The Buzz

There’s a part of me that still loves drinking alcoholic beverages. The thrill of planning the when, where, what and with who? I always drank alone, withdrawn and introverted. I realise that sounds contradictory, however despite being surrounded by people in public houses, bars, restaurants, I was essentially there to consume alcohol.

The illusion I felt was actually self deception and delusion. I would wake up with a motivational buzz that insisted music, delight and mirth. Fresh out of the shower, dressed in clean clothes, teeth brushed, intentions of making the most of the day ahead.

Heading into town I ran through my plans for the morning. Coffee, Americano, single seat and table at the back, maybe even a barstool in front of a mirror, the best company, company that doesn’t talk back. I buy newspapers, local and international. I browse blurays in a high street shop. I have a fry up in the cafe. Bacon, egg, sausage, black pudding, tomatoes, toast and cups of tea to wash it down. See how normal I am? Just a bloke, a man about town doing every day stuff.

Is it a reasonable hour to have a drink? There’s 24 hour licensing now. Who am I kidding? I drank 24/7 anyway. Keeping up appearances was important at that moment.

I always drank very quickly to begin with. The first three pints of stout wouldn’t touch the sides. The buzz was intense, confidence, check, personality, check, charisma, check, dont fuck with me cos I’m the man, check.

The obsession had been appeased but the floodgates had unleashed an insatiable urge to consume more and more. The buzz turned into a massive shit show every time I drank. I never just went home. The necessary visit to the off licence to purchase yet more alcohol was always a burden but it appeased the voice in my head questioning the consequences of not ensuring there was more when I awoke from this. Alcoholism is that urge to be able to continue to blackout and beyond. It’s executed damnation.

Maybe this binge lasted a week or two. Regret, sorrow and promised redemption would follow. Rattling in a perspiration soaked bed, aroused by the aroma of vomit and dread filled consciousness. Home detox was a regular event for me. The buzz had gone but I knew it would summon me again, enticing, beckoning, unmerciless.


Published by From Wretched to Recovery

Writing about my experience of alcoholism and recovery from addiction. The aftermath, the lessons learnt, the wisdom acquired, healing through gratitude, compassion and forgiveness.

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