I'd always been exposed to alcohol. It was part of my upbringing, part of our culture. It was however, never really in a good light. My parents argued about it a lot. I probably witnessed a lot of negativity around it but this didn't prevent me from future participation.
My first experience with alcohol was negative. I was about 14 years of age. I came home to find my Mum was out of the house and went to the drink cabinet and helped myself to a cocktail of various spirits. My younger brother came home to find me intoxicated and filled me with cheap bubblegum to cover the smell. I made excuses to my parents that evening that I was feeling unwell, went to bed and duly vomited all over my bedroom.
At 16, the teen drinking started. We would get somebody to buy us some alcohol and drink in fields, houses if parents were not there, the usual teen delinquency back in those days. I don't recall getting very drunk back then, perhaps I just didn't think I was.
At 17 I lost my virginity to a much older guy. I was drunk. Looking back now, it was rape. I had said No several times. This would not be the last rape under the influence of alcohol. I never viewed them as rape, I always blamed myself to some extent for getting drunk and allowing the situation to happen.
Fast forward, college - I was so much fun. The life and soul of the party. For the first time ever in my life, I was popular. I was high on it. I graduated (scraped through) and went into the workforce. Drinking was a weekend thing really at this point. I still considered myself lots of fun, I probably was. I was in a circle where it was the norm to go out and get drunk. I was in a relationship with somebody who drank far too much. This relationship broke down, I moved to the city and this is when I discovered wine. I didn't know anybody in the city apart from the guy I moved there to be with. He worked nights. Wine became my friend. Wine was convenient, didn't cost me much and a great crutch on those lonely nights. It started with red, just two glasses perhaps a night. Then the whole bottle. Red gave me terrible headaches so I tried white. Oh yes, white wine, I couldn't get enough of it.
All through this I was going from one bad relationship with a guy to a worse relationship with the next. The guys went from bad to worse. On the front, they would come across as charming, fantastic, too good to be true (that's what they were). Several of them hid drug problems. My choice in men was appalling.
I had one particularly bad relationship where I had moved countries to be with him. Within months of moving, I returned with most my savings gone and only half my belongings. I was low, the drinking got worse and this was the beginning of my downfall. It just seemed to all begin to fall apart in my life. I rushed home from work to drink. I struggled with life and any daily routine. Weekends were spent in bed, weekend evenings were spent drinking (on my own). During this time my mother almost died and this drove me to drink even more. I wasn't a daytime drinker and I didn't crave drink but I just couldn't stop when I started. I was now buying two bottles of wine at a time because I knew the first was not enough and I wanted more when I reached the end of that bottle. I was waking up some mornings on the sofa surrounded by bottles.
Then my father was diagnosed with cancerous brain tumour. His prognosis was awful. It's hard to process news like this when your mind is clouded with alcohol. Trying to digest through a hangover, trying to reason through a bottle. I didn't stop drinking, I should have. a few months into my fathers illness I took an overdose. The hospital discharged me with some follow up care and I was told I was fine. I cut down on my drinking temporarily. In no time at all I was back to nightly bottles of wine while juggling the care of my parents. I didn't realise that one day I would have to face the harsh reality of all this so kept keeping my brain in a haze. My father died. In the run up to his death, I had cut back the drinking. I had been spending most evenings by his side and was at his side when he died. The night of his funeral my mother was taken into hospital. There began a number of weeks of absolute chaos where she was discharged, re-admitted, discharged.. no diagnosis. I found wine again. I wasn't coping. I was missing my father terribly but couldn't even think about it, I was trying to help my mother. I had given up work temporarily, I was in a tailspin. My mum suffered a brain haemorrage and died a week later making it just 2 months after my father had died. My world was collapsing around me. I was trying not to drink but at the same time I kept reaching for it. It helped block out what I didn't want to remember or think about.
Fast forward a few months. October/November this year. My moods were getting lower and darker. I was trying to avoid alcohol and was having more days of none than days with it. Then for some reason, I came home from work one day. I was high, very high and have no idea why. A few days prior I had been very aggitated so had been avoiding alcohol. This particular day, I bought a bottle of wine and that evening drank it. When I awoke I was in a dimly lit room. A strange woman leaned over me and said 'Oh you're awake. Do you remember what you did'. I thought I was dreaming. I just stared at her and she said 'Your brother is on his way'. I had taken sleeping pills on top of the alcohol, deliberately. I had tried to kill myself. I was in intensive care and I had almost succeeded. I had forgotten I had changed my next of kin to my brother the previous year when my father was dying of cancer. I never even thought about the implications of him getting a call in the middle of the night that I was fighting for my life. I spent 3 days in hospital which gave me a lot of time to think. I was ashamed, staff knowing why I was there. Family now knowing. All the energy that had gone into hiding this for years, now just splattered like graffiti on a wall for all to see. Oh, the shame. On 16th November 2012, I made a conscious decision to never drink alcohol again if I intended staying alive. It's been just over a month since my last drink (which could very easily have been my last anyway had I succeeded with my overdose). My energy now has to go into rebuilding my life and try to learn to love and respect myself, somehow. I came from two great parents who worked hard to give me a good life, good education and good morals. It is time to put this to use.
My first experience with alcohol was negative. I was about 14 years of age. I came home to find my Mum was out of the house and went to the drink cabinet and helped myself to a cocktail of various spirits. My younger brother came home to find me intoxicated and filled me with cheap bubblegum to cover the smell. I made excuses to my parents that evening that I was feeling unwell, went to bed and duly vomited all over my bedroom.
At 16, the teen drinking started. We would get somebody to buy us some alcohol and drink in fields, houses if parents were not there, the usual teen delinquency back in those days. I don't recall getting very drunk back then, perhaps I just didn't think I was.
At 17 I lost my virginity to a much older guy. I was drunk. Looking back now, it was rape. I had said No several times. This would not be the last rape under the influence of alcohol. I never viewed them as rape, I always blamed myself to some extent for getting drunk and allowing the situation to happen.
Fast forward, college - I was so much fun. The life and soul of the party. For the first time ever in my life, I was popular. I was high on it. I graduated (scraped through) and went into the workforce. Drinking was a weekend thing really at this point. I still considered myself lots of fun, I probably was. I was in a circle where it was the norm to go out and get drunk. I was in a relationship with somebody who drank far too much. This relationship broke down, I moved to the city and this is when I discovered wine. I didn't know anybody in the city apart from the guy I moved there to be with. He worked nights. Wine became my friend. Wine was convenient, didn't cost me much and a great crutch on those lonely nights. It started with red, just two glasses perhaps a night. Then the whole bottle. Red gave me terrible headaches so I tried white. Oh yes, white wine, I couldn't get enough of it.
All through this I was going from one bad relationship with a guy to a worse relationship with the next. The guys went from bad to worse. On the front, they would come across as charming, fantastic, too good to be true (that's what they were). Several of them hid drug problems. My choice in men was appalling.
I had one particularly bad relationship where I had moved countries to be with him. Within months of moving, I returned with most my savings gone and only half my belongings. I was low, the drinking got worse and this was the beginning of my downfall. It just seemed to all begin to fall apart in my life. I rushed home from work to drink. I struggled with life and any daily routine. Weekends were spent in bed, weekend evenings were spent drinking (on my own). During this time my mother almost died and this drove me to drink even more. I wasn't a daytime drinker and I didn't crave drink but I just couldn't stop when I started. I was now buying two bottles of wine at a time because I knew the first was not enough and I wanted more when I reached the end of that bottle. I was waking up some mornings on the sofa surrounded by bottles.
Then my father was diagnosed with cancerous brain tumour. His prognosis was awful. It's hard to process news like this when your mind is clouded with alcohol. Trying to digest through a hangover, trying to reason through a bottle. I didn't stop drinking, I should have. a few months into my fathers illness I took an overdose. The hospital discharged me with some follow up care and I was told I was fine. I cut down on my drinking temporarily. In no time at all I was back to nightly bottles of wine while juggling the care of my parents. I didn't realise that one day I would have to face the harsh reality of all this so kept keeping my brain in a haze. My father died. In the run up to his death, I had cut back the drinking. I had been spending most evenings by his side and was at his side when he died. The night of his funeral my mother was taken into hospital. There began a number of weeks of absolute chaos where she was discharged, re-admitted, discharged.. no diagnosis. I found wine again. I wasn't coping. I was missing my father terribly but couldn't even think about it, I was trying to help my mother. I had given up work temporarily, I was in a tailspin. My mum suffered a brain haemorrage and died a week later making it just 2 months after my father had died. My world was collapsing around me. I was trying not to drink but at the same time I kept reaching for it. It helped block out what I didn't want to remember or think about.
Fast forward a few months. October/November this year. My moods were getting lower and darker. I was trying to avoid alcohol and was having more days of none than days with it. Then for some reason, I came home from work one day. I was high, very high and have no idea why. A few days prior I had been very aggitated so had been avoiding alcohol. This particular day, I bought a bottle of wine and that evening drank it. When I awoke I was in a dimly lit room. A strange woman leaned over me and said 'Oh you're awake. Do you remember what you did'. I thought I was dreaming. I just stared at her and she said 'Your brother is on his way'. I had taken sleeping pills on top of the alcohol, deliberately. I had tried to kill myself. I was in intensive care and I had almost succeeded. I had forgotten I had changed my next of kin to my brother the previous year when my father was dying of cancer. I never even thought about the implications of him getting a call in the middle of the night that I was fighting for my life. I spent 3 days in hospital which gave me a lot of time to think. I was ashamed, staff knowing why I was there. Family now knowing. All the energy that had gone into hiding this for years, now just splattered like graffiti on a wall for all to see. Oh, the shame. On 16th November 2012, I made a conscious decision to never drink alcohol again if I intended staying alive. It's been just over a month since my last drink (which could very easily have been my last anyway had I succeeded with my overdose). My energy now has to go into rebuilding my life and try to learn to love and respect myself, somehow. I came from two great parents who worked hard to give me a good life, good education and good morals. It is time to put this to use.
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