survivors and alcohol
roadrunner
Registrant
Andrew76 recently started a thread in which he referred to drinking as a means he used to cope with his memories of abuse, and of course that one has appeared on the DB many times. I wonder if it's time for a discussion of this issue in particular.
When my abuse stopped at the age of 14 I thought I was saved. I wasn't. I quickly shifted from a kind of day-by-day existence, bouncing back and forth between abuse episodes and a kind of robotic "everyday" routine at home, to one in which I started thinking about what had happened to me. I started asking the "why" questions and had no answers. I felt so alone, ashamed and guilty; it really felt like I was being crushed by it all. What scared me most was that I "missed" the abuser - I could never understand that, since when he was around I had been completely terrified.
In 1963 drugs were not yet widespread, but alcohol sure was. Like any other boy I was curious, and I quickly discovered that drinking would allow me to numb out and temporarily forget what had happened. The problem was I didn't see how I was using alcohol as a crutch, so I got into big trouble pretty fast - we all know how that goes. By the time I was in college I didn't figure I was having fun at a party until I had been sick at least once or twice, and sometimes the evening ended in convulsions - a kind of alcohol poisoning I was told.
I gradually pulled out of this because I was becoming obsessed with my studies and concentrating on that replaced my need to drink. But not before I added a lot of drugs to the equation, and again, I can look back and wonder why I am still alive.
I'm not sure why I want to say all this. Perhaps just as a way of warning myself that this is still a danger, though I am told I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe I just want to think back and be glad I escaped, despite of all the opportunities and joys that drinking took away from me. I don't think I'm venting or moaning.
But I hope others will take up this topic and share their experiences and views. For me the bottom line is that alcohol, which is a depressant anyway, never helped me in the slightest. The next day I was always in the same mess where I had started, or else even worse off.
I'm no crusader or anything like that, but this one is a real peril. If you are taking a drink every now and then to "take the edge off", watch out. I never realized I had a problem until it was really serious. As one of my teachers in college put it, "You have to decide do you want to live your life or lose it".
Much love,
Larry
When my abuse stopped at the age of 14 I thought I was saved. I wasn't. I quickly shifted from a kind of day-by-day existence, bouncing back and forth between abuse episodes and a kind of robotic "everyday" routine at home, to one in which I started thinking about what had happened to me. I started asking the "why" questions and had no answers. I felt so alone, ashamed and guilty; it really felt like I was being crushed by it all. What scared me most was that I "missed" the abuser - I could never understand that, since when he was around I had been completely terrified.
In 1963 drugs were not yet widespread, but alcohol sure was. Like any other boy I was curious, and I quickly discovered that drinking would allow me to numb out and temporarily forget what had happened. The problem was I didn't see how I was using alcohol as a crutch, so I got into big trouble pretty fast - we all know how that goes. By the time I was in college I didn't figure I was having fun at a party until I had been sick at least once or twice, and sometimes the evening ended in convulsions - a kind of alcohol poisoning I was told.
I gradually pulled out of this because I was becoming obsessed with my studies and concentrating on that replaced my need to drink. But not before I added a lot of drugs to the equation, and again, I can look back and wonder why I am still alive.
I'm not sure why I want to say all this. Perhaps just as a way of warning myself that this is still a danger, though I am told I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe I just want to think back and be glad I escaped, despite of all the opportunities and joys that drinking took away from me. I don't think I'm venting or moaning.
But I hope others will take up this topic and share their experiences and views. For me the bottom line is that alcohol, which is a depressant anyway, never helped me in the slightest. The next day I was always in the same mess where I had started, or else even worse off.
I'm no crusader or anything like that, but this one is a real peril. If you are taking a drink every now and then to "take the edge off", watch out. I never realized I had a problem until it was really serious. As one of my teachers in college put it, "You have to decide do you want to live your life or lose it".
Much love,
Larry