Alcohol was the first thing I ever did that made me feel normal or comfortable in my own skin. But that wasn't real. I started drinking in my early teens, 12-13-14. It took so many years to realize that it actually made me feel worse and the few times I seriously contemplated ending my life I was drinking. You have to get through the denial and face the pain that we have hidden from for so many years. I was always a happy drunk. It was so out of character from my normal dark cloud of anger I walked around under that a lot of people only preferred the happy drunk guy. In my mind it was always just part of the act. (I have always thought of myself as Pinocchio, not a real boy, a liar, and causing pain to anyone who loves me.) So even when I was the happy drunk, it was all just part of the act like a real boy/man would. The guilt, shame and paranoia that came the next day led to picking up something as soon as my mind was conscious.