Alcohol: It’s not how much we drink, it’s why we drink.
My earliest memory of tasting alcohol is from when I was 12 years old. My friend Bittu and I were running around her house when we stumbled upon a pile of trash that her dad had kept aside. In that pile, we saw two empty yet glamorous bottles with a bit of a golden liquid left over at the bottom. We had seen adults consume this liquid and then become a bit more cheery than normal every time, so we decided to give it a ‘shot’. We opened the cap, and it smelled like expensive fruit juice. I remember salivating. We both tried a few drops of it. My mouth immediately got dry — like all the saliva in my mouth had receded in horror upon meeting this strange, unwelcome guest. It was the grossest thing I had ever tasted, and I had powered through some lethal cough syrups by that time.
My saliva and alcohol didn’t meet again till I was 18. I lived in Goa for a couple of months for a summer internship. Goa, being a party beach town, was intoxicating. The liquor was cheaper there than anywhere else in India. I was living with friends who were cool — who drank and smoked, listened to cool songs, and did things that had always scared me. I wanted to belong to that group because the only other option seemed to go back to a life of fear, rules and conformity.
In those 2 months, I sampled all kinds of liquors — from the local cashew ‘feni’ to the expensive Teachers single malt. My body resisted and rebelled against this abuse every time as I would bite my tongue at the abhorring taste of cheap rum, throw up later that night and have the morning hangovers that made the idea of death seem like the first kiss.
Eventually, my body got used to the abuse as soothing my nerves took priority.
I now sit here at 35 - not quite an alcoholic. But I have noticed that I love beer way too much. I have about 4–8 beers a week, and it seems way below the german average. But it’s been affecting my sleep. I had 2 beers yesterday because it was a Friday, even though I haven’t worked full-time in 13 months.
I had the beers to calm my nerves, as they screamed at my horror of not having worked for or towards something meaningful in a long time. I had 2 glasses of wine 2 nights ago for similar reasons. It is much easier when there’s someone else drinking as well — in this case, it was my girlfriend. But it can be any group of friends or coworkers to get me going. It gets me on the same page as them. Who wants to be a party pooper and talk about nerves, when the group wants to ‘have a good time’?
I have told myself consistently that alcohol is essential to having a good time. I have told myself that if I worked out, meditated, journaled, and drank enough water, I could be saved from the ill effects of alcohol. I have told myself that my nerves need to be calmed down. I am scared of nerves. They scream at me for change. And change is exhausting. Constant change is constantly scary, and I crave relief. And I react to that craving by reaching for that bottle opener. Can I just let myself be soaked in fear without reacting? Without running away? What happens then? And who will I find?
