It’s March 2018 and multiple things happen which make me question my relationship with alcohol. I have been a social weekend drinker since I was probably 15 years old. And you can bet I did not miss many weekends of partying or just enjoying some beers or glasses of wine along the way.
I would have never called myself an alcoholic, as I was fully functioning, but I did nearly burn down my parent’s kitchen once and got myself into some other minor troubles at times. Drinking will do that, but I always enjoyed that feeling of immediate relaxation, joy and relief when that first drink was running down my veins.
But the number of drinks gradually seemed to increase and when I did an actual count for March 2018, I estimated I’d had about 70 drinks. Probably still manageable, but given I was drinking only every 3-4 days, you can calculate that the number of drinks per session … maybe 7-9. That’s almost “Olympic material.” And with those “Olympic performances” came the blackouts, which seem to increase during those weeks and month beginning 2018.
Es war einmal ein Kleinunternehmer, der sich einem Kredithai ausgeliefert und bei ihm große Schulden gemacht hatte. Mit jedem weiteren Monat türmten sich die Zinsen und durch die Last der Raten drohte er alles zu verlieren, was er sich bis dahin so hart erarbeitet hatte.