2129: Devil Drink: A Call for Help

Real Talk today. Serious business. And I’m probably going to regret writing this and making it so public, but I’m at my absolute wits’ end, don’t know what to do and could do with some support, be it from friends or strangers.

No names or anything will be given in this post, but some of you may be able to work certain things out from it. If you do, please do me a favour and don’t point anything like that out in the comments or say things to the people involved, because that’s just not going to help anything at all.

Anyway.

I don’t drink any more. I used to drink quite a lot when I was at university and the few years afterwards; I was somewhat legendary among a number of my friends for spectacular drunk text messages, with the mangled garbage that T9 predictive text would come out with being far more entertaining than the stuff AutoCorrect spews out from the iPhones and Androids of today. It was fun, though I never enjoyed the hangover the next day.

I stopped drinking for two real reasons: firstly, I’d got to the stage where I simply wasn’t enjoying it any more — alcohol tended to give me heartburn, and I came to the conclusion that being a bit wobbly and lary wasn’t enjoyable enough to justify feeling a bit sick after just a sip or two — and secondly, more importantly, it became apparent that someone in my life had a capital-P Problem with drink.

This wasn’t the first time I’d encountered someone with such an issue; a friend of mine at university suffered a similar affliction to quite a serious degree, though at the time, young and stupid as we were, it felt like something that should be laughed at rather than something that was a serious problem. More than ten years after that, though, I understand what a horrible, devastating thing alcoholism is, and how horrible it is to be in a position where you’re absolutely helpless to give any sort of aid to the person who is suffering so much they feel the need to take the pain away with excess amounts of drink.

The person in question had a problem for quite some time before seemingly resolving it. I tried several ways of dealing with it — with humour, with sadness, with anger, with disappointment, with honesty, with support, with attempts to engage and understand — but nothing seemed to be particularly effective. What actually happened is that over time, the person in question simply seemingly got over it, stopped drinking altogether and we said nothing more about it, though I always took care to steer clear of conversations that involved alcohol or being drunk or anything like that.

Recently, though, this person has suffered a bit of a relapse. It’s not to the same degree as it was before by any degree of magnitude, but it is happening again. And, once again, I feel completely helpless to do anything about it — perhaps because, if my past experience is anything to go by, there really isn’t anything I can do about it, and the person simply has to resolve it themselves.

This is upsetting and deeply, deeply distressing, though. It may sound selfish to make this about me, but I feel it’s important to note the impact of alcoholism on the people around the afflicted person as well as the afflicted person themselves. Because that impact can be devastating. It can have a huge impact on their mental wellbeing, and on the way they see the afflicted person. It can have a huge impact on the way they interact with the afflicted person, and the things they feel comfortable doing and talking about with the afflicted person. And it can impact on their life at large, preventing them from doing some things and forcing them to do others.

Ultimately it can build a great deal of resentment, frustration, anger and sadness — some of which is perhaps justified, but the rest of which is simply an impotent expression of fury at a sensation of powerlessness. I recognise this, and I would like to clarify that I certainly don’t hate the person involved for this by any means, particularly as I’m familiar with the extenuating circumstances that have brought this relapse on. Rather, I just want to feel like I can support them and help them through it once again, but I don’t know if I have the strength to handle it for a second time.

So that’s pretty much where I am right now. I don’t know what to do. I need help. Although I don’t know how anyone might be able to help, and I feel guilty writing this, given that I predict a significant proportion of you reading this will put two and two together quite quickly. As I say, though, if you do, please, just, shush. That part isn’t important.

Right now,  I am sad, upset and angry, and I need help. Please help.