I don’t know when it started, I just know that it will probably end with my life.
I was in a serious relationship with my college girlfriend, for whom I moved to a different city so I could be close to her. We used to see each other almost daily and things were going well for us. It was back in 2009–10, and all I worried about was impressing her right and left. Not a single day went by when we didn’t fight or argue, but deep down, I knew that I was absolutely and unequivocally in love with her.
I had been drinking before we got into this relationship. I used to have a few whiskey shots here and there, but nothing serious. However, I smoked a lot — like 15–20 cigarettes a day. I guess she had some sort of breathing issues, and she hated it [I learned a few years back that she also smoked here and there, but that was after we parted ways]. Anyway, I hid my smoking from her, but she knew about my normal drinking habits.
One fine day, I happened to taste beer, and here I am writing about my addiction.
For as long as I can remember, beer has been a constant companion in my life. Right after graduating, moving to Bombay, going to Goa, and returning home, it has been with me like a constant supporter. I would say that it started as a way to unwind my days, but to be honest, there was nothing serious going on in my life that needed some sort of unwinding.
After graduating, I was in a relationship with another girl [I dated her for eight years]. I started writing for radio shows and ad agencies, and things were okay. Yes, I was not living my dream, but I was close to what others would call “happy times.”
Slowly and gradually, drinking turned into a small indulgence to numb the disappointments and frustrations that seemed to pile up, especially during my time in Bombay.
See, I published my first book in 2014 and didn’t achieve the name that I so wanted. The energy and opportunities it gave me are countless, but the failure of my first novel somehow chipped my rejection, and in my search for some comfort and solace — I started drinking almost on a daily basis.
As you can see, it began as a casual habit and later transformed into a daily ritual — a necessity.
Every day, I would reach for a bottle and convince myself that it would be just one beer that I had control of. But right after taking the first sip, I know that I am not going to stop at one single beer.
There are going to be two, three, or even four, if time permits, before I wind up and head to bed!
As mentioned here, I also smoked a lot — another habit that crept up on me. I needed a cigarette when I woke up; I needed a cigarette just to take a dump! I needed a cigarette every time I had a coffee, or anyone wanted to have a conversation with me!
Thankfully, I managed to quit smoking on March 18, 2018, a small victory in a larger battle. But the urge never completely left me; not a single day goes by when I don’t have the temptation to take a drag now and then.
I know that it lingers in the shadows, and at a moment of my vulnerability, it is going to come back and hang on my shoulders till the very end.
But if smoking was something I could walk away from, alcohol has been a more stubborn adversary to me. Beer became my crutch, my way of dealing with anything that came to me. I find excuses to go to a restaurant where they serve alcohol.
Do you want to know the irony of this write-up? Yes, you guessed it right. I am drinking while expressing my thoughts, and it is 2:20 in the afternoon.
During the winters, I jump to Old Monk rum. The sweet burn of rum makes it extremely easy for me to lose myself in it.
This is an extremely sad confession to make, but when I sit down with a bottle of Old Monk, I don’t just take a sip and quit — I drink half the bottle, at least before I call it a day.
I’ve tried to rationalize my drinking over the years. I’ve told myself that it’s just a way to relax, that it’s no different from someone else unwinding with a movie or a book. But the truth is, it is different. It’s different because it’s affecting my health, both physically and mentally.
Whenever I drink, I become a different person.
Unfortunately, I like that person a lot because he is not worried about stories or novel writing or why one of the friends stopped calling and why the other friend stopped seeing him! That person is just happy and relaxed and tries to enjoy life!
Admitting that I have a problem has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. It’s easy to make excuses, to convince myself that it’s just a phase that I’ll cut back soon.
But deep down, I know that’s not true. This isn’t a phase — it’s a pattern that I’ve allowed to develop, a pattern that I need to break before it breaks me.
However, I am not there yet. If I were there, I would have focused on my novel writing or short stories that I so ardently love instead of writing this publicly! I know I am not going to stop, but now I understand that this is a battle that needs my urgent attention.
With each passing day, I hope to grow stronger.
I don’t want alcohol to tell me that I am a good person. I want to be happy without the need for it. I want to sleep without having any nightmares or to wake up in the middle of the night only to find that there are bottles in my room.
I hope to find a way before I drown in this barley malt!
V.
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Image Provided (Owned) by the Author
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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