“I feel it’s my anger that has helped keep me alive”   – Audre Lorde, Sister Love: The Letters of Audre Lorde & Pat Parker   

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Every movie, book, and TV show featuring an AA meeting has told me that. I’d always think to myself: “that seems so easy, I mean, how can they not see that they have a problem?” But, I get it now. I get it. Because admitting you have a problem means committing to recovery, and that means putting an end to the destructive coping mechanisms you’ve developed. 

I’ve always been a sucker for a quick feeling fixer. I like to smoke, I like to restrict, I like letting one person control my mood, and the best part is that I like to lie about all of it. But, the one thing I kept a death grip on was drinking. As it’s notoriously known for being the life of the party, alcohol helped me loosen up a bit. I’ve never felt more fun than when I was drinking, and I’ll always hold a soft spot in my heart for vodka. 

More recently, though, I seem to be holding a lot of anger. At who? I’m not too sure. Maybe I’m angry because I feel like I never got a chance to do the fun part, for lack of a better term. This frustration comes in questions yelled at the sky, scribbled in journals, asked to anyone who will listen. 

Where’s the intense pre-gaming and nights I’ll never forget? the life-of-the-party personality that everyone’s supposed to adore? the euphoria that a night of drinking brings?  

 The anger pokes holes in my weak spots. 

Do you even know if you’re an alcoholic or not? Isn’t it pathetic to be in recovery before you’re even legal? Every 18 year old likes to drink, stop being so fucking dramatic. 

She cries late at night when I’ve hit my breaking point. 

Why can’t I just stop? Why can’t it be different this time? Why do I always end up here? 

Nobody ever answers.  

 Not only does my anger plead, she also persuades. 

You don’t need to go to meetings. Who would even take you seriously there? and why should they?  

You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m being melodramatic and selfish and if I really wanted to stop drinking I would.

Exactly. But, you don’t. So you shouldn’t.

Okay, I won’t.

But, when I’m drunk, I remember. When I’m sober all I want is to be drinking, and when I’m drunk I wish I’d never started. No matter how many times I remind myself to make tonight the last, I always wake up in the morning wanting to do it all again. 

You don’t want to be in recovery. Even if you did, there’s nothing to recover from. 

That’s not true. 

It’s been way more fun than damaging. 

That’s definitely not true either. 

Next time it’ll be different. We have it under control now, we’ve learnt our lessons. 

Do you think so? 

Nobody sober ever has fun. 

Yes, they do. 

But you can’t. 

This may be true, but I can’t remember the last time I had fun while drunk. Correction: I have the time of my life for half an hour, and then it hits me. A black hole of hopelessness. She kicks me when I’m down and my anger is nowhere to be found. Right when I feel I need her most.

I’ve been running through this cycle for years now and it feels like I’ll never get out. Often it feels like I don’t want to get out, even though, deep down, I know I do. I’ve used alcohol as a way to cope, even when it was working against me. Even when everyone told me not to, including myself. I don’t know why I did it or why I continue to. Out of spite? Am I angry at the world for making drinking such a pain in the ass? And that’s why I do it anyways? Just to give a real “fuck you” to the universe? Seems like an immature — and frankly stupid — reason, so I’m inclined to say no. Drinking because I’m a fan of self-sabotage sounds better. Not a lot better, but a little. Any reason sounds good to my brain when I see vodka, if I’m being honest. 

It’s no wonder when I drink I want to be drunk forever; it’s because it’s the aftermath that I hate. You never have to deal with the consequences of your actions while you’re committing them. 

My anger is what stunts me, but she also keeps me going. I’m angry that I haven’t been able to go more than 38 days without drinking and I’m angry that I even have to go the 38 days at all. I’m just angry. 

Maybe my disappointment will one day overpower my anger. Maybe my desire to do better by the people I love will commit me to recovery. Maybe one day I’ll finally have this figured out.  

Maybe, one day, I’ll admit I have a problem. It’s hard to walk the yellow brick road if you can’t even take the first step.  

At least that’s what the movies told me.