For years, I struggled with my career, changed paths, questioned my abilities, and wondered why I couldn't get anywhere despite being reasonably capable. All this time, I continued drinking. Even as I slowly began to understand that alcohol was a problem, Despite everything. I never gave it the attention it deserved.
For years, I was brave, heroic, smart, and confident with alcohol. Without it, I was cowardly, insecure, scared, and uncomfortable. Whenever I drank, I could feel those superpowers returning to my bones. What I didn't realize was that those superpowers were borrowed from my future: my time, money, energy, and confidence.
I didn't realize that by making myself comfortable with a couple of drinks, I was gradually losing my ability to tolerate discomfort, shyness, uncertainty, and social awkwardness. And perhaps the most important thing I failed to understand was that removing discomfort from life comes at a serious cost.
What I considered courage was often my inability to face reality without alcohol. I wanted to do difficult things, but I didn't want to experience the discomfort that came with doing them. Alcohol wasn't just costing me money, time, jobs, and opportunities. It was interfering with the very abilities I needed to build those things: patience, perseverance, consistency, and the ability to tolerate discomfort.
Another thing I wish I could emphasize to my younger self is sleep.
For years, I thought alcohol helped me sleep. It took me a long time to realize the difference between falling unconscious and getting a good night's sleep. I rarely experienced that genuine energy you feel after waking up properly rested. I also failed to realize was how much alcohol itself was responsible for my sleeping problems. Drinking disturbed my sleep, and poor sleep made me anxious, exhausted, and desperate for relief. So I reached for alcohol again, believing it was helping me.
The very thing causing the problem was presenting itself as the solution. It was the same with anxiety, money, confidence, and career. Alcohol made my problems worse, then offered itself as the cure.
When I realized alcohol was a problem. I attended AA meetings, read books, tried different rules, and went through periods of sobriety. But I never treated alcoholism as my biggest problem.There were always more urgent things to fix: career, money, stability, responsibilities. I kept changing paths without seriously examining why I couldn't stay on one. I genuinely believed I would address alcohol once my life became stable. I was waiting for stability to quit, when quitting was one of the things I needed to become stable.
I tried almost everything except making recovery my central responsibility.
Even when I could remain sober for months without understanding how to remain sober for years. When you've struggled desperately to stop drinking, even a few months of abstinence can feel like an enormous achievement. And it is. I learned much later was that staying sober and sustaining sobriety are not necessarily the same challenge. I eventually began to understand that sobriety required active engagement even when I wasn't drinking.
I had heard in AA that helping other alcoholics could help us stay sober. Earlier, I thought it was mainly about supporting other people or keeping the fellowship alive.
Now I understand it differently.
When I write about my experiences or try to help someone understand alcoholism, I am also forcing myself to confront things I might otherwise gradually forget. The consequences, the excuses, the patterns, and the little lies I once told myself.
I am doing it for myself as much as for anyone else.
If I could tell my younger self one thing, It would be this:
Even if you fail in your career, never make much money, and never achieve your ambitions, facing those failures without alcoholism is still better than carrying this burden while trying to succeed.