the perfect amount

Part 1 of a series on drinking.

I never really thought I had a drinking problem.

No one ever told me I did.

I never had a dependence where I needed to drink everyday. But from the ages of 18-26, drinking was a big part of my lifestyle and identity.

Have you ever been in search of feeling the “perfect” amount of drunk? That was my eternal quest. Every party, every night out. Pre-drinking, chugging, taking shots to get to that sweet spot where I could finally let loose because I didn’t give a shit about anything.

Of course, alcohol takes a while to kick in. So with uncanny consistency, I overdid it. And as my tolerance grew, I drank even more. A bottle of wine went from being more than enough to just a starter.

For a long time, I was mostly a happy drunk. You could find me laughing, dancing, singing, falling off of chairs, only to get back up in a split second to tell you a joke.

But over the years, I started waking up with regrets and remorse.

More and more, fun memories were getting drowned out by embarrassing ones. Mornings after were filled with a general sense of dread.

I felt the need to apologize to people for my behaviour. Sometimes I did.

People were so kind and understanding—I’m grateful for that. But it made it harder to cut down on the drinking.

Towards the end of my binge-drinking years, darker feelings started to emerge. Sometimes I would get sad or upset. Arguments ended in tears and words I couldn’t take back. And it’s not that my feelings were invalid. But when I’m drunk, I can’t hold a proper discussion. I don’t listen. And I definitely can’t express myself properly.

I missed opportunities at genuine conversations and connections with the people around me. I was drifting farther from being the person I wanted to be. So I had to change some shit in my life.

Read Part 2 / Read Part 3