I have a problem.
I drink too much.
When I drink, I drink to get drunk. I am usually not satisfied with just having one or two. This is compounded when I attend an all-you-can-drink for $XX event. I feel like I need to get my money's worth. So I pound, chug and gulp my way to being a total asshole.
I have had this problem since early on in college. I am not the most outgoing girl when I am around new people. I get pretty tongue tied and shy. I suck at small talk. But I quickly discovered when I am drunk, I am so fucking cool. My severe inhibitions disappear and suddenly, I am the life of the party. The girl on the middle of the circle dancing, and dancing very well, I might add. I am everyone's best friend.
Alcohol makes me the me I've always wanted to be. To a point. After a year of heavy drinking, alcohol turned on me. I'd create drama for no reason. I'd get violent. I'd hook up with friend's boyfriends just because they payed me some attention. I'd blackout every time I'd get drunk. There would be five hour stretches that I would have no recollection of. People would have to fill me in the next day on what idiotic things I did the night before. I'd wake up in strange places with strange faces. I would go to class reeking of stale rum and cigarettes. But I knew it had turned serious the first time I stole some vodka from a friend to pour into my Sprite to take to class with me.
Yeah, I started drinking in class. My headaches would go away. I would feel like me again. Being drunk became my reality. Sobriety was too painful.
Hello, my name is Bethany and I am an alcoholic.
This went on for another year. I'd go out every night but Sunday. Sunday would be spent half-assing my homework and laying around recovering from the rest of the week. You know you go out too much when you walk into a bar and the bartender already has a Long Island waiting at the bar for you.
I started to hate myself. Any guy that tried to date me came seventh to gin, rum, vodka, triple sec, coke and a splash of sour mix.
Every alcoholic has a turning point. Mine came Spring Break 1999 in Daytona Florida. I went with a group of friends and my boyfriend. One night, I decided I was going to bong a beer for the first time. It was much easier than I thought it would be, so I had another go at it. And another. And another. After 8 bongs in the matter of half an hour, things got ugly. My boyfriend and I started play wrestling on the bed, but when he accidentally elbowed me in the eye, I went ballistic. I started pounding on him and in turn, he pounded right back. We chased each other through the hotel and when I finally lost him and got back to the room, I decided to swallow a whole bottle of codeine pills. In my beer-soaked brain, I thought killing myself would be the ultimate revenge. I was so hungry for attention all the time now that even death was not too high a price to pay for it.
I woke up in a hospital bed with him hovering over me. The first words out of his mouth were "I just called your parents."
Shit.
I had to come home immediately. They drove down to school for an intervention. My mother was totally distraught, knowing I had tried to kill myself. They made me see a therapist. I had to attend AA. I went once. I remember looking around the room and seeing all these disgusting dead beats and vowing to myself that I would not end up like them. Ever.
I stopped drinking. Cold turkey. I was sick for weeks, but I was strong. It wasn't the alcohol I really missed, I realized. It was the attention. I have always been an attention-hungry person.
After 3 months of not drinking a drop, I slowly let myself have a drink here and there. I felt cured. But as we all know, alcoholism is never really cured. I started slipping back into old patterns. Things were better, but not great. Now I would black out after only 3 or so drinks. Not good.
So, this has been an issue for my most of my adult life. When I lived in Arizona, I'd have a drink every now and then, but it was nothing like college. I was alone a lot and never really had to opportunity to go out and get ripped. When I moved back to Indianapolis, I had a few wild nights. Even though I lived in Broad Ripple, which is bar central, drinking wasn't the problem it became in college.
Everything changed when I moved to Chicago. I lived right across from Wrigley Field with three guys who were ready to party. In fact, my whole building was full of crazy ass people. It was College, Part Deux. We were all in post-college-fuck-I-don't-want-to-grow-up-yet mode. We would go out about every night. I would get drunk about every night. It was such a chaotic and noisy environment, I'd have to get drunk just to pass out and be able to get some sleep.
Things got better after I moved out of there. I got my shit together. I can count on two of my hands and one foot the amount of times I have been black out drunk since moving to my current apartment. But that doesn't make it alright. I shouldn't be blackout drunk EVER.
EVER!
Past history has shown me I don't know my limits.
So why am I writing about this today? Because I had an awesome time Saturday night. I threw a surprise party for my boyfriend and my roommate. It was an all-you-can-drink for $XX party. Since I had dropped so much cash in the past week, I was determined to get my money's worth. Socializing turned to dancing which turned to PDA which turned to losing my wallet which turned to outrage which turned to me being completely ugly to the person I love more than anyone else in the world.
This is my biggest wake up call to date.
I would do anything for him. He is the best person I have ever known, and he deserves a person who treats him like gold.
I want to be that person. All the attention I have ever needed, he has given me ten-fold. He makes me happier than I ever thought possible.
Maybe I am just scared. Up until this point, my life has been like chalkboard. When it got too filled up, I would erase and start over. When people got too close, I would push them away. Nothing has ever been permanent. I have never had a clear grasp on what my future had in store for me. And that was completely exciting. I liked not knowing.
But now everything has changed. For once, I can see my future clearly. It scares the hell out of me. But at the same time, it would be more frightening if it didn't all come to be. Yesterday, I had to imagine my life without him... and it would be empty and full of regret.
Things are going to change. Things have to change. Not just with drinking, but with the way I handle situations. I have to be right with myself before I can expect to love him the way he deserves to be loved.
We both took and deep breath and decided to start over last night. He reached out and offered to help me. And I reached out and offered to help him. In any way I can.
That's the thing about a second chance. I am totally conscious of what I need to do. The changes I have to make. Right now, I have too much at stake.