The hell that was to consume my life began in 2005.
I remember it, sort of, as if it was only yesterday. I was fifteen years of age when I’d recently started attending local parties. Until that night, I’d never particularly liked alcohol. In fact, up until that night, I’d only had two beers maximum at any one time. Everything changed that evening.
I was always a shy individual who hated any sort of attention given to me. I was the sort of teenager who liked to sit in the corner of a room, observe others and join in with everyone laughing at someone else’s misfortune.
I arrived at the club that was hired for a friends surprise birthday party, the place was already full of people I recognised from school. All of which were holding onto and enjoying a pint.
Personally, I was quite surprised at this fact, most parties we’d attend until then had refused to serve us any form of alcohol.
I plucked up the courage to walk to the bar and order a pint of lager. Of course, I fully expected to be rejected but to my surprise, the barman served me without hesitance. It was such a thrill, for the first time in my life I’d actually purchased an alcoholic beverage without the embarrassment of being rejected.
The lager I purchased was a better brand and much stronger than any other alcoholic beverage I consumed in the past, maybe that was why I enjoyed the taste so much.
Finishing my second pint, I was already feeling tipsy when our friend entered, surprising and congratulating him on his birthday.
For the rest of that evening, I continued to drink at a fast pace. The last thing I remember is sitting next to the girl I’d fancied for a while and then blacking out.
The following morning I woke up feeling terrified. I was home, in bed, fully naked. My father was sat looking at me with a grin on his face and shaking his head, “do you remember last night?” was the first thing he said. Of course, I didn’t.
For the first time in my life, I was wasted. Why was I naked though? I never ever sleep naked. Then I realised, not only was I naked but I was also soaking wet.
Again my dad laughed at my bemusement, he told me that I came home around 11 pm and couldn’t walk. I was being sick everywhere so he decided he’d put me to bed and sleep on the floor next to me in case I vomited in my sleep.
He’d also tell me that around 3 am I awoke, got out of bed, fully clothed, and walked to the toilet (he’d follow me in case I’d be sick or fall down the stairs). However, in my drunken state, I’d forgotten to pull my trousers down and instead of a nice flow of urine hitting the bowl it just ran down my leg. Which is why I woke up naked and wet, embarrassed I put my head directly under the duvet and closed my eyes in shame.
It was at that moment that my phone buzzed. I looked at it expecting to see photos, videos, or text messages that would add to my humiliation. To my surprise, it was a text from the girl I’d fancied for a while, in my drunken state I’d actually gained the courage to ask for her number.
The text simply read “How’s your head this morning? We still going out today?“. I couldn’t believe it, alcohol had helped me overcome my shyness, ask a girl out and it worked. I was hooked instantly.
For the next few years, I was a moderate drinker always enjoyed alcohol more in excess when in social situations.
Quickly developing a reputation for being that person at the party who was the drunkest and making a fool of himself. At the time though I really didn’t care because I was so in love with alcohol.
I used to count down the hours on a Friday. From finishing school at 3 pm, until 7 pm, when I’d have some alcohol either at home or with friends. I continued drinking like this until it all collapsed in 2013.
August 2013, the month my drinking hit dangerous highs and unforgiving lows.
The week began with two nights in a row out on the town celebrating friends birthdays. Of course, I’d wake up both mornings feeling terrible and having blacked out the night before. I hated blackouts, it wasn’t the feeling of sickness, dehydration, and confusion I had the next day… It was the paranoia of what I’d done or what I said the previous night.
Both nights actually went well with me managing to keep it together and not embarrass myself.
I woke up on Tuesday to a phone call that changed my life forever, I think I was still somewhat drunk from the night before when I answered.
I knew exactly what the call was about, I’d been dreading it for months.
My friend rang to inform me that unfortunately, my best friend had passed away in the early hours of that morning following a short illness.
Although I was expecting the call, I was in no way prepared for how I’d react. I still have no idea what I said to my friend on the phone, all I remember is after the phone call. I told my parents and they both began crying.
It was around 11 am when I received the phone call and being in shock, I decided the best action to take was to go to the shops and buy some beers.
This is when the biggest binge of my life began and for the next five days, I’d have the same routine. I’d awaken, have a beer, walk to the shops, buy twenty more beers, some wine, return home, get back into bed and continue to drink until I passed out. On the final day, I replaced the wine with scotch.
Over that five day binge, I had one burger to eat and that was all. Did I want food? Did I, fuck.
All the while my parents knew I was upstairs upset and depressed. They knew I was drinking but they had no idea how much and for how long.
5 am that Saturday morning I awoke still lightheaded, dizzy, and confused.
I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and rushed to the toilet. I began throwing up heavily.
My parents awoke and came to check on me, I couldn’t stop being sick. After a few minutes of constant vomiting, I tried to stand. I physically couldn’t, my legs just weren’t strong enough.
I decided I’d sleep on the toilet floor, unsure for how long I was asleep when all of a sudden I awoke physically shaking and soaking with sweat. I was scared, I had this impending feeling of doom and my own mortality.
I began vomiting again, this time it was laced with blood. Now I was really scared. I laid back down on the floor when I started to see spiders, rats, and moths flying around the room. I started to scream to which my parents walked in. A big beam of light filled the room, I then realised it was midday Saturday.
My mum began to talk to me but I had no idea who she was, I genuinely believed that she was my deceased friend’s mother.
My parents eventually helped me to my feet and I started to walk back to my bedroom. I collapsed. I’d never collapsed before in my life yet again I was scared. My parents helped me back onto my bed but the shaking and sweating wouldn’t end. Once again I was sick.
My mother then made the decision to ring the local NHS walk-in centre, before I knew it, my parents were ordering me to shower and then they’d take me to the walk-in centre. On reflection, showering was pointless, by the time we’d driven to the centre I’d completely drenched my clothes with seat once again.
I remember sitting in the car park shaky and absolutely frightened. My parents helped me out of the car and to my surprise, I could actually walk okay.
As soon as we entered the centre the entire waiting room seemed to stop what they were doing to look over at me, I must’ve looked really sick. At that moment I had an overwhelming sense of fear and sickness from being the main focus of their attention.
I instantly collapsed to the floor, a nurse came racing out to help me up. I was so ashamed and humiliated. They put me in a wheelchair and took me straight through to see the doctor.
Once more I started to throw up large amounts of blood in her office, she looked horrified. She told my parents she’d ring the hospital and that they’d had to take me there directly, this scared all three of us.
On our way back to the car I could see everyone in the waiting room looking over at me, this still remains one of the most humiliating moments of my life.
Once in the hospital, I was given medication to stop the vomiting and given a bed. Still hallucinating except there weren’t any more rats or spiders, this time it was people.
There was a large window next to my bed in the ward and I asked my mum to tell the people at the window to stop laughing at me but no one was there. I’d lost all sense of time and reality.
Later that evening, I was told that the doctor would see me at midday the next day. I then stormed up to the reception, having ripped the drip out of my arm at midnight, asking where the doctor was. The staff explained to me that it was midnight but all I could see was that the clock was on 12 and that meant it was midday despite it being pitch black and silent.
The next day I woke up feeling physically better but now just completely disgusted with myself.
The staff at the hospital were absolutely phenomenal and I cannot thank them enough for their patience, compassion, and love at a time of desperation for myself.
I stayed in the hospital a few more days, I was being lectured each day on the dangers of drinking, being shown patients in the ward who were three times my age.
My parents arrived to finally pick me up, we went around the staff members thanking them. One nurse told me that I’m twenty-three, young, and healthy. I shouldn’t be in this ward, I should be out enjoying life.
I left the hospital full of motivation never to drink again. Spending a week after in bed watching tv, doing anything to avoid drinking and hiding my shame from the world. I managed a few weeks sober before I started drinking again.
Since then I’ve ended up in the hospital another time for the same reasons, had a few hundred more blackouts, continued to consume alcohol monthly, and thrown many meaningful relationships away in the process.
My drinking pre-2013 was one of a social drinker who’d wake up with a hangover but ultimately recover the next day.
Post-2013, I’m a binge drinker who begins drinking and then cannot stop. I’ll typically drink heavily until I pass out and ensure that I have alcohol to consume as soon as I wake the following day.
This cycle will repeat itself until I am either really sick or cannot drink because I have work to go to.
As of writing this, I am sober, doing everything I can to stay sober and disassociating myself with places and people who encourage my drinking.
The late Richard Burton put it best, “booze is like a boxing match, each day you evade him, but one day unless you’re careful he is going to nail you right on the chin and that’s you finished.” For me this is true. Today I am winning the fight.
If you or someone you know is seeking help for mental health concerns, visit the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration or SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357). It’s a confidential, free, 24-hour-a-day, 365-day-a-year, information service, in English and Spanish, for individuals and family members facing mental and/or substance use disorders. This service provides referrals to local treatment facilities, support groups, and community-based organizations. Callers can also order free publications and other information.
