the answer to my problems. You were the answer – you were the fix I was looking for. You were the key to adulthood – the solution to my insecurities and my awkward teenage years. You made me BETTER. I could be care free and fearless, I could be grown up and fun, I could be exciting – I could be everything that I was not before I met you.
It was if a light switch had been flipped – I was in love. My entire world revolved around you from that day forward.
Sometimes, it was difficult to be together during that first year. Parents were constantly interfering, I wasn’t legally “of age”, my income was limited. But I found solutions to all of those problems, slowly but surely. I would lie to my parents at first, tell them I was going to do “this or that” when I was actually going to spend time with you. Eventually they caught on and would try to “ground” me, so I would sneak out in the middle of the night to be with you, and eventually would start disappearing for days, sometimes weeks at a time. I didn’t have a cell phone back then, and I know my parents were worried and searching for me. I felt bad about it, but only when I was sober. Once I was intoxicated nothing else seemed to matter. Again, I was exactly who I wanted to be, carefree and happy. I managed to create a fake ID using a silver gel pen, a thumb tack, and some white out. It was a pretty bad fake ID – I will admit. But I got to know the clerk in town who didn’t check closely, and it did the job. As for the financial situation, being only 15 years old I secured my first job, as a cashier for a local grocer. I was having serious problems at school (getting in trouble, grades slipping, falling in with the “wrong crowd”) and so it surprisingly did not take much effort to convince my parents to withdraw me from the public school situation and allow me to start a “correspondence” program, finishing my courses at home, on my own. This also allowed me to take on more shifts at the grocery store. I was 15 years old and working almost full-time. I felt like I had truly “made it!” – I had no bills to speak of and the cash was rolling in. I was able to buy copious amounts of liquor, not to mention other “party favors” you had introduced me too. Cocaine became a daily endeavor. It allowed me to have more of you. I could snort and drink and drink and drink and stay awake and snort and drink more. We were like the 3 musketeers – inseparable.
My work life and my party life were all consuming, and I wasn’t able to keep on top of my school work. I started creating fake report cards and grades for my correspondence classes. My parents were impressed – they thought I was back on track. I was pulling in excellent marks and managing a busy social life/work life. Maybe I was going to be alright, after all. They started to give me a little bit of freedom and trust. I took it and ran.
I was 16 years old and I got my driver’s license, and my wreckage caught up to me. The correspondence school contacted my parents to inform them of my actual school situation. Within a week, my mother came home from work and "walked in on me" - ahem - with a much “older boy”. My parents received a phone call from a concerned adult regarding my cocaine/alcohol abuse and my association with known drug dealers and criminals. My parents tore apart my bedroom and found my fake ID, various substances, other supporting evidence. I won’t ever forget that day my world came crashing down on me, or my mother, panic struck, screaming at me to “GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK”. So I left.
I went straight to the liquor store. I needed to drink and calm my nerves and sort out this predicament I was in. I really had nowhere to go. I could “couch surf” from dealer to dealer for a while, but I needed a home base to shower and prepare myself for work, and a warm bed to sleep in once in a while.
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