What it's like to drink a lot

We can all agree at some point in our lives, our drinking became excessive. Whether you are struggling internally or not, it's difficult to stop yourself when you begin to spiral.

You’re binge drinking 4-5 times a week to the point where your breath wrecks of liquor the following morning. You may want to forget about your problems or "have fun." However, when you start sabotaging your relationships, it's usually a sign something is wrong.

I started drinking a lot when I was a senior in college. It was fun in the beginning! The late nights, the euphoria, the memories, and the confidence of having a drink were enough for me to crave it every weekend.

Everything was perfect. I always made sure to have fun alongside trustworthy friends and paid no mind to the extent to which I was drinking—until I started to act stupid.

It began with sending drunk texts to close friends. The messages I would curate and send to these people were pretty bad. It ranged from how bad of a friend they were to me not regretting my mistakes, causing me to exile troubled friendships on the spot.

I stand by everything I say when I'm drunk, but regret the way I handled certain situations. I was stuck up and rude, with no sense of direction. I ended meaningful friendships because biting my tongue was no longer an option. Everyone's nonsense became insufferable to me when I was the nonsense everyone found insufferable. Crazy. When you believe everyone is the problem except for you.

I did, however, come to terms with the reality that the people around me were more judgmental than supportive. I wasn't the best person to be around when intoxicated, but I only lashed out at the people who deserved it most. "Drunk words are sober thoughts," and I have to agree because it was only a matter of time before I discarded these individuals from my life. Relying on alcohol to speak up is a coward move, but at least I hold myself accountable for my actions, which is a skill many lack.

My drinks kept getting stronger, letting me marinate in the pain of my past to abysmal depths. "You were just so angry all the time," an old friend said before we parted ways. Nobody was able to understand the array of emotions I was enduring, not even my best friend, and the drinking worsened.

Scraping my knees, hips, and face within several hours wasn't enough to stop me. I needed more alcohol to numb the pain, stop the thoughts, and alleviate the stress. Moreover, my work-life balance crumbled, and my managers began to resent my lack of responsibility. My job was at risk, and my mental health was shot, but I still needed a drink.

"Vodka soda—Tito's," I would shout to every bartender irritated enough to take my order.

People started to make fun of me for being a drunk. Those close to me were no longer surprised by my actions, and I learned to accept the reputation I had created for myself. "Classless, ghetto, ratchet, gross" are some of the jargon they used to describe my behavior.

My friends began to gossip about me, laughing and speaking about my situation condescendingly as if they were any better. The truth is, I was a drunk-ass mess. I would drink to forget and then despise the idea of taking responsibility for actions I didn't want to remember.

The notion of using alcohol as a way to have fun is overrated, but only when you're miserable. Remember that a solid person doesn't use alcohol as an outlet for their pent-up emotions. I, on the other hand, became a very unstable drunk. Screaming, crying, and throwing up in other people's houses was the norm. No matter how hard I tried to "live my life," the anxiety always crept in to remind me I was worthless.

The desire to numb myself from the angst of not starting my career, having a horrible senior year, and living in a Hispanic household was too much for alcohol to ease. So, I decided to analyze why I was so comfortable destroying my reputation, not socially, but internally.

Changing my habits were no longer an option as I started working two jobs and dedicated myself to saving. Then, I reflected on what I'd done to myself, my friends, and my finances.

That's not to say I won't have another drink, but I've learned to be mindful of why I need one in the first place.