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The author wished to remain anonymous.
My history with drinking has been fraught with dependency and illness. It began when I was a teenager, the first sip of beer repulsing me when I was around fourteen. After that, I realized that alcohol tastes bad – but how it made me feel would be something I chased for years. When I was sixteen, I started drinking heavily. My problem had mostly been binge-drinking. I could stay without alcohol for a few days, but if I drank then I didn’t know my limit, drinking till I blacked out whenever I could. It was easier when I began and my tolerance was lower. A quarter of vodka would get me drunk, more than that would lead me towards the blackouts I often craved. These days, even two quarters of whiskey leaves me functional enough to push through the night.
When I began, I remember drinking a lot of Green Apple flavoured vodka. Whenever I would drink with friends, we’d often chug the liquor neat from the bottle. To this day, I can’t stand the taste or smell of vodka, especially of the Green Apple variety. I remember an ex-girlfriend, before we started dating, pressuring me to drink because, and I quote, “You’re more interesting when you’re drunk.” A part of me knew I couldn’t blame her. Getting drunk would often provide me with an ease I lacked in my general interactions with people. The first sip would visibly relax my body, and as I drank on I would feel a freedom that sobriety kept from me. It made me a lot more agreeable in the earlier days of my drinking, but the blackouts would slowly lead to a toxic relationship with the past-time I thought would keep me engaged without any side-effects. I was in denial about my worsening relationship with alcohol. By the time I was in college, I found myself drinking every night for maybe two, three days in a week – which slowly grew to four or five whenever I could manage it. To me, it was certainly easier to go behind the nearby mall I hung out at rather than travelling an hour to my university to get some productive work done. I made the former choice many times, and the days blurred into each other as I drank whiskey to a senseless stupor.
Underage drinking is often done around other illegal things around it. When something might be against the law, it is easy to fall into the trap of spending time around people that break the law in other ways. Whether it was drunk driving by the people I hung out with, or the consumption of cannabis or harder drugs – I found myself falling further into the trap of surrounding myself with a number of vices, simply because mine needed to be hidden and supported by those around me. Drinking with a person that abused pharmaceuticals led to the development of a nasty habit on my part as well. I began misusing benzodiazepines for the high – thankfully in the country I live in a lot of benzodiazepines are weaker than what’s found in Western countries. That didn’t stop us from popping twenty 0.5mg pills whenever we’d get the opportunity. And combining downers with alcohol is a dangerous game – one we’ve played around with many times. Craving the out-of-body experience that a blackout gives led me to chasing these highs for months. There were some people, like my ex-girlfriend, that mentioned my toxic relationship with multiple substances – but it fell on deaf ears. Like before, I was in denial of the worsening situation, and dug my grave further as I refused to acknowledge or accept my problem.
As I mentioned earlier, having illegal things going on increases the likelihood of other such activities being done. In the grasp of my vices, I fell further down into delinquency when I cheated on my ex-girlfriend twice under the influence of benzodiazepines and alcohol. It isn’t an excuse, and I’m not looking to justify the things I have done, the people I have wronged. I know I was struggling with an issue that snowballed into multiple other problems, and in the process of dealing with my denial I have caused pain to those I have claimed to love. I hope to be better than I was, because I know there is no rewriting the history I have lived – it has been a long process of coming to terms with myself after doing things I thought I wasn’t capable of doing. But a lot of self-hatred has led me to an understanding of myself as a flawed individual attempting to cope through the various issues I have grown up with, which has often complicated other facets of my existence. Untangling my own traumas and experiences that led to the abuse of substances I have been prone to is my journey, and I know I am still on the path towards discovering my own personal truth.
After I confessed to my ex-girlfriend out of immense guilt, I was hospitalized for the first time within a few months. I had tried to acknowledge my issues, but I was still struggling with a pill addiction, unable to stop binge-drinking with friends. This led to the development of a hiatus hernia from the constant vomiting – my stomach bulges up into my chest through an opening in the diaphragm. I was diagnosed with Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD) and multiple ulcers within my stomach. A lot of vomiting blood had led me to being hospitalized for around five days. They tried to put a nasal tube into my stomach to drain it, but I ripped it out twice because it felt extremely uncomfortable. My parents barely came to visit, my ex-girlfriend stayed with me for the whole duration. However our relationship had long grown toxic and though I appreciated her company, I dealt with physical abuse from her as I was trying to recover in the hospital.
The doctor found out I had smoked cannabis and drank alcohol, and told my family that it’s best I get discharged or insurance won’t cover my stay. I’d like to believe I got better and changed when I went back, but my return was more of a necessity than a recuperation. The detox for a few days made it a little easier to stay clean for a few more days, but before long I was back at drinking and smoking – certainly not helping my condition. Vomiting whenever I woke up became a constant experience. I would try and manage what I ate, but smoking cigarettes with occasional drinking put my digestive system at risk of relapses into sickness. Heartburn, acid reflux, and a burning sensation in my chest became familiar feelings as I struggled to maintain a semblance of health and most often failing to do so.
While I was dealing with my physical health, my mental health was certainly not getting better. I was still somewhat in denial despite multiple situations when I felt suicidal. Seeking help was not an option because I was still dependent on my parents and found myself unable to talk to them constructively about my issues. They had a lot of judgement, and weren’t able to understand what I was going through – calling my suicidal tendencies cowardice, or labelling me a junkie. There were multiple instances where I attempted to communicate my inabilities and hardships, but found walls in response to my experience. They weren’t able to understand. Meanwhile, I was struggling with pills again. I had relapsed in practically every regard, despite the physical shock that my hospitalization felt like. Though I wanted to do better, I found myself treading the same path that led me to experience and deal out a lot of pain within my life. I had hoped to improve, but my dependencies found their way back – and then, the lockdown was starting to begin all over the world. I had gone cold turkey off of benzodiazepines at home, somehow making through to the other side. And then – my country went into lockdown.
I remember when lockdown began – I lost access to cannabis and alcohol, and cigarettes were increasingly difficult to get a hold of as shops closed. Moreover, they had grown more expensive as some places were selling them against the law. This led me to buy “beedis” which were local smokes wrapped in tobacco leaf without a filter. They were mostly bought by the poorer section of society, and cost about 20 bucks for 20 pieces, versus around 400 for 20 cigarettes. Although it was a bargain, it inflamed my GERD and other physical issues as the smoke was much harsher and more direct without any filter. Smoking compulsively became my routine during the beginning of lockdown, as the work I was doing halted since it was dependent on face-to-face interactions. A few months were spent solely smoking tobacco as I was unable to get my hands on other substances. Some months into the lockdown, the restrictions were eased and the alcohol shops were reopened. I got myself a bottle of whiskey as soon as I could.
Knowing that I would revert back to my old habits as soon as possible made it hard coming out of lockdown. As more freedom was given within society after the virus had its first two waves, I found myself going out and getting drinks more. My physical health was suffering throughout this period as well, with the same symptoms coming back since I was still unable to make lasting changes in my compulsions. I found myself to be a slave to my dependencies again, constantly going back to old habits that refused to die even after multiple wake-up calls.
As the lockdown eased out, I found myself smoking and drinking regularly again. This led to the constant morning sickness to return, and I would take four hours after I woke up to feel somewhat functional, which impeded my ability to do a lot of things I wished to. As the symptoms worsened, I found myself taking more hot showers to calm my muscles down, to ease the abdominal cramps and aches that were a consistent recurrence. Once again, the blood in my vomit returned. A difficult night with a lot of pain led to another hospitalization, and I spent two days in the ICU vomiting my guts out. They tried to put in the nasal tube again – I told them I couldn’t handle it and that I would take it out. I was stubborn, but after they got it in once I ripped it out in front of the nurses. They showed me restraints and threatened to tie me down, and I asked to be discharged if they wish to put the tube back in. They relented, saying that I should be prepared to vomit uncontrollably if I don’t allow them to drain my stomach – I let them know I was willing to make that decision, since I wasn’t a stranger to vomiting at this point.
My second stay in the hospital wasn’t any easier. I found myself in a vulnerable state emotionally, breaking down after a patient that shared a room with me complained about my ceaseless showering. But another, older woman that shared the same room reassured me and let me know that my priority should be to get better whatever it takes. After a five days in the hospital, I was discharged. I stayed clean for a week – and then the smoking resumed. Since then, I’ve had a drink multiple times even though I know it isn’t the best choice to be making. Regardless, I have tried to space out the days I drink. I am still struggling with smoking, and my health is always at a precarious position – never too far from worsening. It has been a difficult road trying to maintain some balance when I feel driven by dependencies and compulsions that control me. It has been a few months that I have consulted a couple of psychiatrists, and have started therapy. I am hoping these support systems provide some perspective on how I can deal with my substance abuse and other tangential struggles. All I know is I am still on the path to recovery, and it will be a while before I can feel free from the chains that have bound me all this while. My hope is to find a way to deal with real life without chasing highs to calm me down – but we’ll see how far I get.
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