Columns

My Weekly Battle With Alcoholism

9e1af3fa19ffbd2e21a39cd6f3d5dd31_vice_630x420

I have a bipolar relationship with alcohol. Even a “love/hate” tag would not do my feelings about alcohol justice. Here is a diary of one brave man’s struggle.

Sunday Night

Sunday night is my rock bottom. On Sunday night, I swear off alcohol. A life of sobriety is my new calling. I am utterly exhausted, and I know I have a long, looming week ahead of me. I fight withdrawal and anxiety, and I fight an extensive knockout fight with dehydration. Sunday night I do not sleep, because three days of binge drinking gave me the gift of insomnia.

Monday

My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m., and I emphatically hit snooze–I just fell asleep two hours ago. I arrive to work 20 minutes late, feeling like absolute garbage. Monday is painful; Monday tests my will to live. I check my finances, and see yet again that a weekend of drinking in New York City has done vile things to my already precariously low balance. My resolve for a life of sobriety is strong, and it feels good being a changed man. Despite being exhausted, this newly discovered sobriety gives me some motivation to go to the gym. I labor through a workout.

Tuesday

My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m. and I hit snooze–slightly less emphatically, mind you. I slept well last night. I arrive to work on time, feeling like an average person. Today, I actually get some work done. As a person who has 48 hours under his belt as a sober, healthy person, I am excited to go to the gym after work. I go to the gym and I get in a good workout. This feels great, and I realize I love this new lifestyle.

Wednesday

My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m. and I hit snooze. (I am sober, I am not Jesus.) I even arrive to work 10 minutes early, and feel as if it’s my day to climb the treacherous corporate ladder. My supervisor assigns me a lengthy report. I do not procrastinate. I bang out the report and give it a 100 percent effort. I go to the gym and seemingly have the best work out of my life. Now that I am sober, I think I should begin training for a marathon. Alcohol is no longer part of my life–it’s a distant memory.

Thursday

My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m. and I DO NOT hit snooze. I arrive to work 15 minutes late because I got distracted by a rerun of the “Fresh Prince.” My buddy texts me about going to our favorite happy hour spot. I ignore his text, because I am going to the gym tonight. I am sober, and marathons do not run themselves. However, I think to myself, “damn a beer sounds lovely.” My boss emails me saying he didn’t need the report I slaved over yesterday after all. Fuck him and fuck this job. I text my buddy back saying, “Down for happy hour, only going to have a couple brews though, nothing like last week haha.” I go to happy hour. I have my few beers and I am ready to leave. But then somebody buys a round of shots.

Friday

My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m. and I DO NOT hit snooze. Instead, I sleep right through my alarm. I wake up at 8:23 a.m. in a panic. How much did I drink last night? When did I get home? Fuck that asshole who bought the round of shots! I throw on a wrinkled shirt, brush my teeth, and run out of the apartment wreaking of Fireball. I get to work 20 minutes late. Surprisingly, I feel pretty good. Today will be okay. This is a lie, a Friday morning oasis. I realize I am still drunk, and I dread the remainder of the day. 11:20 a.m. hits and I want to puke on my laptop. I get nothing done all day. I cannot wait to leave work and recover. Finally, Its 5:30 p.m., and it’s time to go. I go home, take a quick nap, and feel brand new when I wake up. It is Friday night, and as much as I want to stay sober, what does a single postgrad do if he’s not drinking on a Friday night? I am not a recluse. I want to stay sober, but I need to go out and mingle with my peers. Unfortunately, I cannot go out sober–that really isn’t an option. People who soberly go to bars and have fun are serial killers, plain and simple. I say I will take it easy, but I brown out Friday night.

Saturday

Saturday I sleep in, and then I do a half-assed workout at the gym. I think to myself, “This is the only truly great day of the week–I didn’t have to work today, and I don’t have work tomorrow.” There is no internal debate tonight. I am going to the bars, and I am getting drunk with my friends. I black out Saturday night.

Sunday

Fuck me. This time is for real–no more games. I am taking my sobriety seriously this time.

Email this to a friend

9 Comments You must log in to comment, or create an account
Show Comments

For More Photos and Content

Latest podcasts

Download Our App

Take PGP with you. Get

New Stories

Load More