My Life With Alcohol
This is a story about a boy. A boy and his journey with alcohol. A boy with nothing particularly special about him. Growing up in an unspectacular part of the world to a fairly unspectacular family. He was, in a word, ordinary.
But he dreamed of more. And if there was one thing he could do better than most, it was dream. And when he dreamed, it was never about him holding a bottle of beer in hand, sitting on the couch. It was him heroically fighting off a legion of skeletons with nothing but a sword and the sweat from his brow. In his dreams, his celebrations involved more fireworks and bright lights than they did shots and bitter drink.
He had his first taste of beer at a young age. Enamored by the beverage in his father’s hand, the boy was offered a taste. He hated it.
It would be many years more, long after many of his friends had already tasted the forbidden beverage that the boy once again tried. This time it came from his brother who offered a helpful tip to avoid the savage taste of beer; hold your nose.
And so for the first time, the boy felt the full hazy glow of an alcoholic daze. And it brought a smile to his face.
The first time he drank at college, he puked at the end of the night after a long dizzy spell. He did so from his bed in the top bunk. His roommate didn’t seem to mind.
While the drinking of alcohol afforded him some camaraderie with his newfound friends, he was far from home for the first time in his life. And it did not assuage the problems that battled him most.
At parties, he often sat alone, talking to no one for long stretches. He recalled the angry protests of his father for not being more social during family gatherings in his childhood.
Some nights, when his friends held parties down the hall, small gatherings with people he knew, the boy felt the grip of fear and stayed alone in his room. Watching anime, no doubt. He didn’t drink alone….. yet.
At the age of 21, the boy had his first run-in with the law. He felt like a failure. And felt very alone.
In many ways, journalism was a savior for the boy. Instead of cowering in fear at the specter of new experiences and new people, he brought the world to him. And the world seemed to accept him.
But it soon grew to be too much for the boy. Day after day of interviews. Calling strangers, entering strange homes, seeking out the world. It was stressful, exhausting and it dragged at the core of the boy’s being. And so he did, what he’d never really done before. He drank alone.
He drank almost every day after returning home from work. It was the only way to dim the butterflies in his stomach. It was the only way to relax and prepare the boy to do it all over again the next day.
The only time the boy felt safe and happy was when he had his headphones on, could drown out the world with song and bring all he had wrought tirelessly from the world onto the page. It made the boy happy, but it wasn’t enough to keep the angst at bay.
After college, work was hard to come by for the boy. He didn’t much like the opportunities presented.
And so he retreated to the familiar. And told himself it was only temporary.
But there was one thing very important in his life the boy had neglected for too many years, and he thought to himself, I’m going to make the most of this situation. I’m going to focus on girls!
But to do so, the boy needed an ace up his sleeve. He knew he needed to be more than the shy, quiet one banishing himself to the corner. He needed something that had proven invaluable to opening his personality to the world while in college.
But even with the aid of alcohol, and a growing confidence, non-college relationships proved to be more complicated than he was prepared for.
And while alcohol could open up his personality, it couldn’t open up his heart. And it wouldn’t allow him to let people in on an intimate, vulnerable level. Though that didn’t stop him from trying with more and more alcohol, until……
One would think that by now the boy would have learned his lesson. But for the boy, the only thing standing between happiness and a life alone in misery was a version of himself only alcohol could unlock. And not even finding love could could dissuade that thinking.
Nor could the loss of that love.
For there was always someone new. But with new loves also came the prospect of new heartache.
And so, the boy found a new reason for drinking. A new way to escape what had become the pain of reality. And this reason hung like a specter over every waking day. Until the boy found a new reason to reject alcohol.
But eventually, he found a reason to drink for more than sadness once again. And for the first time ever, life seemed to make sense. And he was happy in a way he hadn’t really known before.
But the boy forgot a very important lesson from his past. Not everything was about him. And some things, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you care, some losses are inevitable.
And for the boy, when reality became too unbearable to face, alcohol became the only constant he could embrace. And this went on.
And on.
Until the boy found himself thinking things he’d never really given serious thought to before.
The boy thought he was a loser. The boy thought he had nothing to offer the world.
And the boy had nothing left but to prove himself wrong. And so he did the only thing he could if he wanted to continue living, he stopped drinking altogether... for a time. And he did something he knew had been a long time coming.
And the boy found some new things to live for even though much in life lost its luster.
He knew the only path was forward. And it was time to finish lamenting the things in life he could not control and to take responsibility over the things he could. And it was at long last time to no longer be just a boy.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t still have some fun drinking from time-to-time.
