I remember the first time I felt ashamed of my drinking.
It was 12 years ago. I had stopped at a convenience store after work for the second night in a row to buy beer and the girl at the counter called me out on it. I was so embarrassed. I remember telling her that it wasn't just for me (it wasn't) but I. Was. Pissed. She hit a nerve. And she made me worry.
Soon after that I did my first bit of internet research about what an alcoholic was. It made me raise my eyebrows, but that wasn't me. Not yet anyway. Up until that point I had always worn my tolerance like a badge of honor. "You've had three?! I've had six! Quick hold my beer, I'll do a kegstand" And that was just my twenties. Shit got real when I became a grown up and suddenly wine o clock was all I ever thought about anymore. I would continue to drink for another 11 years, watching my self progress more and more, and dealing with more shame than I could swallow. My insides felt like they were dying. My soul was disappearing. I was becoming terrified of myself.
After years of taking short breaks and moderating myself into misery, I had gotten to the point where moderation was laughable. I knew I had to stop. I had to cut the thing out. And for a while I couldn't. Until I did.
I want to share this with you, because of the others that shared with me. They helped me save myself. No more secrets. No more outside not matching inside. Just the truth that's left when the dust settles as the bird flies free. It's true what they say...our secrets keep us sick. Writing this here is about being free.