My Lovely Bottle is Always With Me

Hey guys, I’m guessing at this point your morbid curiosity is driving you, and this is why you are here. Well, here’s my story, still going, in all its glory.

Binge drinking is a huge part of youth culture. That’s when people drink large amounts of alcohol at once. So like, four units of alcohol within an hour is a lot. That’s because one drink can take an hour for our bodies to process.

It is normal for people to go out and drink four drinks in an hour for a few hours in a row. It’s supposed to help people let loose and have fun, but it too quickly becomes a regular thing. It worked for me for a while. It numbed both the pain of my injury and the pain of my father’s death.

After whiskey and I got together, it was even more accessible to hide my drinking. Nobody had to see the bottles hiding in my pockets, and no one could even tell I was drunk half the time. I hid it like a superstar.

My mom didn’t know, at least I thought that at the time. I was not a sloppy drunk. I came home walking straight, and I recycled the bottles outside the grocery store and didn’t leave evidence at home. I drank enough water when I got drunk that my headaches were minimal and I powered through the hangovers.

I got a job at that same grocery store, mainly to help mom out with some bills and to get her off my back. She was always hovering over my shoulder. She was lonely, and I know that now. But I didn’t know what to do with all her attention it was so suffocating. So I pushed her away, like any other guy my age in this situation would have.

It really started going downhill when I started drinking at work. I mixed vodka in my water bottle so I could take swigs and no one would question it. I didn’t want to be asked, so I hid my problem, and it worked well because no one noticed.

I was supposed to be a baseball superstore, and instead, I was bagging groceries in the same hometown I’d been dying to leave. Dad was my everything after baseball, and I’d lost both in one fell sweep.

I soon couldn’t function without a buzz. Guess what? That’s a sign of being an alcoholic. I fit all the symptoms to a T. I hid my drinking, I lied about it, I drank even as it started to ruin my life.

Oh yeah, you thought my life was ruined already right? Well, it turns out that it could only get worse.

We’ll dig into that my next post, I’m getting a bit tired right now and writing takes a lot of energy. It’s fun though. Who knows, maybe I’ll be a writer or something one day. I’ve definitely suffered enough, and everyone says misery loves company.