A Risky (whiskey) affair

A for Alcohol

B for barbiturates

C for Cocaine…

..unfortunately or rather fortunately for me, I needn’t go any further than my best buddy, my comforter, my partner in crime- Alcohol.

I drink, Yes. I do. I drink to get drunk and then to pass out. Alcohol is the best invention since the wheel. The warm nights are made cool and the cold ones – warm and comforting. Boring days can be made memorable and as we all know the hazy nights are the best. You might not remember what you said/ did but they make amazing stories and you in a weird, diabolic way are actually proud of all the wrong, embarrassing things you do. At least I am, more often than not. Alcohol like Marijuana is something people are okay with, the hard drugs are a scary prospect but it’s almost as though the expect you to get drunk and puke once and experiment with recreational drugs in the dead of the night at the front porch.

I’m eighteen and I drink. I drink 1 or 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 nights a week, I drink a little and I drink a lot. Alcohol makes me happier than most people I know, I am a better more refined version of myself when drunk. I’m confident, whore-like, happy, impulsive and I can still lie to your face without batting an eyelid. Shots aren’t really my thing, I like my whiskey with water and Ice, and I firmly believe in enjoying the first drink. The first sip when the elixir of life spreads on your tongue, down the pipe and you can feel it move and the light shudder and the mental satisfaction that you have an entire bottle to go before the crack of the dawn is incomparable to anything in the world. The wonderful, rich hue of the liquor when the light falls on it at the dead of the nights and the gleam in my eye together would make us look like two lovers, ready to consummate the relationship.

Drinking alone can be the most reflective and amazing experience or the complete opposite. People oft. feel lonely when they drink alone, I on the other hand revel on the very idea of drinking alone. The silence, the breeze in the hair, the warm of my body against the cool, cold surface with the bottle in my hair and the shivers down the spine when you touch the ice. The splash of the water, when it hits the glass. The feeling of peace, of escape, With that stick of nicotine between your fingers. The feeling that nothing or no one can take away this little joy from your life, because it’s yours and yours alone. It’s yours to share or save, it’s yours to drink or mix. The feeling of power when you realise that you are killing something, that’s so very integral to you and that you can stop the act of razing it’s existence or continue with it.

Somewhere  halfway through the third drink when the first drink starts hitting slowly, the stars begin to multiply. At that point I generally detest human company, I’d rather be alone while I get drunk, once drunk it’s a different ball game. So the drink begins to hit, the body feels warm and singular against the light breeze of the starry night, While the diamonds in the sky begin to multiply and tips of your finger feel cool against your skin, you wrap your hands against the crystal (or plastic/steel et cetra) and gulp down the little that was left and wait. For for the fireworks in slow motion, wait for the moment which is the line of control to come closer and while you wait you begin preparing the fourth drink. The drink that will give you the power to be whosoever you and whatever you ever wanted to do while you put the blame on your partner in crime.

.. And things begin to get slurred, and thoughts seem obscure. Words that upset you hours ago are as immaterial and the empty bottle of whiskey lying in the corner, it’ll only be used to destroy something else later in the night when you are to drunk to comprehend your own thoughts. You laugh and pour another drink and another, it tastes sweet now like honey lime water or a fizzy drink. The mahogany flavor is wasted on your wasted tongue, but you go on apologizing to the genius who created the blend in your hand and pour another and guzzle it down in sheer disrespect.

You forget things, things you wanted to remember and the tiniest bits of the siliest of conversations will come to your mind. You’ll laugh at your own jokes and call someone up and talk to them. you won’t be scared of how the world will think of you because right now, you matter. you and you alone. You’ll be honest, brutally so. You’ll be happy, or sad. You won’t be anything in the middle you won’t be ordinary. You ‘ll be clark kent or the Joker you’ll be a papaya or a cherry, you’ll pass out or whore your night away, you’ll laugh your guts out or cry our lungs out, you might drunk dial or sexy dance, you’ll be Adam and eve and everything in between but nothing ordinary… And I promise it’ll make a good story.

Then you wake up at 4 AM craving water, which then tastes like the most delicious thing ever created. Which to be honest it actually is. So you drink some water, and some more and go back to your delicious slumber

The first step is admitting the problem so here I am, I consume alcohol like it’s my birthright but i don’t think i abuse it. The lines behind use and abuse are so fluid that till you are actually in the pits, it doesn’t hit you how serious the situation is. I do not have a substance abuse problem, for now. I do get used to things which may lead to full blown addiction I know that, but I love alcohol and how It makes me feel. It makes me feel invisible and invincible and everything in between. It solves problems by giving me bigger problems to worry about, it makes me happier than most people and it’s embedded so deeply in me that it’s impossible to filter it out. I don’t know what will happen 20 years down the lane, whether i’ll be snorting cocaine in a dingy alley, or be drinking wine in a cafe in France or Just be a happy stay a home mom sneaking whiskey during football practices but I know that this relationship is for life and though in the bargain i might damage my liver, but it does save me a lot of heart ache.

3 thoughts on “A Risky (whiskey) affair”

  1. OK, so, I drink a fair bit, more than I should but this post out and out scares me. It’s one of the most frightening things I’ve read in a long time. It’s like you’re waving and cheering happily from the train as it plummets over the cliff. Reading that post, I hear again, the addict I knew talking about the love they had for their addiction. Your reasons why are even the same.

    “Why are you doing that?”
    “Because I like it and I don’t have the courage to be truly myself without it.”

    It gives me shivers because you seem to realise the gravity of what you’re saying and you don’t seem to care.

    If I was you, I’d be quite scared. Maybe, underneath the bravado you are. Is there someone you can talk to? Someone neutral who would be dispassionate? Two people close to me were addicts. One is in hospital, recovering from brain damage, the other is dead. I’m going to tell you about the person who died.

    You see, I’ve seen the other end of alcohol addiction. I’ve seen the family begging the addict to stop, I’ve seen the addict fighting to love them more than drink and failing. I’ve watched the addict forget to insure the car and have to sell the house to pay for the other cars they totalled while driving drunk. I’ve watched them driving drunk with their kids in the car. Trust me, if you became a stay at home Mum who had to snarf whiskey during football practises it’s unlikely you’ll be happy and your kids and husband? You can bet your arse they will be miserable. You know why? They’ll be watching, impotent from the sidelines as you destroy yourself. Trust me. I’ve watched it happen. And I’ve watched as the addict’s spouse struggle to hold the family together as they slide further and further into debt – alcoholism is an expensive habit to maintain.

    I’ve watched the addict bloat up, go yellow, struggle to breathe and die. Young.

    If you choose the bottle, that’s fine, indeed that post suggests you already have. But if alcohol is your first love, you’ll be a special kind of bastard if you involve anyone else. It’ll be bad enough for your parents but don’t marry anyone. Love of alcohol and love of other people is not possible. Because however much you love them, you will love alcohol more. You will condemn them to a life of misery and when you’re gone an eternity of self blame, doubt, family rifts and unanswered questions.

    Apologies if this sounds a little raw. The Addict I knew best was a lovely person, a good person; someone we all loved dearly and watching them destroy themselves was… grim. Nonetheless, they were someone with this desperate, desperate affliction that darkened the lives of those around them. An affliction that caused so much pain – not to the addict, perhaps, they were happily in denial until about 10 minutes from the end – but to the people round them. And it took them away from us a good 40 years before time.

    Years later, that pain is still there, still raw. It probably always will be.

    It’s your life. It’s your call but THINK. Find someone to talk to. Not a friend someone older and wiser and sensible. That’s all I’m asking.

    Good luck and god bless.


    1. Hello. Before I go on any further I’d like to apologize for causing you this kind of worry sitting in another part of the world all together. I’m really sorry for you loss too. This post was supposed to be frightening because the idea of an eighteen year old drinking her life away is one of the most frightening things I can think of, fortunately for me this post is 95% fact and 95% fiction. There are bits of me in there but then there are also bits of my other friends and my father and his father. Like you said ” you seem to realise the gravity of what you’re saying and you don’t seem to care.” I wanted to make this post authentic. When I write I don’t like to expose myself completely even on a so called annonymous blog, So yes, there are bits where I am completely me like where I talk about how I don’t like shots because they make me sick among other things and I admit I drink a wee bit more than I ought to, but I also know what alcohol does to lives, to families, My family being one of them and I haven’t chosen the bottle. My aim here was to put forth a future alcoholic’s perspective because time and time again I’ve asked people I love, why the alcohol?’ And they never have a response and shrug the away. All my life, my insignificant 18 year old life I have fought it, Alcohol. I drink as much as people my age drink, socially. I turn into an idiot too. But I am way to scared to make it my soul focus in life, because more than it being an expensive habbit I don’t think my mother can have another person enter the house reeking of liquor late in the evenings.
      I get the magnitude of the situation, I get it really very well and I’m sorry for your friends and my friends and hundreds of others who are wrecking havoc in their lives and ours without even thinking about it. I’m sorry again, I do like to experiment on this blog. I like to jump over facts go on to fiction and come back and I try to be authetic. It was very hard for me to write this. I, in a way was coming up with excuses for all the people I seeing wasting away and this was the best I could do. I’d rather worry about boys and getting a job than about not getting enough to drink. Anyway, Thank you for your concern. It really is appreciated, I apologize once again. I was wondering if I should take it down because it might influence those who don’t drink, to drink and that really isn’t the intention. Any suggestions?

      1. Hello there,

        Bless your heart, thank you so much for replying. I am middle aged and a bit thick and this was the first post I’ve read on your blog (doh) ;-). Normally I read round a bit more but I guess I just read it and thought yeek! Urgent reply required.

        You know what, I think you should leave it up – possibly with a brief explanation or a caveat at the start.

        1. Because you really got the tone exactly right.
        2. It’s a really, and I mean really good piece of writing.
        3 There’s probably enough in our two comments to make people think.

        I do apologise for doing the Mum on you – phnark. I am one and I get a bit carried away sometimes and over do the maternal thing. I get you re the ‘so called’ anonymity. Nothing is anonymous on the internet and you’re right to be circumspect.

        I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with it too. Take care.



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