OK. Here is my alcohol story (no one is obliged to read it, of course)
Family background: middle-class boozy. No alcohol consumed on weeknights; wine or beer as a treat for my parents at weekends. Always a big part of family gatherings, for them. I never saw my parents stumbling or slurring or obviously hungover, but I often saw them laughing loudly and being mildly hilarious.
Dad a bit of a wine connoisseur.
I remember as a child my father moaning about a friend who had cut back and refused to taste every wine, and put his hand over the glass when one was offered. It was felt that he wasn't playing the game. I don't know why I remembered this, but it stayed with me.
I had a lot of emotional problems as a child. No one was interested. I was not badly treated but pretty badly let down, in some ways.
I used to be allowed small sips of wine from, probably, 14. Alcohol was not hidden. Had I wanted to I could have drunk spirits from the cabinet any time. It never occurred to me to drink more than I was given. But I did absolutely love it.
I think I was 15 the first time I bought alcohol (only now does it occur to me that I could have stolen it, not bought it. Never crossed my mind.) I was deeply pissed off. It was a really hard time for me but I don't remember the particular trigger. I remember being very angry and very very emotionally uncomfortable. I bought 2 cans of guinness, I do not remember whether I went out to get them, it is more likely I got them on my way home from school, I can't remember how premeditated it was but I do remember being petrified with nerves at buying it and flooded with relief that I got away with it. (Was I in school uniform? How did that work?) I sat on the floor in my favourite corner in the sun in my bedroom and drank them both, out of the can, with my arm holding the can behind the bookcase to my right so that only when I quickly swigged was it in view, in case anyone walked in (people usually knocked, then walked in). I felt calm and peaceful and warm and serene. Not falling about drunk, remotely, but much much better. I stashed the empty cans behind the bookcase and cleaned my teeth and went downstairs for dinner.
I did that again. Not that often, but I knew that the option was there.
My friends and I started to drink occasionally. At first I didn't drink any more than anyone else. I never wanted to be the drunk girl at the party. I enjoyed it but I was cautious.
One night, my 3 best girl friends (it was an incredible revelation to me to have friends and I was intensely, insanely happy to have some affection and company in my life) came over to have dinner and sleep over and my mum gave us a bottle of cider. We had arranged at least another big bottle that she didn't know about. We got very silly and affectionate and fell asleep in one big double bed and it was the happiest night of my life. Booze was a big part of it. We were happy and uninhibited and I had never felt so loved, so understood, so accepted - at the centre of something, not out in the cold.
I am going to post this now and write more later.