The first drink I ever consumed was given to me by my best friend’s family, her uncle and my abuser when I was fourteen. The first time I didn’t get that drunk, but the next two times I got so drunk I threw up and passed out. When I turned sixteen, I did what any broken kid would do and started hanging out with the wrong people. I thought I was attractive as I sipped wine coolers and flirted with the boys in my neighborhood. My mom’s cousin passed away so she started drinking heavily. I’d come home and find her in my room crying, my TV blasting with sad music. One night she burned a hole in my sheets and I found a lit cigarette behind my bed. I lost my virginity one night to a guy I thought really cared about me. I was wasted and barely remember what happened. I started drinking vodka with my friend and began to self harm. This went on for a little while, but I eventually stopped. I have a little sister, and I was afraid that she would see my arms. My life went back to normal for a couple of years. It wasn’t until I was about 19 that I started going to the neighborhood bars. I started running with an older crowd, but I enjoyed myself. As I turned 21, I was already doing what legal adults do, so it wasn’t a big milestone. I thought what I was doing was normal. I went to karaoke every Friday and Saturday and occasionally drank on Wednesdays with my coworker. I went through some really shitty things, and my partying went from normal to out of control.

My drink of choice was Rum & Coke. I quickly realized that my coworker was a high functioning alcoholic, but he was a really great person so I over looked it. I also loved the fact that I had so much freedom in his apartment. We became like family. Eventually, though, I started drinking a lot. When I say a lot, I would drink a bottle of rum and then go out to the bar and drink more. Saturday morning, on about 3-4 hours of sleep, I’d go to work, take an hour long nap at lunch, finish my day and take a short nap before starting all over again. Sunday was my day to recover. Wednesday my coworker and I would drink again because we were both off on Thursdays. Drinking went from being fun to something I needed to do to cope with a lot of stuff. In order to keep this post semi-short, I won’t go into detail. It got to the point where I would cry every single time I’d drink. There were times I was so drunk I’d fall to the floor, just lay there and cry. There were times I’d lock myself in the bathroom, sit in the tub or on the floor, drink, smoke and call people. (Sometimes my father) My behavior got really risky. I had a near death experience at the beach and became obsessed with going there. I’d drink and find myself at the beach staring into the blackness wondering if I had enough courage to jump in again. Another time, I sat on the edge of my coworker’s building wondering if I should jump. Any kinds of self-destructive behavior I have exhibited have been under the influence. I’ve had thoughts, but I normally never acted on them. I knew that I had a problem, so eventually I cleaned up my act. I quit smoking, stopped drinking for a couple of months, and got my life back on track. That was in 2012.

For the last couple of years I have drastically changed my life (for the better). I don’t go out and do the things I used to. I don’t hang out with the same people anymore. I’ve become a better person. I have a really dark past and in some ways I don’t think I have forgiven myself for that. Due to financial issues, I was not able to go back to school this semester, and I have been taking it hard. There is really nothing to do other than stay home. My friends are either in school or working, and while I look for a job I really spend a lot of time alone. I started noticing that I was getting into the habit of drinking again. I have switched over the years from Rum to Beer and I really didn’t think I had a problem. It wasn’t like I drink all the time. When I do, though, I drink usually a case of beer. My tolerance level has risen, and in most cases if I do go out, which is rare, I’d drink the case then go out and drink more. Although, I haven’t done the things I used to, I still get upset and cry, and I do partake in risky behavior, specifically involving myself with a guy who isn’t in any shape or form a good person to be around. It almost feels like when my depression hits I gravitate towards people that are trouble, as if those are the only people I deserve to be around. The other night, I went through something really terrible, and everything came at me like  a ton of bricks.

Maybe I do have a problem?

All these years, I have been telling myself that I don’t have a drinking problem. I have convinced myself that I USED to have a drinking problem, but I have changed. But have I really? Sure, I don’t hang out with the same people in the same places, and I haven’t done half of the things I used to when I’d drink, but I still put myself in danger. I can’t have one or two drinks like a normal person. I drink until I get drunk because that’s how I like to feel.

I went to my first therapy session and I mentioned a little bit of how I used to drink, and she suggested substance abuse therapy. I was kind of shocked that she would mention something like that. But then after the session I went straight to the store and bought a case of beer. I don’t know who to turn to or how to approach this situation other than to wait until I see my therapist again. I’m terrified to stop drinking completely, because everyone I know drinks occasionally. I stopped hanging out with people before in order to change my life and although I don’t regret it, I lost a lot of people in my life. I’m afraid that the good friends I have now will not really want me around because when they do have free time, they like to kick back and have a couple drinks. I just, I know that this isn’t normal behavior. But am I really an alcoholic or do I have a drinking problem. Is that the same thing? I was up all night thinking about every single horrible thing that happened to me in my 29 years of life. I couldn’t control what happened to me from ages 12-15. I was a little girl whose parents didn’t teach her about pedophiles and dangerous situations. That I understand, but into my teenage years and twenties, every single bad thing that has ever happened to me has been under the influence--every single time.

I’m sorry for the long rant, my mind is racing, and I don’t know how to handle this..

-C