Writing
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Aug 2012
Location: Boston
Posts: 50
Writing
Had the urge to write today, and don't necessarily want to share it with anyone in real life. Just my musings today, so I thought I'd post here so that somebody could read it as I felt like sharing it.
MORE
This morning I drank 6 cups of coffee. Was I still groggy and tired after cup number five, or even four or three? No. But I like the way coffee makes me feel, and I wanted to feel more of that. I’ve been back at my childhood home for the last two weeks recovering from surgery on both my legs, so I haven’t had much exciting going on. Without the ability to get a natural high from exercising, or to sit up at a desk long enough to exercise my workaholic nature, I’ve turned to an excess of the few highs I can pursue lying down – binge drinking coffee, watching entire seasons television shows in a day, spending twelve hours straight browsing the web and spending hundreds of dollars I don’t have online shopping. I guess most people wouldn’t consider this behavior too troubling for someone who’s been holed up on a couch for two weeks straight. But what troubles me is the fact that, for all of these things, there is no stopping point at which I felt truly satisfied.
I’ve heard addiction described as the disease of more. And I’ve come to realize more and more that I am an addict.
Recently I made the decision to stop drinking alcohol. I’ve made this decision before, and the longest I’ve stayed true to it was about two and a half months. Anyone who’s gone out with me in the past year would probably deny that I have an alcohol problem. I have no idea if I “qualify” as an alcoholic, and frankly I don’t care. I don’t care because I don’t think the substance itself matters all that much. I often say how grateful I am that I never tried any hard drugs, because I’m quite certain it would have led me down a very dark road. And while alcohol isn’t cocaine, or heroin, or meth, it is an addictive drug nonetheless, and it is a drug I have abused for a very long time.
During my four years at college I earned nearly perfect grades, had full merit scholarship, successfully held a number of volunteer and internship positions and applied and was accepted to many law schools. I almost never drank during the week. I exercised daily. I ate well.
During my four years at college, I also spent more Saturdays and Sundays than not vomiting for six to eight hours straight. I went to the hospital on at least three separate occasions the morning after drinking to get a saline IV. I concocted plots with my best friend to convince our other friends to pregame with more shots, because they were never drunk enough for our liking. I hitchhiked home once because I didn’t feel like walking far enough to find a cab. The night is hazy, but I remember getting into the front seat of an SUV next to the man driving it, only realizing the next morning how much danger I had put myself in. I have an alcohol citation from the university that I tell everyone is just from being caught drinking underage. The girls in the room connected to my single told on me, and the story makes them sound like absolute bitches, but the truth is, I pissed and **** on their floor and they only told the RA after I spent all day lying in bed swearing I’d clean it up, but was so sick I was unable to even move, let alone make good on my promise. I once had to attend a 10am Saturday training for an internship, and almost didn’t make it there on time because I had to get off the T twice to vomit in garbage cans in the stations. I told them I had a stomach bug when I arrived, and to this day feel guilty that they went out of their way to get me tea and food and water to make sure I felt better. But it was college.
During my semester abroad, I was surrounded by fellow partiers, so the times I blacked out, peed on my bed or roommate’s floor and vomited in the street were considered par for the course. One of my girlfriends back at school had had her stomach pumped four separate times, and one of those times she was found by a complete stranger passed out on the street. It was college, and from my view, everyone around me was drinking at least as much as me. It wasn’t until a couple years after graduating that I realized many of my classmates who I knew through classes or activities other than drinking actually drank in moderation. The thought had frankly never occurred to me.
As a young adult, I went through periods where I didn’t drink simply because I did not have time. For years I juggled work and school, so I easily went months without touching a drop of alcohol. But when I did drink, it was in excess. After a semester of difficult courses, I got so drunk at a party I threw that I went to bed before any of the guests had even left, then got up in the middle of the night, blacked out and knocking over furniture, just to punch my boyfriend square across the jaw when he tried to get me back to bed. When I went out with a younger friend and her recently graduated college classmates, I drank so much I blacked out and began vomiting in the street. She accompanied me to the hospital the next day when I couldn’t keep down even a drop of water. Just weeks later, I got upset over a boy at a Cinco de Mayo party and drank nearly an entire bottle of tequila alone. I blacked out at 9pm and my friends spent nearly the entire night trying to get me home, where I **** my pants because I was so sick. Had a sober person been with us, I’m quite sure I would’ve been brought to a hospital and told my blood alcohol level was near deadly. I would perhaps identify that night as my “bottom,” which probably makes me a “high-bottom” alcoholic since I didn’t lose my job, get in trouble with the law or hurt anyone. Either way, it served as a wake up call to try and scale back.
Since then, I've had many weekends where I maxed out at four or five drinks, drank water and generally behaved. But I still had nights where the best of my intentions went out the window once I had a few in me. I’d once again sought out a group of friends who loved to party, so no one thought much of it, and in fact celebrated it, when I had a one night stand, ordered a **** ton of late night food to binge on, or drunk texted half of my phone contacts. I began pregaming even before meeting people to pregame, pouring myself extra when no one was looking and sneaking sips of friends’ drinks when they went to the bathroom at a bar or club. When I began to consistently wake up weekend mornings feeling an incredible sense of guilt, followed by several days of depression, I started to really consider that I might have a problem.
Even if alcohol itself weren’t the primary issue, I took anything that caused me depressive symptoms very seriously. I’ve vaguely told friends that I “just start to feel a little down from drinking.” I don’t tell them this means I start having nightmares every night, or that after a weekend of heavy drinking I’m likely to spend two to three days lying in bed, not because it’s relaxing or enjoyable in any way, but because I literally can’t get out. And while I may not be physiologically addicted to alcohol (yet), I am addicted to sugar (and to flour/wheat/grains as well, which for all intents and purposes, your endocrine system and brain recognize as sugar). Alcohol stimulated awful sugar cravings in me, leading me to binge on ice cream, baked goods, bread and pasta for several days after drinking, all of which further worsened my depression. It would take me nearly all week to get back to eating normal, to not resorting to digging half eaten boxes of donuts or cold pizza out of the trash to satisfy my cravings, and just when I was feeling better the weekend would wash up again like a tidal wave and I would start the cycle again.
Being at home for two weeks has made it easy to forgo both alcohol and sugar. But I genuinely fear what will happen when I return to real life tomorrow. I believe I will always live a life of extremes. Moderation is a losing battle for me, but it is also largely believed to be the “right” way to handle vices by those who don’t understand addiction. I don’t know what to say to my friends who know me as a drinker. I don’t know what to say to people who ask why I won’t try “just a bite” of something with sugar or flour. I don’t know if I am an alcoholic, or if I will someday be able to enjoy a treat on my birthday without it spiraling into months of binge eating. But I do know I am an addict. And I know now not to let anyone, including my own mind, talk me out of that fact.
MORE
This morning I drank 6 cups of coffee. Was I still groggy and tired after cup number five, or even four or three? No. But I like the way coffee makes me feel, and I wanted to feel more of that. I’ve been back at my childhood home for the last two weeks recovering from surgery on both my legs, so I haven’t had much exciting going on. Without the ability to get a natural high from exercising, or to sit up at a desk long enough to exercise my workaholic nature, I’ve turned to an excess of the few highs I can pursue lying down – binge drinking coffee, watching entire seasons television shows in a day, spending twelve hours straight browsing the web and spending hundreds of dollars I don’t have online shopping. I guess most people wouldn’t consider this behavior too troubling for someone who’s been holed up on a couch for two weeks straight. But what troubles me is the fact that, for all of these things, there is no stopping point at which I felt truly satisfied.
I’ve heard addiction described as the disease of more. And I’ve come to realize more and more that I am an addict.
Recently I made the decision to stop drinking alcohol. I’ve made this decision before, and the longest I’ve stayed true to it was about two and a half months. Anyone who’s gone out with me in the past year would probably deny that I have an alcohol problem. I have no idea if I “qualify” as an alcoholic, and frankly I don’t care. I don’t care because I don’t think the substance itself matters all that much. I often say how grateful I am that I never tried any hard drugs, because I’m quite certain it would have led me down a very dark road. And while alcohol isn’t cocaine, or heroin, or meth, it is an addictive drug nonetheless, and it is a drug I have abused for a very long time.
During my four years at college I earned nearly perfect grades, had full merit scholarship, successfully held a number of volunteer and internship positions and applied and was accepted to many law schools. I almost never drank during the week. I exercised daily. I ate well.
During my four years at college, I also spent more Saturdays and Sundays than not vomiting for six to eight hours straight. I went to the hospital on at least three separate occasions the morning after drinking to get a saline IV. I concocted plots with my best friend to convince our other friends to pregame with more shots, because they were never drunk enough for our liking. I hitchhiked home once because I didn’t feel like walking far enough to find a cab. The night is hazy, but I remember getting into the front seat of an SUV next to the man driving it, only realizing the next morning how much danger I had put myself in. I have an alcohol citation from the university that I tell everyone is just from being caught drinking underage. The girls in the room connected to my single told on me, and the story makes them sound like absolute bitches, but the truth is, I pissed and **** on their floor and they only told the RA after I spent all day lying in bed swearing I’d clean it up, but was so sick I was unable to even move, let alone make good on my promise. I once had to attend a 10am Saturday training for an internship, and almost didn’t make it there on time because I had to get off the T twice to vomit in garbage cans in the stations. I told them I had a stomach bug when I arrived, and to this day feel guilty that they went out of their way to get me tea and food and water to make sure I felt better. But it was college.
During my semester abroad, I was surrounded by fellow partiers, so the times I blacked out, peed on my bed or roommate’s floor and vomited in the street were considered par for the course. One of my girlfriends back at school had had her stomach pumped four separate times, and one of those times she was found by a complete stranger passed out on the street. It was college, and from my view, everyone around me was drinking at least as much as me. It wasn’t until a couple years after graduating that I realized many of my classmates who I knew through classes or activities other than drinking actually drank in moderation. The thought had frankly never occurred to me.
As a young adult, I went through periods where I didn’t drink simply because I did not have time. For years I juggled work and school, so I easily went months without touching a drop of alcohol. But when I did drink, it was in excess. After a semester of difficult courses, I got so drunk at a party I threw that I went to bed before any of the guests had even left, then got up in the middle of the night, blacked out and knocking over furniture, just to punch my boyfriend square across the jaw when he tried to get me back to bed. When I went out with a younger friend and her recently graduated college classmates, I drank so much I blacked out and began vomiting in the street. She accompanied me to the hospital the next day when I couldn’t keep down even a drop of water. Just weeks later, I got upset over a boy at a Cinco de Mayo party and drank nearly an entire bottle of tequila alone. I blacked out at 9pm and my friends spent nearly the entire night trying to get me home, where I **** my pants because I was so sick. Had a sober person been with us, I’m quite sure I would’ve been brought to a hospital and told my blood alcohol level was near deadly. I would perhaps identify that night as my “bottom,” which probably makes me a “high-bottom” alcoholic since I didn’t lose my job, get in trouble with the law or hurt anyone. Either way, it served as a wake up call to try and scale back.
Since then, I've had many weekends where I maxed out at four or five drinks, drank water and generally behaved. But I still had nights where the best of my intentions went out the window once I had a few in me. I’d once again sought out a group of friends who loved to party, so no one thought much of it, and in fact celebrated it, when I had a one night stand, ordered a **** ton of late night food to binge on, or drunk texted half of my phone contacts. I began pregaming even before meeting people to pregame, pouring myself extra when no one was looking and sneaking sips of friends’ drinks when they went to the bathroom at a bar or club. When I began to consistently wake up weekend mornings feeling an incredible sense of guilt, followed by several days of depression, I started to really consider that I might have a problem.
Even if alcohol itself weren’t the primary issue, I took anything that caused me depressive symptoms very seriously. I’ve vaguely told friends that I “just start to feel a little down from drinking.” I don’t tell them this means I start having nightmares every night, or that after a weekend of heavy drinking I’m likely to spend two to three days lying in bed, not because it’s relaxing or enjoyable in any way, but because I literally can’t get out. And while I may not be physiologically addicted to alcohol (yet), I am addicted to sugar (and to flour/wheat/grains as well, which for all intents and purposes, your endocrine system and brain recognize as sugar). Alcohol stimulated awful sugar cravings in me, leading me to binge on ice cream, baked goods, bread and pasta for several days after drinking, all of which further worsened my depression. It would take me nearly all week to get back to eating normal, to not resorting to digging half eaten boxes of donuts or cold pizza out of the trash to satisfy my cravings, and just when I was feeling better the weekend would wash up again like a tidal wave and I would start the cycle again.
Being at home for two weeks has made it easy to forgo both alcohol and sugar. But I genuinely fear what will happen when I return to real life tomorrow. I believe I will always live a life of extremes. Moderation is a losing battle for me, but it is also largely believed to be the “right” way to handle vices by those who don’t understand addiction. I don’t know what to say to my friends who know me as a drinker. I don’t know what to say to people who ask why I won’t try “just a bite” of something with sugar or flour. I don’t know if I am an alcoholic, or if I will someday be able to enjoy a treat on my birthday without it spiraling into months of binge eating. But I do know I am an addict. And I know now not to let anyone, including my own mind, talk me out of that fact.
Member
Join Date: May 2012
Posts: 1,424
I'm sorry you're in this situation right now and hope for a speedy recovery so you can get on with living your best healthiest life. I related a lot to your description of the weekend coming again like a tidal wave starting the cycle over after spending the week getting back in track. Although in the end I was drinking on weekdays too. Stay true to yourself and dot worry that others don't understand. You can say that any if it doesn't agree with your system. Take care of yourself.
Nothing is impossible!
Join Date: Jun 2013
Location: EAGAN
Posts: 792
Originally Posted by sj999 
Had the urge to write today, and don't necessarily want to share it with anyone in real life. Just my musings today, so I thought I'd post here so that somebody could read it as I felt like sharing it.
MORE
This morning I drank 6 cups of coffee. Was I still groggy and tired after cup number five, or even four or three? No. But I like the way coffee makes me feel, and I wanted to feel more of that. I’ve been back at my childhood home for the last two weeks recovering from surgery on both my legs, so I haven’t had much exciting going on. Without the ability to get a natural high from exercising, or to sit up at a desk long enough to exercise my workaholic nature, I’ve turned to an excess of the few highs I can pursue lying down – binge drinking coffee, watching entire seasons television shows in a day, spending twelve hours straight browsing the web and spending hundreds of dollars I don’t have online shopping. I guess most people wouldn’t consider this behavior too troubling for someone who’s been holed up on a couch for two weeks straight. But what troubles me is the fact that, for all of these things, there is no stopping point at which I felt truly satisfied.
I’ve heard addiction described as the disease of more. And I’ve come to realize more and more that I am an addict.
Recently I made the decision to stop drinking alcohol. I’ve made this decision before, and the longest I’ve stayed true to it was about two and a half months. Anyone who’s gone out with me in the past year would probably deny that I have an alcohol problem. I have no idea if I “qualify” as an alcoholic, and frankly I don’t care. I don’t care because I don’t think the substance itself matters all that much. I often say how grateful I am that I never tried any hard drugs, because I’m quite certain it would have led me down a very dark road. And while alcohol isn’t cocaine, or heroin, or meth, it is an addictive drug nonetheless, and it is a drug I have abused for a very long time.
During my four years at college I earned nearly perfect grades, had full merit scholarship, successfully held a number of volunteer and internship positions and applied and was accepted to many law schools. I almost never drank during the week. I exercised daily. I ate well.
During my four years at college, I also spent more Saturdays and Sundays than not vomiting for six to eight hours straight. I went to the hospital on at least three separate occasions the morning after drinking to get a saline IV. I concocted plots with my best friend to convince our other friends to pregame with more shots, because they were never drunk enough for our liking. I hitchhiked home once because I didn’t feel like walking far enough to find a cab. The night is hazy, but I remember getting into the front seat of an SUV next to the man driving it, only realizing the next morning how much danger I had put myself in. I have an alcohol citation from the university that I tell everyone is just from being caught drinking underage. The girls in the room connected to my single told on me, and the story makes them sound like absolute bitches, but the truth is, I pissed and **** on their floor and they only told the RA after I spent all day lying in bed swearing I’d clean it up, but was so sick I was unable to even move, let alone make good on my promise. I once had to attend a 10am Saturday training for an internship, and almost didn’t make it there on time because I had to get off the T twice to vomit in garbage cans in the stations. I told them I had a stomach bug when I arrived, and to this day feel guilty that they went out of their way to get me tea and food and water to make sure I felt better. But it was college.
During my semester abroad, I was surrounded by fellow partiers, so the times I blacked out, peed on my bed or roommate’s floor and vomited in the street were considered par for the course. One of my girlfriends back at school had had her stomach pumped four separate times, and one of those times she was found by a complete stranger passed out on the street. It was college, and from my view, everyone around me was drinking at least as much as me. It wasn’t until a couple years after graduating that I realized many of my classmates who I knew through classes or activities other than drinking actually drank in moderation. The thought had frankly never occurred to me.
As a young adult, I went through periods where I didn’t drink simply because I did not have time. For years I juggled work and school, so I easily went months without touching a drop of alcohol. But when I did drink, it was in excess. After a semester of difficult courses, I got so drunk at a party I threw that I went to bed before any of the guests had even left, then got up in the middle of the night, blacked out and knocking over furniture, just to punch my boyfriend square across the jaw when he tried to get me back to bed. When I went out with a younger friend and her recently graduated college classmates, I drank so much I blacked out and began vomiting in the street. She accompanied me to the hospital the next day when I couldn’t keep down even a drop of water. Just weeks later, I got upset over a boy at a Cinco de Mayo party and drank nearly an entire bottle of tequila alone. I blacked out at 9pm and my friends spent nearly the entire night trying to get me home, where I **** my pants because I was so sick. Had a sober person been with us, I’m quite sure I would’ve been brought to a hospital and told my blood alcohol level was near deadly. I would perhaps identify that night as my “bottom,” which probably makes me a “high-bottom” alcoholic since I didn’t lose my job, get in trouble with the law or hurt anyone. Either way, it served as a wake up call to try and scale back.
Since then, I've had many weekends where I maxed out at four or five drinks, drank water and generally behaved. But I still had nights where the best of my intentions went out the window once I had a few in me. I’d once again sought out a group of friends who loved to party, so no one thought much of it, and in fact celebrated it, when I had a one night stand, ordered a **** ton of late night food to binge on, or drunk texted half of my phone contacts. I began pregaming even before meeting people to pregame, pouring myself extra when no one was looking and sneaking sips of friends’ drinks when they went to the bathroom at a bar or club. When I began to consistently wake up weekend mornings feeling an incredible sense of guilt, followed by several days of depression, I started to really consider that I might have a problem.
Even if alcohol itself weren’t the primary issue, I took anything that caused me depressive symptoms very seriously. I’ve vaguely told friends that I “just start to feel a little down from drinking.” I don’t tell them this means I start having nightmares every night, or that after a weekend of heavy drinking I’m likely to spend two to three days lying in bed, not because it’s relaxing or enjoyable in any way, but because I literally can’t get out. And while I may not be physiologically addicted to alcohol (yet), I am addicted to sugar (and to flour/wheat/grains as well, which for all intents and purposes, your endocrine system and brain recognize as sugar). Alcohol stimulated awful sugar cravings in me, leading me to binge on ice cream, baked goods, bread and pasta for several days after drinking, all of which further worsened my depression. It would take me nearly all week to get back to eating normal, to not resorting to digging half eaten boxes of donuts or cold pizza out of the trash to satisfy my cravings, and just when I was feeling better the weekend would wash up again like a tidal wave and I would start the cycle again.
Being at home for two weeks has made it easy to forgo both alcohol and sugar. But I genuinely fear what will happen when I return to real life tomorrow. I believe I will always live a life of extremes. Moderation is a losing battle for me, but it is also largely believed to be the “right” way to handle vices by those who don’t understand addiction. I don’t know what to say to my friends who know me as a drinker. I don’t know what to say to people who ask why I won’t try “just a bite” of something with sugar or flour. I don’t know if I am an alcoholic, or if I will someday be able to enjoy a treat on my birthday without it spiraling into months of binge eating. But I do know I am an addict. And I know now not to let anyone, including my own mind, talk me out of that fact.
MORE
This morning I drank 6 cups of coffee. Was I still groggy and tired after cup number five, or even four or three? No. But I like the way coffee makes me feel, and I wanted to feel more of that. I’ve been back at my childhood home for the last two weeks recovering from surgery on both my legs, so I haven’t had much exciting going on. Without the ability to get a natural high from exercising, or to sit up at a desk long enough to exercise my workaholic nature, I’ve turned to an excess of the few highs I can pursue lying down – binge drinking coffee, watching entire seasons television shows in a day, spending twelve hours straight browsing the web and spending hundreds of dollars I don’t have online shopping. I guess most people wouldn’t consider this behavior too troubling for someone who’s been holed up on a couch for two weeks straight. But what troubles me is the fact that, for all of these things, there is no stopping point at which I felt truly satisfied.
I’ve heard addiction described as the disease of more. And I’ve come to realize more and more that I am an addict.
Recently I made the decision to stop drinking alcohol. I’ve made this decision before, and the longest I’ve stayed true to it was about two and a half months. Anyone who’s gone out with me in the past year would probably deny that I have an alcohol problem. I have no idea if I “qualify” as an alcoholic, and frankly I don’t care. I don’t care because I don’t think the substance itself matters all that much. I often say how grateful I am that I never tried any hard drugs, because I’m quite certain it would have led me down a very dark road. And while alcohol isn’t cocaine, or heroin, or meth, it is an addictive drug nonetheless, and it is a drug I have abused for a very long time.
During my four years at college I earned nearly perfect grades, had full merit scholarship, successfully held a number of volunteer and internship positions and applied and was accepted to many law schools. I almost never drank during the week. I exercised daily. I ate well.
During my four years at college, I also spent more Saturdays and Sundays than not vomiting for six to eight hours straight. I went to the hospital on at least three separate occasions the morning after drinking to get a saline IV. I concocted plots with my best friend to convince our other friends to pregame with more shots, because they were never drunk enough for our liking. I hitchhiked home once because I didn’t feel like walking far enough to find a cab. The night is hazy, but I remember getting into the front seat of an SUV next to the man driving it, only realizing the next morning how much danger I had put myself in. I have an alcohol citation from the university that I tell everyone is just from being caught drinking underage. The girls in the room connected to my single told on me, and the story makes them sound like absolute bitches, but the truth is, I pissed and **** on their floor and they only told the RA after I spent all day lying in bed swearing I’d clean it up, but was so sick I was unable to even move, let alone make good on my promise. I once had to attend a 10am Saturday training for an internship, and almost didn’t make it there on time because I had to get off the T twice to vomit in garbage cans in the stations. I told them I had a stomach bug when I arrived, and to this day feel guilty that they went out of their way to get me tea and food and water to make sure I felt better. But it was college.
During my semester abroad, I was surrounded by fellow partiers, so the times I blacked out, peed on my bed or roommate’s floor and vomited in the street were considered par for the course. One of my girlfriends back at school had had her stomach pumped four separate times, and one of those times she was found by a complete stranger passed out on the street. It was college, and from my view, everyone around me was drinking at least as much as me. It wasn’t until a couple years after graduating that I realized many of my classmates who I knew through classes or activities other than drinking actually drank in moderation. The thought had frankly never occurred to me.
As a young adult, I went through periods where I didn’t drink simply because I did not have time. For years I juggled work and school, so I easily went months without touching a drop of alcohol. But when I did drink, it was in excess. After a semester of difficult courses, I got so drunk at a party I threw that I went to bed before any of the guests had even left, then got up in the middle of the night, blacked out and knocking over furniture, just to punch my boyfriend square across the jaw when he tried to get me back to bed. When I went out with a younger friend and her recently graduated college classmates, I drank so much I blacked out and began vomiting in the street. She accompanied me to the hospital the next day when I couldn’t keep down even a drop of water. Just weeks later, I got upset over a boy at a Cinco de Mayo party and drank nearly an entire bottle of tequila alone. I blacked out at 9pm and my friends spent nearly the entire night trying to get me home, where I **** my pants because I was so sick. Had a sober person been with us, I’m quite sure I would’ve been brought to a hospital and told my blood alcohol level was near deadly. I would perhaps identify that night as my “bottom,” which probably makes me a “high-bottom” alcoholic since I didn’t lose my job, get in trouble with the law or hurt anyone. Either way, it served as a wake up call to try and scale back.
Since then, I've had many weekends where I maxed out at four or five drinks, drank water and generally behaved. But I still had nights where the best of my intentions went out the window once I had a few in me. I’d once again sought out a group of friends who loved to party, so no one thought much of it, and in fact celebrated it, when I had a one night stand, ordered a **** ton of late night food to binge on, or drunk texted half of my phone contacts. I began pregaming even before meeting people to pregame, pouring myself extra when no one was looking and sneaking sips of friends’ drinks when they went to the bathroom at a bar or club. When I began to consistently wake up weekend mornings feeling an incredible sense of guilt, followed by several days of depression, I started to really consider that I might have a problem.
Even if alcohol itself weren’t the primary issue, I took anything that caused me depressive symptoms very seriously. I’ve vaguely told friends that I “just start to feel a little down from drinking.” I don’t tell them this means I start having nightmares every night, or that after a weekend of heavy drinking I’m likely to spend two to three days lying in bed, not because it’s relaxing or enjoyable in any way, but because I literally can’t get out. And while I may not be physiologically addicted to alcohol (yet), I am addicted to sugar (and to flour/wheat/grains as well, which for all intents and purposes, your endocrine system and brain recognize as sugar). Alcohol stimulated awful sugar cravings in me, leading me to binge on ice cream, baked goods, bread and pasta for several days after drinking, all of which further worsened my depression. It would take me nearly all week to get back to eating normal, to not resorting to digging half eaten boxes of donuts or cold pizza out of the trash to satisfy my cravings, and just when I was feeling better the weekend would wash up again like a tidal wave and I would start the cycle again.
Being at home for two weeks has made it easy to forgo both alcohol and sugar. But I genuinely fear what will happen when I return to real life tomorrow. I believe I will always live a life of extremes. Moderation is a losing battle for me, but it is also largely believed to be the “right” way to handle vices by those who don’t understand addiction. I don’t know what to say to my friends who know me as a drinker. I don’t know what to say to people who ask why I won’t try “just a bite” of something with sugar or flour. I don’t know if I am an alcoholic, or if I will someday be able to enjoy a treat on my birthday without it spiraling into months of binge eating. But I do know I am an addict. And I know now not to let anyone, including my own mind, talk me out of that fact.
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Aug 2012
Location: Boston
Posts: 50
Yeah I actually have no plans to kick the caffeine habit anytime soon haha - it's my best friend for avoiding sugar as well. To be honest I see no ill effect from it as long as I am careful not to drink it past noon so that it doesn't disturb my sleep.
Currently Active Users Viewing this Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
