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.