8

What it’s like to be a 22 year old alcoholic

so-sober

Me at my 20th Birthday party…before I passed out on the sofa

“My name’s Kathy and I’m an alcoholic.”

Those were the words I thought I’d never be able to admit to myself.

But sitting in a dank and dreary church hall I found myself saying them to a dozen complete strangers.

This was the first step in my recovery.

I have now been sober for 17 days and feel happier than I have in months.

That’s 17 hangover free days, 17 days of not feeling sick or embarrassed or ashamed, 17 days of mental clarity, 17 days of thinking positively, 17 days of the rest of my life.

I’m not going to pretend that it’s been easy though.

It’s been so tempting just to have a sip of someone’s drink when it’s been offered to me, so tempting just to have one or two when I’ve been out with friends and everyone around me is getting loose and merry.

But my problem is that I could never just stop at one or two drinks.

I could never be content with feeling tipsy and most nights out would always descend into the oblivion of a blackout.

That’s what makes me an alcoholic.

When I went to my first Alcoholics’ Anonymous meeting I wasn’t yet sure if I was an alcoholic, or rather I didn’t want to admit it.

In my view giving myself the label of “alcoholic” would be hitting rock bottom.

But the truth was I’d already hit rock bottom long ago and then proceeded to plateau on the lower slopes for a while.

In the end admitting that I was an alcoholic wasn’t any scarier than anything I’d already been through due to alcohol and it was what has enabled me to take that first step on the ladder to spiritual recovery.

When you’re in your twenties most people turn a blind eye to your alcohol abuse since they think you’re just going through that “party phase” and are exercising a right to be young, wild and free.

But behind the laughter and the slurring of words there is often a deeper, darker expression of pain which no amount of wine or beer can hide.

It was when I woke up in hospital after falling over and suffering a concussion that I decided enough was enough.

I’d had enough of not remembering , enough of hearing second-hand about my drunken exploits, of being overcome with regret and shame, of putting myself in a position where I was vulnerable enough to be manipulated and abused, of having too many close calls and too many near misses.

It was time for a change.

I’m not going to be that crazy party girl anymore but that’s not really who I am anyway.

I’m a fun-loving extrovert, a journalist and writer, a dreamer, traveller, artist and musician and I don’t need alcohol to be any of these things.

Having suffered from depression and anxiety I have now had the epiphany that I also suffer from alcoholism – possibly the most deadly mental illness of all.

I say this because alcohol itself is a depressant so using it to cope with your problems is just a vicious cycle which will only ever make things worse.

It’s also too easy to hide.

Most girls my age go out and binge drink on the weekends, they fall over, they swear, they maybe have one or two more than they should but few people would consider that they could be alcoholics.

But that’s the thing about alcoholism.

It isn’t ageist or sexist, it doesn’t matter if you drink alone or with friends, if you get drunk every day or just binge on the weekends, if you do it at home or in a club.

There’s more than one way to be an alcoholic.

As someone who’s never been able to say no to a drink I’m looking forward to saying yes to a life of abstinence.

It doesn’t make me boring or dull but rather allows me to be me without the oppressive chains of an illness over which I have no control.

So the next time you’re egging your friend on to do a shot or drink up, or get another round in, just pause to consider if it’s really the best thing for them.

Alcohol is fine in moderation.

But for people like me it’s a curse.

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A day in the life of a final year languages student

These days I rarely get a chance to update my blog. In fact sometimes I forget I even have one until I tack it on to the end of my list of hobbies which I indulge in when I probably should be doing other things like reading about post-feminist film theory. Anyway, it occurred to me that even though the tagline of my blog is “the musings of a languages student” I’ve never actually done any sort of post which makes reference to studying languages or just being a student in general. So, here’s what a day in the life of a University of Exeter finalist is like…

8.00 am

Wake up and turn off annoying vintage style alarm clock.

8.15 am

Get up when proper phone alarm goes off.

8.30 am

Have breakfast: Weetabix with almond milk, pumpkin seeds and banana since I’m no longer just content that I’m saving the lives of enough animals by simply being vegetarian – veganism seems to be the ultimate ethical lifestyle.

9.00 am 

Walk/run to campus because I never seem to leave exactly on time.

9.35 am 

Enter Italian oral class flustered and sweaty from jogging up the hill and also because Devon has a weird humid climate even in January.

11.00 am

Head to the library to study and somehow seem to spend an hour doing nothing at all.

12.00 noon

Write an article about an anti-social seagull

13.00 pm

After waiting in a queue for quite a while I get a delicious wrap from a place on campus which is called “Comida” even though it has no connection to Spain/Spanish.

14.40 pm

Whilst being pensive during a French translation class I realise that I have a chin hair – merde.

15.30 pm

Decide to troll the student forum for Grad ball theme ideas by posting – “Cats cats cats – a party where everyone is a cat.”

16.00 pm

Read about post-feminism in the media

17.30 pm

Make dinner and face derision from housemates who snigger at my love for mushy peas and Linda McCartney sausages.

18.00 pm

Agree to going out even though I know I have to be up early tomorrow and I have lots of work to do.

21.00 pm

Go out on the premise that I will have one drink and one drink alone.

21.30 pm

I’ve had 4 drinks because it didn’t make sense not to benefit from the 2-4-1 cocktails deal.

22.00 pm

Dance in a club during a beats n bass night and feel that my arms are working independently to the rest of my body.

23.00 pm

Have a drunk conversation about life after university and plunge into a temporary existential crisis.

00.00 midnight

Walk home and take solace in the fact that there are many people much drunker than I am eg. a Rugby boy in a pink tutu

1 am

Debate whether or not to get chips

1.15 am

Get chips

2 am

Read e-mails and realise that I’ve got a place on a journalism course starting in September!

2.30 am

Lie awake with nervous excitement

3.30 am

Fall into a deep sleep filled with dreams about cats in formal wear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2

Brief Encounters

Me with friends at Uni

Me with friends at Uni

“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.”- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Whilst reading a Charles Dickens classic I was profoundly touched by these words. Through traveling and visiting new places I’ve met some wonderful people and had some great conversations with complete strangers; people who until I bravely took the plunge and introduced myself to were indeed a “profound secret and mystery.” It’s one thing to people watch from a café or bar and imagine the lives which they lead in but it’s another thing entirely to actually delve into the unknown and discover the reality. It’s true that as human beings we instinctively have a fear of the unknown. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t know how to be vigilant when visiting somewhere new, to keep our wits about us and to exercise caution. However, sometimes that same fear can hold us back and prevent us from meeting new people or opening ourselves up to new experiences.

In Zaragoza I have visited an Irish Pub called Flagherty’s a few times and each time I have gone there in the hope of meeting some fellow Irish people. In order to do this however I had to change my mindset and stop viewing myself as “that loner girl who’s drinking a Guinness at the bar by herself” to “that girl who has the confidence to sit at a bar by herself.”

Ironically the first time I went there I met a lovely Spanish woman and ending up chatting to her at length about Federico Garcia Lorca (a Spanish poet and playwright I studied at Uni) his works, the themes in his plays and Spanish culture in general. I can’t remember how the conversation started (as is often the case in such brief encounters) but I returned home feeling that rush of joy which only happens on occasions when you realise how lucky you are to be alive and human. It wasn’t just because I’d unexpectedly discovered someone with common interests but because I had reached out to a stranger and thus realised that the world is full of kindred spirits; I just haven’t met them yet.

On another occasion I met an American and an Irish man (finally) who were staying in Zaragoza for a few days because they worked for Emirates airlines. We got chatting because I assisted in ordering the American a rum and coke (ron y coca cola) and the Irish man jokingly chastised me for having a Guinness claiming it was a sin to drink it in any other city than Dublin. I enjoyed hearing about their travels but also giving them some suggestions about where to visit in Zaragoza and how to make the most of their time here. It felt good to be somewhat of an authority on a city I previously hadn’t even heard of (Google maps is my salvation) and in some ways it seemed as though things had come full circle-  My time here is coming to an end but theirs is just beginning. Maybe this is what fate is; a series of chance encounters that although we don’t know it, somehow fit perfectly into the circle of life and are meant to be.

For this post I chose to include a black and white photo of some friends and I because it reminded me of the 1946 film “Brief encounter” as well as the role fate plays when we make new acquaintances. There is a saying that “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” and the same I believe can be applied to any casual and brief encounters with  a stranger be it romantic or otherwise. Surely it’s better to have had an enthralling and eye opening conversation with someone and then never see them again than to have just sat beside them in silence?

My favourite part of the film “Brief Encounter” is when Alec laments upon the fact that he can’t be with Laura. He says “Forgive me…for everything, for meeting you in the first place, for taking a piece of grit out of your eye.” I think he got it wrong though. Instead of apologising to Laura he should have been thanking her. If they’d never met in the first place they would never have created so many wonderful memories and their meeting was clearly destined to be. It’s crazy to imagine that something so insignificant as a piece of grit could completely change the course of our lives. In the same way if I’d ticked a different box on my uni application from I would be living a completely different life and all of my current friends would be anonymous strangers…..strangers just waiting to be discovered in an Irish bar somewhere.

I would encourage anyone to pursue their own brief encounters. You never know what you could learn about another person, the world or even yourself. After all the truth is often stranger than fiction.