So I feel it is only fitting to begin this blog with a little background about my life, or to borrow a phrase: What it used to be like, what happened and what it is like now. My “drunkalogue” isn’t full of fireworks and drama. No jail sentences or bar brawls (well, one, almost…) but what it is full of is hurt. Hurt and shame and struggle. Struggle to fit in, struggle to cope and struggle to understand who I was and what I was doing.
As is common in the west of Scotland I began drinking at an early age, around 14 or 15. In hindsight, I suffered from blackouts from my very first first drink and the slope only went downhill. Sometimes it seemed to stay on an even keel but overall the trend was a downwards spiral. That isn’t to say there weren’t good times, there were of course, but I have accepted that I can no longer drink in safety. I am an alcoholic.
In the beginning alcohol was the wonderful cure to all my problems; it helped me forget, it helped me to cope, it helped me find self-confidence and now without it… I have to find other ways to deal with reality, with life on life’s terms as they say. That is no easy feat. I am 2 years sober and although I am in a far better place mentally today than I was when I first gave up my beloved alcohol there are things I still don’t fully understand how to cope with. The biggest hurdle for me is without a doubt finding some sort of self belief, self confidence. The confident part of my identity is still very much tied up in the girl I was when I was drinking and how people saw me back then. Some days are easier than others, some days I can see the good parts of me that I don’t always realise exist but most of the time I feel different, and isolated, and unsure of myself.
It is time to start looking for who I am, time to start learning to love the person I see in the mirror and time to believe in myself and my abilities. If only I knew how in seven hells to start…