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The normalization of excessive drinking hid my issues from me
Wine. Gin and Tonics. French 75s. Champagne.
I drank them all. But never at home or alone — which in my mind, made my weekend drinking habit okay. However, I drank and drank and drank on the weekend with my friends. Two glasses turned into three, four, or more, and often I lost count. I rarely felt sick or unable to function the next day, and that created a sense of that my behavior was okay.
I also rarely felt buzzed. Instead, I’d skip right to drunk and that made telling when I had had too much difficult. To my horror, I’d sometimes be so drunk that my that actions embarrassed me the next day even though my friends and I would laugh about our antics. And Monday mornings were often met with dread, a bloated stomach, and lethargy from my weekend benders.
Why did I drink so much?
Until ten years ago, I drank exactly twice a year —a glass of champagne on Christmas and one at Easter with my extended family. But after my husband’s traumatic accident and subsequent affair (and the slow imploding of our marriage), I found myself leaning on alcohol to ease my anxiety and depression. What I didn’t realize was that drinking made my diseases worse, and instead I focused on how, in the moment, I felt…
