Warning!
Long, very unfunny post ahead.

Several years ago, I began to have troubles with depression. Whilst I was at University I was (mostly) able to stay on top of it, but after I graduated I plunged head-first into full on despair.

I was not really equiped or ready to deal with it, so I did what many a depressed person before me has done, and heavily self-medicated (or, to put it in real terms, drank myself into oblivion at every given oppertunity). This was exasserbated by the fact that I worked in an off-licence (or liquor store, depending on your nationality).

I became very adept at hiding what I was doing. I would travel from pub to pub, only having one or two drinks in each one. I would always have a book, so that I wouldn't just be sitting there (I also had a notebook, and some of what I wrote in there simply terrifies me). I was spending hundreds of pounds - pounds I couldn't afford - a month on booze, and managed to max out my credit card (they actually reduced my limit because I wasn't able to pay it off). I would miss rent payments, bills, everything, because I had spent all my money on liquid death.

I also became very good at stealing from work. I probably averaged one or two stolen bottles a week, and it was never pinned on me.

What I did during this period, I simply do not know. Whole months of my memory are missing, as I would wake up hungover - usually in my clothes - at one or two in the afternoon and head off to work, have a couple of drinks there (yup, couldn't even last a couple of hours), then when I closed head off to the nearest boozer. There are people who know me from this period - I have no idea who they are. There are people who hate me for crimes against them I have no memory of committing. I alienated friends by repeatedly phoning at 3am, and then making no sense as I slurred gibberish over and over. If I was working a morning shift, it was about a 50/50 chance that I would sleep in and not open the shop. It's a miracle I wasn't fired.

Oh, and it made me physically disgusting - not washing, not washing my rather long and very greasy hair, not brushing my teeth, pissing myself, shitting myself once or twice.

This lasted about a year.

Then, one evening that I recall surprisingly clearly, I found myself on a rooftop, and the only reason I didn't jump off was that it was not high enough to finish me off.

That memory terrified me in the morning, so I called my doctor (three years later than I should have) and began the long process of straightening myself out.

Which I have, more or less. I am no longer in therapy, no longer on medication. I am still, however, in a serious pile of financial poo.

I don't drink nearly so much as I did, now. However, I still drink a lot, lot more than I should. Every now and then it just digs away in the back of my mind - smokers will recognise the urge, the desperate need, and nothing will put it off, nothing at all. I still give in sometimes, and buy myself a bottle or two of wine when I am in the house alone. I have to watch myself when I am out socially, as I am pathalogically unable to just have one or two. Once I've started, if I am not incredibly careful, I will be bounding for the finish line like Sebastian Coe.

It says something about me that I no longer notice hangovers, unless they are killer, in which case I may just moan once or twice.

I am trying. I am really trying to stop this. I am getting better at it, gradually. I think, in particular, health concerns are the biggest factor. But it's always there, the unceasing voice in the back of my head: "Go on, you know you'll like it. You'll feel better. Just one, to relax you. Go on..."

I don't know if it's ever going to leave, and that scares me to death.
(HarryTheMole whatever's on my finger is going in your mouth, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:07, 10 replies)

Irvine Welsh
Famous author of Trainspotting and associated books.

He says the best way to beat addiction is a blockbuster subscription. Then when you get the urge you get yourself a film, bag of Doritoes and assorted junk food, shut the door and curtains and immerse yourself in a film.

Haven't tried it myself but.... er.. there you are ;) Good luck
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:19, closed)

Blimey
No real sarcastic b3ta comment, just:
a: fucking hell that sounds pretty awful
b: good work coming back from the brink and good luck for the rest of the journey
and:
c: thanks for sharing
(ManekiNeko loves horses, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:31, closed)

I'm with you on this one Harry
I kicked the drugs 5 years ago : suprisingly easy to do.

I kicked Smoking about 2 years ago : fuck me that was hard,very hard. But I got clear.

But the drinking ... man that is hard to stop isn't it. The hardest of all. It can be done though. The fact I am still alive is proof :)

Best of luck!
( RadG Drinking Mojitos in the sun, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:42, closed)

Wow
Been there, done that, am trying not to go there again.

Gaz me if you want to talk.

If I was Oprah I would be saying 'I feel your pain'.

If I was Jeremy Kyle I would be...well...I would be a cunt actually.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:55, closed)

I sorta skipped to the end
So you are addicted to hangovers or something?




Sorry mate, I hope you sort it out.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 13:08, closed)

Urgh
Every now and then it just digs away in the back of my mind - smokers will recognise the urge, the desperate need, and nothing will put it off, nothing at all.

This is how I feel about food. I'm not hungry; I just WANT it.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 14:15, closed)

Freaky how much of that is shudderingly recognisable
I am sitting here now trying to persuade myself not to nip out for that bottle of vodka I crave.

I hide the empties in all sorts of places so the mrs doesn't find them until I can clear them out on a Thursday night while she is at work.

The biggest worry is a bottle of vodka barely even gets me merry now...
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 15:31, closed)

Yeah, tolerance...
...kind of makes it worse, doesn't it? Just makes you have more and more, and that builds up your tolerance, so then you have more and more and more, and the whole dirty cycle continues.

And empties. Shit. I'm a single guy, so I don't have that incentive to get rid of them. I'm moving out soon. I'm going to be trekking back and forth between my room and the bottle bank for half a day...
(HarryTheMole whatever's on my finger is going in your mouth, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 20:27, closed)

I wonder if you are who I think you are?
Are you in oz?

Cos I might know your missus, and she might already know.

And if it is you, pity she's such a bitch and you and I can't drink together anymore.
(Angie the Redneck Wonder, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 5:28, closed)

been there
Hey Harry, I have also almost jumped from a rooftop but didn't for same reasons as you. Have woken up in jail. That was the end of my crazed drinking. I did dry out for four years. It's hard, but possible. I hope you have some supportive people in your life that you can trust. A lot of shame goes along with this particular brand of self-destruct. I have been back on the piss myself for a few months now, but it's not compulsive for me anymore, just about fun. Still, I watch myself.

You might try to think about what's behind this for you - is it just chemical, or is there some sort of emotional plane that you are trying to access through drink. Whatever you do, be careful. Drink at home where your access is limited. Feel free to send me a message at any time. I will be thinking of you.
( cackers, Sun 21 Dec 2008, 22:05, closed)