How NOT to drink responsibly

Now, before writing this post I would like to say two things, the first being that I live in a country where the legal drinking age is 18 and therefore being 19 I can now legally do so. The second is that I do in no way support underage drinking and, nonetheless, this post will contain a lot of references to that.

I have never had a drinking problem, I really haven’t. I don’t know what it is that saved me from it, probably the fact that I find the flavour so utterly disgusting I have to force any drink down or maybe it’s knowing how many calories are in alcohol. Either way, I have recently developed a newfound relationship with alcohol.

It’s more of a non-relationship though and it works like this:

“Dear alcohol, I take meds which amplify your effect. Everytime I drink you I feel sick, do stupid things I regret and all in all you taste disgusting. Your calories are also sky-high, making you even more repulsing. I therefore would like to inform you that I no longer intend to ever interact with you and would ask you to do the same with me.”

It hasn’t always been this way. I have few drinking stories, but the ones I do have are devastating for two distinct reasons. Firstly, my age was ridiculously low. I’m talking 13/14 years old, NOT a good age to be drinking. Secondly, in all cases I ended up utterly wasted. Beyond point of embarrassment.

My problem has always been self-control after becoming tipsy. That is what brought me to drink 3 cups of vodka diluted in what I believed to be juice but actually turned out to have been switched and was actually just peach vodka (yes, I realise the stupidity of such choice and did not notice until I was told later). I then drank a couple of cups of sambuca after which I proceeded to being violently sick, thankfully regaining a tiny bit of lucidity when my parents came to pick me up (it was at a party at a friend’s house when 13) and to this day I can’t stand the flavour of anise.

Another mistake I have made is mixing benzodiazepines (prescription) with alcohol. When I was 14 I had just had a panic attack and had therefore taken some drops to calm myself. That evening there was a sailing retreat, with unlimited amount of beer and sangria. I didn’t realize the amplifying effect at the time and drank a few cups of wine: it was devastating. This brought on one of the most embarrassing moments in my life where none other than my father was called to pick me up (literally, I was lying on a table) and he practically had to carry me home.

The ultimate mistake, added to the last two, is devastating and what has really caused me problems, even when drinking small amounts: drinking on an empty stomach.

I am often on an empty stomach, me having an incredibly dysfunctional relationship with food (more about that in other posts) and it is impossible to drink when underweight and on an empty stomach. Two sips and you feel like you’ve downed a bottle of whiskey: you’re stomach is already killing you and threatening to start a revolution.

As you can observe, my decision not to drink comes from a lot of trial and error, but I can sum it up in one sentence: I don’t drink because I have realised I am too dysfunctional in doing so.

Dysfunctional Girl