For a long time, drinking wasn’t really part of my life. On my 21st birthday, it was honestly the last thing on my mind. What I wanted to do was to gamble in a casino, and I ordered a beer from the blackjack table as an afterthought. ‘Oh right, I can drink now too.’

I was a very occasional beer drinker until migraine headaches drove a change to a ketogenic diet in my early-mid twenties. At the time, it was still a very social thing for me. Because I wanted to continue to join my friends and colleagues for a drink from time to time, I made the switch to whisky because it was pure alcohol, no carbohydrates. And I had to do it right. I learned all about bourbons and ryes and single malts, and even bought myself a set of those fancy glencairn glasses so that I could do it like all of the hardcore whisky enthusiasts.

It started off slow, like anything else. I’d have 5-10 bottles of various whiskies at any given time and have maybe one glass a week in the evenings, paired with a cheap cigar so that I could feel classy. None of it seemed problematic, until it became problematic.

Alcohol Was Not the Problem Until It Was

I slowly started to subconsciously connect alcohol to stress relief. It killed any anxiety or stress that I had about anything, no matter how big or small. It took years for me to even recognize that I would reach for the bottle when anything that disrupted the status quo entered my life, negative or positive.

Good day? Drink.

Bad day? Drink.

Stress? Drink.

Celebration? Drink.

Boredom? Drink.

Eventually, it was not event-based anymore. It was infrastructure. It was a slow creep that invaded every aspect of my being.

Functional Is a Dangerous Word

Looking back at myself and seeing others who go through the same process, it is very possible to be “functional” while simultaneously being on the decline. Bills may still get paid. Jobs are kept. Relationships still exist. But the baseline gets worse and worse. I recall thinking, deep into my alcoholism when I would regularly kill a fifth of shitty bourbon every night, that I must be special because I don’t ever experience hangovers. It wasn’t that I didn’t get hangovers. It was that my baseline had become so terrible that I completely forgot what it was like to feel like a person.

“Functional” becomes a way to avoid admitting the damage that has been and is being done.

The Stories I Told Myself

“I can stop whenever I want.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Other people drink more.”

“I deserve this.”

“I’m under a lot of stress.”

“This is just how I relax.”

All of these excuses contained some truth, but all they were really doing was protecting the addiction.

What Alcohol Was Doing for Me

It numbed my feelings. It temporarily reduced my anxiety. It gave me permission to check out of things that mattered. It made boredom tolerable. It quieted the shame that I felt in brief spurts. It helped me feel less guilt about avoiding things that needed attention.

The question is not just “why did I drink?”

The question is “what job did alcohol have?”

What It Cost

My intention is not to sound dramatic, but it truly did cost me everything. My health suffered greatly. I spent an absolutely ridiculous amount of money on feeding the habit itself and also dealing with the consequences of drunken stupidity. I destroyed the trust of people dear to me. I lost so much time, just drinking. Many important moments in my life were lost under the haze of being drunk. The false confidence that alcohol gave me damaged my self-respect. I was emotionally dumbed down to the point of not reacting to anything - good or bad. I lost myself. I forgot who I was in every sense.

The Part I Am Still Figuring Out

I am a long way from thinking that I have a solution. I do have some sobriety under my belt, but alcoholism is something that still plays a very large role in my life, and I have to stay vigilant to prevent complacency and falling back into old habits. This is still part of the reset. I am still learning how to live without outsourcing discomfort to alcohol.

What I Want to Watch For Now

Avoidance - alcohol made me okay with avoiding the things that are important to me. The things that made me uncomfortable.

Isolation - I shut myself off from the world. Not only did I not want to feel anything outside of oblivion, I didn’t want anyone to see how far I had fallen.

Romanticizing past drinking - 12-step meetings are notorious for talks about the ‘good old days’. They’re the one place where one can speak openly and explicitly about the depths of their degeneracy and be met with laughs and knowing smiles as opposed to horror.

Stress - The biggest contributor to my desire to drink. Caring is hard, but the things that are important to me matter more than the discomfort of knowing that something may not pan out the way that I want.

Boredom - Alcohol makes just about anything fun. At first. There were times that I would get drunk and do absolutely nothing. I’m not talking about lazing around the house binge-watching television. I mean nothing. Staring at the wall. It made me okay with existing just to draw breath.

Shame - A negative feedback loop. Drink, say or do something stupid, sober up and feel ashamed, then drink to stop the bad feelings.

The goal is not just “don’t drink.” The goal is to understand the system that made drinking useful to me.

Closing

I do not think alcohol created every problem in my life. That would be too simple, and honestly, too convenient. Alcohol became one of the ways I avoided dealing with problems that were already there. Then, over time, it became a problem large enough to create new ones.

Alcohol was not the whole problem. It was part of a larger system that I thought was my solution. In time, it became one of the clearest signs that the system was failing.

Reset Theory means looking honestly at that system instead of pretending it is fine.