What's the craving like?
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Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: By the sea
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What's the craving like?
Anyone out there have any idea what the craving for booze feels like? Kind of a silly question probably, but I'm just trying to understand the addiction. Is it like a nicotine addiction? Or heroin? When we talk about them choosing, is it like choosing not to eat carbs? Or is it more like choosing not to smoke? I'm just so thankful I've never liked drinking that much.
Don't get undies in a bunch
Join Date: Apr 2004
Location: South Shore MA
Posts: 7,120
Ever eat a pistachio nut...just one? Seems impossible to do.
What happens when you eat a bad one that tastes yuck?
You reach for another to remove the taste from your mouth.
That was how my drinking was like. I can't speak for others who may of had a addictive need for alcohol on a daily basis. I can only say what I felt.
One was to much and 100 was not enough.
What happens when you eat a bad one that tastes yuck?
You reach for another to remove the taste from your mouth.
That was how my drinking was like. I can't speak for others who may of had a addictive need for alcohol on a daily basis. I can only say what I felt.
One was to much and 100 was not enough.
Last edited by best; 01-22-2007 at 07:28 PM.
Becoming a Butterfly
Join Date: Jun 2006
Location: New York, NY
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I think it depends on the stage. I think it starts out as an obsessive desire, like that of someone who desires a cigarette even though they quit five years ago. It's mostly in their head.
Later when there's a physical addiciton it appears to be like the burning need for heroin - "I need it to not die!"
Later when there's a physical addiciton it appears to be like the burning need for heroin - "I need it to not die!"
Last edited by WantsOut; 01-22-2007 at 06:53 PM. Reason: edit
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I think it starts like when you quit drinking coffee and you miss that first cup in the morning. You can do it but it sure is nice to face that steaming cup in the morning or on a cold rainy day. It's like a friend. It's like telling a gardener they may never grow flowers again, smashing the fingers of a great pianist. I think it is like taking away the only thing that takes away the pain and having someone else judge you for missing it, needng it. This all in a world full of people who have lush gardens and nimble fingers. It's just you that can't garden, just you that can't play the piano because you have a problem.
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Join Date: May 2004
Location: over yonder
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If one has drank for years and drank a lot, they start to shake, sweat, have anxiety, nerve endings itch, fears, nausa etc. etc. you want that drink to make this all stop. Withdrawal is a bitch. Learned from those in tretment centers and the nurses. Also the foggy brain, really can't get thoughts together.
I feel, but do not know, some are up tight people and they want to drink to pass out, just to quit worrying, feeling nervous etc. To leave the world they don't understand and cannot fit into.
I feel, but do not know, some are up tight people and they want to drink to pass out, just to quit worrying, feeling nervous etc. To leave the world they don't understand and cannot fit into.
Don't get undies in a bunch
Join Date: Apr 2004
Location: South Shore MA
Posts: 7,120
Originally Posted by mallowcup 
I think it starts like when you quit drinking coffee and you miss that first cup in the morning. You can do it but it sure is nice to face that steaming cup in the morning or on a cold rainy day. It's like a friend. It's like telling a gardener they may never grow flowers again, smashing the fingers of a great pianist. I think it is like taking away the only thing that takes away the pain and having someone else judge you for missing it, needng it. This all in a world full of people who have lush gardens and nimble fingers. It's just you that can't garden, just you that can't play the piano because you have a problem.
Nice thought process but the pianist and the gardener do what they do because they love doing it. Alcoholics drink but don't always like what they do. A foot in a trap that they don't know how to get out of, so have another and repeat the cycle of forgetting our problem till the next day we wake up not being drunk.
Why as codies would we wake up every day and repeat the same things of yesterday? ...trying to fix others.
Till we know a better way, we continue doing the only things we do know in a state of desperation. Till the alcoholic or the codie reaches their bottom, they continue with what they know.
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Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Booneyville USA
Posts: 246
I think I know exactly what it feels like. But as the codie in this I don't crave booze. I crave the alcoholic! I'm addicted to the smell of him, the sound of him, the taste, the feel, and yes even the drama! I'm powerless to stay away. No matter how bad he makes me feel, no matter how he hurts me, or how he cannot love me I NEED him. I tried to quit and failed repeatedly. I walk away from him. I do really well at first. Then the addiction starts to call out to me. My mind obsesses. My heart breaks. My body wants his touch. I'm bored. I hear his voice or see him. I cave. Just like alcohol treats him-- without compassion, love, or regard for his safety, health or wellbeing-- that is how he treats me. And just like he can't stop, neither can I...without HELP AND TREATMENT.
I consider myself 4 days sober now...from my alcoholic!!
I consider myself 4 days sober now...from my alcoholic!!
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Join Date: Jan 2007
Location: iowa
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Ask me about chocolate and I could tell you! but here's my thought/experience -
I do believe, although I'm no professional - that my AH suffered from a post-traumatic stress disorder that was never talked about, noticed or addressed by anyone when he was a preteen. And so, was left to grow to what it is today.
I'm reminded of a poem he got when he was at treatment once- just wish I could find it all but what I remember is..
"How deeply afraid, I've always been
of the lightness of being,
and the darkness within."
He drank so he didn't feel so much and he drank to feel.
Not really a craving - but a need.
I do believe, although I'm no professional - that my AH suffered from a post-traumatic stress disorder that was never talked about, noticed or addressed by anyone when he was a preteen. And so, was left to grow to what it is today.
I'm reminded of a poem he got when he was at treatment once- just wish I could find it all but what I remember is..
"How deeply afraid, I've always been
of the lightness of being,
and the darkness within."
He drank so he didn't feel so much and he drank to feel.
Not really a craving - but a need.
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Join Date: May 2004
Location: over yonder
Posts: 1,548
Simple, we drink because we are alcoholic.
If everyone drank over childhood trauma, or anything else heartbreaking, everyone would be drunk.
Some can never be alcoholic. Half a drink and they vomit, or get too dizzy to drink more and have to lay down.
If everyone drank over childhood trauma, or anything else heartbreaking, everyone would be drunk.
Some can never be alcoholic. Half a drink and they vomit, or get too dizzy to drink more and have to lay down.
Wipe your paws elsewhere!
Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 3,672
I remember a little boy who walked to the local saloon to spend time with his alcoholic father.
I remember a five-year-old child who's father succumbed to alcoholism leaving his mother to care for five young children.
I remember a mother who worked as a cook as her first job and worked as a receptionist in a doctor's office as her second job and struggled to feed her five children.
I remember five young children who stayed home alone tending for themselves while their mother worked and worked and worked.
I remember a little boy who'd find his mother sitting at the kitchen table crying inconsolably after peaking inside every cabinet and finding all of them bare and weaping at the thought that soon five little faces would be looking to her and expecting dinner.
I remember a young boy who was tied to the front porch as a form of punishment while all the neighbors walked by and said, "poor boy," yet did nothing.
I remember a young boy who delivered newspapers every morning and gave every cent he earned to his mother to help put food on the table.
I remember a young teenager who worked summers as a landscaper and was asked to wait outside in the back of a pick-up truck while the other white landscapers went inside to eat.
I remember a young man who saw signs on restaurants and bathrooms and drinking fountains that said "whites only."
I remember a young man who society treated as less than human.
I remember a man who struggled for equality, who was denied equal rights and equal pay.
I remember a man who came to believe that he was less than a man.
I remember a man who found his youngest sister dead at the age of 18 in a hotel room after an overdose of drugs.
This man learned how to ease his pain in the only way he knew how. He drowned out the pain with alcohol.
Then one day, along came a woman, 15 years his junior who had a priviledged, carefree, and happy childhood free from addiction of any kind. A woman who's only knowledge of segregation came from old TV clips and books at school. A woman who'd never struggled for anything in her life until, that is, she struggled to understand her man's need to drink.
That man was Richard, my alcoholic partner for the last 24 years. A really special and wonderful man who many would ignore and perceive him as less than equal and missed out on knowing a truly gentle, loving soul--a soul that's much too fragile for this world.
This is the pain he feels when he's sober, and this is the pain he tries so desperately to sooth with alcohol. I wish I could reach back in time to the 1950's, long before I was born, and hug that little boy and tell him that he's worthy of love, equal treatment, a good job, respect, and happiness. But I can't do that any more than I can reach beyond his alcoholism and tell him that he is perfect just as he was and just as he is.
That's the best explanation I can give on what it must be like to need alcohol to survive.
I remember a five-year-old child who's father succumbed to alcoholism leaving his mother to care for five young children.
I remember a mother who worked as a cook as her first job and worked as a receptionist in a doctor's office as her second job and struggled to feed her five children.
I remember five young children who stayed home alone tending for themselves while their mother worked and worked and worked.
I remember a little boy who'd find his mother sitting at the kitchen table crying inconsolably after peaking inside every cabinet and finding all of them bare and weaping at the thought that soon five little faces would be looking to her and expecting dinner.
I remember a young boy who was tied to the front porch as a form of punishment while all the neighbors walked by and said, "poor boy," yet did nothing.
I remember a young boy who delivered newspapers every morning and gave every cent he earned to his mother to help put food on the table.
I remember a young teenager who worked summers as a landscaper and was asked to wait outside in the back of a pick-up truck while the other white landscapers went inside to eat.
I remember a young man who saw signs on restaurants and bathrooms and drinking fountains that said "whites only."
I remember a young man who society treated as less than human.
I remember a man who struggled for equality, who was denied equal rights and equal pay.
I remember a man who came to believe that he was less than a man.
I remember a man who found his youngest sister dead at the age of 18 in a hotel room after an overdose of drugs.
This man learned how to ease his pain in the only way he knew how. He drowned out the pain with alcohol.
Then one day, along came a woman, 15 years his junior who had a priviledged, carefree, and happy childhood free from addiction of any kind. A woman who's only knowledge of segregation came from old TV clips and books at school. A woman who'd never struggled for anything in her life until, that is, she struggled to understand her man's need to drink.
That man was Richard, my alcoholic partner for the last 24 years. A really special and wonderful man who many would ignore and perceive him as less than equal and missed out on knowing a truly gentle, loving soul--a soul that's much too fragile for this world.
This is the pain he feels when he's sober, and this is the pain he tries so desperately to sooth with alcohol. I wish I could reach back in time to the 1950's, long before I was born, and hug that little boy and tell him that he's worthy of love, equal treatment, a good job, respect, and happiness. But I can't do that any more than I can reach beyond his alcoholism and tell him that he is perfect just as he was and just as he is.
That's the best explanation I can give on what it must be like to need alcohol to survive.
Last edited by FormerDoormat; 01-22-2007 at 09:14 PM.
Member
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: Murrieta, Ca
Posts: 2,683
This:
And this:
And this:
I think it depends on the stage. I think it starts out as an obsessive desire, like that of someone who desires a cigarette even though they quit five years ago. It's mostly in their head.
Later when there's a physical addiciton it appears to be like the burning need for heroin - "I need it to not die!"
Later when there's a physical addiciton it appears to be like the burning need for heroin - "I need it to not die!"
If one has drank for years and drank a lot, they start to shake, sweat, have anxiety, nerve endings itch, fears, nausa etc. etc. you want that drink to make this all stop. Withdrawal is a bitch. Learned from those in tretment centers and the nurses. Also the foggy brain, really can't get thoughts together.
Simple, we drink because we are alcoholic.
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