Glad you felt better when not drinking - you have something to compare it to.
Here is stage 2 of my drinking story:
When I went to university I had had a tiny number of hangovers and drinking didn't seem to me to be anything remotely to worry about. Not drinking in the evening (or any time) was much more a habit than drinking. but I did enjoy it.
At college I struggled. I really panicked. I think looking back I had serious problems with anxiety and depression. I can remember lying in bed panicking so hard I was thinking about suicide; other times lying in bed, knowing I was late for something that was happening right now, with tears rolling down my face.
I wanted to make friends but I didn't know how.
I had lost my faith years ago and with no one watching me did not go to Mass any more. I didn't join the chapel choir because it didn't occur to me to go to C of E services. I got in with a group of people who appeared to drink a lot and appeared to smoke a lot of dope (but actually looking back it is clear that many of them were very disciplined about when and how much, and actually did very well)
I was so anxious all the time I had no idea how to make the most of any opportunities. I glued myself to my friends in the bar. I did not know how to be alone. As a result I hardly knew how to do any work. A lot of people thought I was very cool. ha ha ha ha.
I met a man (he was a mature student, not old, 23, but he seemed grown up to me). he was clever and funny and sensitive and had fiendish mental health problems. I was insanely in love with him. I felt sick with love. He was the most handsome man in the world. To this day it blows my mind that I got anywhere near someone so unbelievably handsome. He could be very quiet and intimidating. The more withdrawn he was the more I would hang around him waiting for him to be warm and sweet again.
I drank and smoked constantly.
At Easter my sister took me on a short walking holiday and you could not drink or smoke in the youth hostel. In the evenings, after good healthy exercise, I drank tea and worked through a course book from a course that I had totally neglected for months. I learnt it all in 3 or 4 sober evenings and that summer I got a First in that subject and did well in the rest. Overall I got a 2:1 for the year. I seemed to be getting away with things.
I couldn't see that the reason I had managed it was because I had had that sober break with no drinking or smoking and I was feeling secure enough to work, for the first time all year, in the youth hostel with my sister. I didn't feel alone and I was able to concentrate. I didn't see what this meant about how I had to manage my life to have more of those times. I had no idea how to.
I was brought up religious but I was taught nothing about how to look after myself spiritually, (or emotionally or mentally - even physical health was considered a bit declasse by my dad who thought we did too much PE at school). Socially? Ha - having friends was actively disapproved of. I had no idea how to look after myself, even that it was allowed to have my needs met. I needed to learn relaxation techniques; I need to build some exercise into my life; I needed to address the issue of my faith instead of running away from it; I needed a social network and some study buddies; I actually think I needed a proper professional to talk to as well. Instead, I drank and smoked, drank and smoked, drank and smoked.
I actually felt so bad so much of the time I couldn't even see how bad I felt. I had nothing to compare it to. I assumed everyone felt like that and covered up well. Maybe many of them did - I went to a university where people did commit suicide. I knew three suicides at university. we were not looked after. It did not occur to me to try to talk to someone about any of this. It literally did not occur to me.
Something terrible happened in my third year that I do not want to write here. (It was not sexual abuse of any kind.) I lost my mind and forgot how to write. I saw my hand trying to write on the page and couldn't do it. My cousin told me to try to get help or at least get out of the exams. I couldn't do it. I could not actually talk to anyone. I didn't know how to start. I took the exams, got a third, and went home to my parents for a short time before leaving to stay with a friend in London with no money, no job, shit qualifications. It was a nasty leaving. I fell out with my mum the night before I left and was not speaking to her. I can't remember why. I am sure I was a massive pain the arse.
When the bad thing happened, in the holidays after, I played the piano at home for hours on end. I could do nothing else. I sat and played and played and my tears fell on the keyboard and when I was playing I was not hurting myself. My mother came in and asked me why I was crying and was angry with me. She knew about the bad thing. I couldn't understand what she expected me to say to "why". She was always angry with me for feeling bad.
I don't mind if anyone is reading this or not. I am not going to write any more just now.
I hope you are all having a good night and are curled up somewhere warm with someone nice and your entertainment of choice x