I really wish I could check-in Bridget Jones-style and log how many drinks I had yesterday. But I don’t know. I don’t remember the last few hours of falling asleep in the chair. Or moving to the couch where I wake up every day. I remember watching a movie (can’t recall which one). And it’s always interesting re-reading my texts from last night, because I don’t remember sending most of them.

I’m coming to admit that drinking is taking so much away from me. I wake up dreading the inbox, with likely another disappointed person looking for an explanation. I wake up missing parts of my yesterday.

It is stealing my memories, my money, my relationships and my worth.

I can deal with a hangover. I can’t continue to deal with the constant losses. Each one is a not-so-gentle reminder of how greedy alcohol is. Like living with an abusive spouse, or a roommate that steals from you, living with alcohol is beating me up every day and taking everything from me. And I’m allowing it to. It calls to me from the store down the street, it trips me up as I walk past it in the kitchen, and it wraps its little arms around me when I need comfort.

If alcohol were a person, it would be my most fucked up friend.

I think that’s part of the problem (and there are so many parts). Alcohol is glamourized for many of us. It is literally everywhere and sold to us as an integral part of a lifestyle: luxurious and indulgent while at the same time being the vice we need when times are tough. It’s the answers when we don’t have any, the crutch when we are insecure, and the oblivion when we feel too much.

It’s the perfect solution for every situation.

Until, of course, it isn’t.

I confessed to a friend that I have started this journal. A blog for me to talk to myself, since I have trouble actually talking about this to anyone. And she used the word cathartic to describe how writing can make you feel.


Oh, how ironic. I’ve found psychological release in writing, to talk about my problem with how I find psychological relief in drinking. And, furthermore – purgative is something strongly laxative in effect, designed to release something blocked.

I self-medicate every day to try and release whatever is blocked inside me – emotions, words, regrets, fears, disappointments, responsibilities. And I need to admit that it is NOT cathartic for me when I drink, but it is quite the opposite. It’s so confusing. As Murphy Kennedy said in the “Alcohol” version of Visions Journal:

“Alcohol worked for me until it didn’t work. I then had a serious dilemma: like others who reach their so-called bottom, I faced a situation where the fear of drinking equaled the fear of not drinking.”

I drink for psychological and emotional release from strong emotions – that are caused by drinking. There it is again. Alcohol, my most fucked up friend.

I need it, because of it.

Choosing to stay in abusive relationship is mental and emotional torture. And I need to (am starting to) treat alcohol like an abusive partner. Despite how I am the one abusing it, drinking is psychologically and emotionally destroying me.

All unhealthy relationships need to end, and watching my friends go through breakups with actual people is sadly liberating. I should have no problem doing it with a bottle. It’s the coming to terms that you will need to reshape your life without that partner that is the hard part. And the only difference with alcohol is that if I change my mind, I know it will come back in a heartbeat. Without an apology, without explanation – it will gladly move back in.

I can’t move to another town where I won’t bump into them. Everywhere I go, I will see them with someone else. At every restaurant, in every television show, in every magazine. Billboards. Commercials. Conversations. I will see them loving someone else, and reminding me of what I no longer have.

I guess it’s this fear that stalls us. The concept that we will be ‘going without’ that stops us from walking away from unhealthy relationships. How do you learn to turn that thinking inside out, and realize how much you can gain?

Alcohol is definitely the most fucked up friend I have ever had to break up with.

Written by SJ VanDee

Recovery Blogger. Sober AF. Photographer. Storyteller. Writer.


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