Throughout my life, I have had many experiences with alcohol. Since I was about ten there was a glass of Buck’s Fizz at Christmas dinner and another shortly after at Hogmanay. I didn’t get whisky until I had a toothache at 15 and my dad was high on painkillers and told me to. I actually used whisky to get through a recent bout of tonsillitis. However, until I was about 15 my booze was limited to Christmas and Hogmanay and only a little glass here and there. When I was 16 I went to college and I would go drinking with friends. Nothing major, a beer here and there in the few pubs that forgot to ask for ID after they’d IDed everyone else. When I came to France I had neither means nor motivation to get drunk so I forgot about it. I really do mean I forgot, I didn’t think of alcohol at all. When I started making friends who drank I’d have the social pint or three.
When the rape happened that all changed. I knew while living in the UK I could drink to numb physical pain and forget emotional pain. So while living with my rapist the drinking alone started. I don’t think it was conscious and knowing what I do about psychology I know the brain craves endorphins that are released by alcohol consumption. I can see where it came from and how it happened. The only positive thing I had in that shared house was the booze, and maybe the Camembert a friend from church gave me on a semi-regular basis. If I detach myself from my case and look at it from a professional point of view it’s not surprising. Then when I finally got out of the shared house into my own flat I was free to do what I liked and I was in little to no danger. To start with I didn’t drink much. I guess I was happy to be free so I wasn’t thinking about what had happened. It didn’t last long though, I started drinking a half bottle of off-brand martini a day, then a whole bottle on the condition that I wasn’t working the following morning. That meant four days a week I could drink in excess. Working part-time in the afternoons was good. I liked church so much I wouldn’t have risked missing it because of alcohol. This carried on through various Tinder flings and is still ongoing. The psychologist I saw after the rape said I shouldn’t stop drinking suddenly. I did two days to prove I could, now I’m back to my regular schedule of two or three whiskys before bed. Only this time I have a martini. Is 1am too early for a throwback Thursday?
I am drunk while typing this. My relationship with alcohol got worse after I was raped before then I was a social drinker who only drinking from time to time. Now my partner as to see me drink most days because it’s what I do. He doesn’t know I have this blog, he thinks I am playing the Sims 4. I’ve also been battling the urge to self-harm for the last couple of weeks. I miss it. I don’t know how to explain it but I miss seeing the blade cut through my skin and the moment before the drops of blood appear. The divide was strangely satisfying and watching the blood drip was calming. As depressed as I was in 2010 sometimes I wish I could go back because things were so simple compared to now. Smartphones were barely a thing, you could have a video open on YouTube and cut the WiFi and play it 57 times over. The Sims 3 had two expansions and they were easy to pirate. The future seemed hopeful.
I am okay, I couldn’t risk it now because of work and my partner, it would not be fair to put him through that and everything else he has suffered with me.