Having a cold glass of cider/wine/lager/g&t (delete/add as appropriate) on the five or so days of summer we've had is heavenly. Getting obliterated, not so much. So why can't we just say no, kids?
It's no secret that some people with enduring mental health problems self-medicate with drink and drugs. Sometimes we need a little something to take the edge off a bad day, but drinking on bad days can lead to bad things. Like overdoses: I was drunk before every one of mine. Because that's the thing, alcohol isn't a stimulant; it depresses brain function. One or two cheeky shandies, no probs. Binge drinking? Probs.
Long-term heavy drinking actually changes the chemistry and psychology of the brain, reducing its ability to deal with anxiety naturally. It depletes serotonin, meaning you feel more depressed and more likely to drink more in order to deal with the slump. And as if by magic, a vicious circle is created.
I was, at one time in my life, called an alcoholic by a therapist. She was a bitch, mind you. And there was no way she was getting me listed as a 'dual-diagnosis' patient (meaning you have a substance abuse problem alongside your mental health issues). I'm not in denial when I say I'm most definitely not an alcoholic. I would however admit to having had an emotional dependency on it at certain junctures when I was younger. My best friend and I both had shit going on at one time, and we turned to one another, and the bottle, for help. We'd get through 6, maybe even sometimes 8 bottles of the cheap 2 for £5 corner shop wines that tasted like vinegar and probably rotted your stomach in one sitting. And I'd do the same when out with my then boyfriend. Only, the more it happened, the more the cracks started to appear. Mainly these involved me getting sad, then angry, then sad again, and this boyfriend had to put up with an awful lot of shit from me when I'd had a skinful and was raging at the world, him, and myself.
A sure sign that your self-medicating is going too far is when you wake up, realise the night previous is a black hole, and have to text friends or call your fella and ask if you pissed anyone off or did anything outrageous when tanked up to your eyeballs. Memory loss, dear void, is bad.
Now, I don't drink like that anymore and haven't in years, but just recently there have been a spate of parties where everyone has been slugging it back, and in the process, I've woken up with a black hole again. Luckily I haven't been sleep walking in my nightdress through a hotel (this actually happened to me once) or starting world war three amongst my friends, but cringing and having to ask the F if I'd made a tit of myself brought back many an unpleasant and shame-inducing memory from years passed.
Moderation, dear void, moderation's what we need...
Do you self-medicate?
Long-term heavy drinking actually changes the chemistry and psychology of the brain, reducing its ability to deal with anxiety naturally. It depletes serotonin, meaning you feel more depressed and more likely to drink more in order to deal with the slump. And as if by magic, a vicious circle is created.
I was, at one time in my life, called an alcoholic by a therapist. She was a bitch, mind you. And there was no way she was getting me listed as a 'dual-diagnosis' patient (meaning you have a substance abuse problem alongside your mental health issues). I'm not in denial when I say I'm most definitely not an alcoholic. I would however admit to having had an emotional dependency on it at certain junctures when I was younger. My best friend and I both had shit going on at one time, and we turned to one another, and the bottle, for help. We'd get through 6, maybe even sometimes 8 bottles of the cheap 2 for £5 corner shop wines that tasted like vinegar and probably rotted your stomach in one sitting. And I'd do the same when out with my then boyfriend. Only, the more it happened, the more the cracks started to appear. Mainly these involved me getting sad, then angry, then sad again, and this boyfriend had to put up with an awful lot of shit from me when I'd had a skinful and was raging at the world, him, and myself.
A sure sign that your self-medicating is going too far is when you wake up, realise the night previous is a black hole, and have to text friends or call your fella and ask if you pissed anyone off or did anything outrageous when tanked up to your eyeballs. Memory loss, dear void, is bad.
Now, I don't drink like that anymore and haven't in years, but just recently there have been a spate of parties where everyone has been slugging it back, and in the process, I've woken up with a black hole again. Luckily I haven't been sleep walking in my nightdress through a hotel (this actually happened to me once) or starting world war three amongst my friends, but cringing and having to ask the F if I'd made a tit of myself brought back many an unpleasant and shame-inducing memory from years passed.
Moderation, dear void, moderation's what we need...
Do you self-medicate?
I've never been much of a drinker, and I pretty much stopped altogether to aid my recovery. I don't miss it. at all. I stopped drinking vodka because I'd end up in a crying heap, and at one point it got a lot worse than that. More on that in a future post!
ReplyDeleteNow, I'll have the smallest glass of cider (and even then can't finish it) or a small rum in coke. I love me some spiced rum!
I guess I used to eat a lot of comfort food a while ago.
I was also thinking about writing a post on alcohol hehe. great minds think alike! hehe :)
I think drinking has been my only major vice, its tempered now by a combination of growing older and having stuff in my life that is special which I don't want to tarnish with that crap!
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