Letter to a grieving alcoholic

My dearest friend,

All my life you have been the strongest person I have ever known, you have supported me in all I’ve done and held my hand when I couldn’t walk alone. When I’ve needed you you’ve been there without a second thought,  now all I ask of you is to let me do the same. The grief  and hurt of this has hit us all, there is no shame in grieving. 

I am here for you,  but for some reason you don’t want me to be. You still see me as a child that you must protect, you don’t have to. These last few years I have learnt to protect myself because I have had my own share of loss and death,  and am strong enough to take it. I am strong enough for both of us if you need me to be.

All I ask of you is that you try,  that you want look to the future and not let the past consume you. By all means drink if you need to but don’t promise me your going to stop and then expect me to carry you up the stairs because you can’t even see straight. Don’t make me feel guilty because I say you need help, help I cannot give you.

I can be there listen to your cries and tell you what you need to hear but if you want listen back then what’s the point?  Hearing you say “I only drink when you’re here” not only hurts but it’s spiteful as I know it’s not true.  How many times have I come home to find you drunk,  although you try to hide it. When you drink you turn into someone else, someone that I’ve come to recognise all to well and someone that I don’t like.

You put yourself and others in danger, you drink and drive,  walk around at night not knowing where you’re going.  You scare me. Constantly having my phone by my side when I’m out incase something happens,  it’s not fair. I don’t know what else to do, you won’t listen,  you won’t get help. Do you want me to just watch as you drink yourself in oblivion.

I understand you are grieving,  but grief is not an excuse to give up and give in. It’s like you enjoy having constant reminders everywhere,  shoes still in the kitchen, coats still hanging up, his clothes still in your wardrobe.  It’s been nearly a year and your not even trying to move on.  If I even suggest tidying them away you lose it with me and crack open a bottle. It’s not healthy.

I love you, but I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t sit and let you drown yourself in bottles of red every night,  sit and watch your grief take hold of you. I don’t know what you want me to do.  Tell me please.  If I can’t help you then please find someone who can.  I’m terrified of losing you, coming home to find you gone or worse, coming home not to find you.

Please, I don’t know what else I can do…

Peace.

Not an alcoholic.

The official deffinition of an alcoholic is “a man or a woman who suffers from alcoholism – they have a distinct physical desire to consume alcohol beyond their capacity to control it, regardless of all rules of common sense”.  Now like most people who have spent time at Uni (especially living in halls) alcohol played an enormous part of my social life wheather it be a Pre Drinks, a night at the SU or a quiet night in that turns into a house party. Needless to say there was a lot of alcohol consumption, but it was only during my third year that things started to change and take on a somewhat darker turn.

The quiet nights in that used to consist of a couple of  beers became a couple of  beers and half a bottle of wine, then that became a four pack of beer and a full bottle of wine which eventually turned into two full bottles of red. Nights out became a challenge to try and get as equally drunk as everyone else yet consuming at least double the amount of alcohol before I even felt “tipsy”, I was eventally nicknemed the love child of Oliver Reed and Helena-Bonham Carter… I was never drunk during the day and in my head back then that made it perfectly accetable, but as soon as I would get in I would crack open a beer whilst doing Uni work or a have a glass of wine whilst making dinner. All of which is fine, if it stopped at just one glass. Because the drink didn’t seemed to “chill me out” or affect me like it used to I would simply keep on drinking until it did.

This continued all throuout my last year of being at University and any problem I thought I had I would just put down to the student lifestyle, it was only when I returned home that something clicked in the back of my mind and sent warning bells screaming. When I wasn’t at work it would get to midday and I found myself constantly checking the time to see if was “ok” to crack open the beer (my drink of choice being Cobra to start followed by either red wine or vodka). Usually I would find myself answering yes it was ok to have a drink and more than happily have one. If I knew I didn’t have to be at work the next day my first thought was “Oh I can get drunk tonight” and with that I would stick something in the fridge for later.

One weekend I found that I had the house to myself and a day off work…I was drunk by three o’clock and throwing up in the kitchen sink by five.

I wasn’t drinking to try and numb anything, to try and block out some horrific event in my past (I can fully understand why people do) I was drinking because it had become a normal thing to do, an everyday occurrence, I was used to having alcohol in me and I wanted to enjoy it like I used to. I didn’t, but I wanted to. Thankfully the personal embarrasment of the kitchen sink hit me like a slap in the face, I stopped drinking everyday.

I was strong enough to realise this was becoming serious, and was able to control it before it became something I couldn’t deal with myself.

I give you a definition of being an alcoholic again…

“An alcoholic is a man or a woman who suffers from alcoholism – they have a distinct physical desire to consume alcohol beyond their capacity to control it, regardless of all rules of common sense.”

At no point would I ever have called myself an alcoholic, yes I had the desire to consume it, but not physically. Mentally I had become used to it and it was mentally that I found myself wanting it. I physically didn’t need it, physically I could function without it.

I will say this as a last thought, I can understand why people do rely and turn to alcohol. I will never forget the invulnerablity and confidence I felt when I first  got drunk, and how much I wanted to feel that everytime I opened a bottle. The nights I did want to be drunk so I could forget something and how well it made me sleep, the little buzzing feeling it gave me in the tips of my fingers like a hundred tiny bees trying to escape. When I was drunk, I was invincible…

Peace