Your friends at Jack Daniels remind you to drink responsibly

(leaflet in the package of a hipflask)

Nothing against my friends at Jack Daniels (although their booze is terrible), but if you have gotten to the point of using a hipflask, you have long moved beyond the point of drinking responsibly.

But then, that’s not news to me. I just bought one the other day, heh.
It was an impulse buy, because maybe I like the idea of whenever I'm stuck out in the cold somewhere, I have some warming booze handy.
On the other hand, that is quite worrying, isn't it? I've been worrying about the booze intake for a while. Maybe I'm a hypochondriac, but I think sometimes my liver hurts. And I have the cravings.
Last night I just refused to have anything, which wasn't too bad, because Stella and I got pissed the night before, chatting and watching TV. It was great fun, but I felt rough the next day. Rough enough to not like the sight of wine. But by the evening the hangover had cleared up enough that I muchly felt like having a glass, but my pride and my New Year's resolution pricked my conscience enough to not do it. Yet, I couldn't deny the craving. Especially since Abi and Mike were having a glass because it was Mike's birthday. For the first time I knew what it was like to stop smoking. The cravings, and the substitute eating. Just being at this point worries me.
It is bloody hard to quit drinking in this country, where drinking is so much condoned among young people, where the motto is "Ah fuck it, let's get smashed!"

I read Allen Carr's book about controlling alcohol, but all his arguments are really hard to apply. Alcohol isn't nasty. It tastes nice. And I like it. I don't want to stop drinking... I just want to drink less. Except that it isn't as easy as "just".

To drink or not to drink. It’s Friday night. I’ve been telling myself not to drink, or at least to drink less. It’s not good. It’s not fun drinking anymore... well, it is, but I do feel the consequences so much that I can’t ignore what it’s doing to me.

I dunno why I drink. Because it’s fun? Because I’m bored? Because I’m lonely? But I always drink in the company of people. I don’t have any social anxiety. Maybe it’s because it makes me feel something. Somehow not anxious. Somehow strong and enthusiastic. But at the same time, soon enough the opposite kicks in. I feel empty, bland, not bothered about anything, and the anxiety kicks like an angry malicious baby in my stomach.

The door just slammed shut; Stella and Mandy and Charlie have gone to the pub, and immediately the loneliness kicks in like some nausea. I haven’t gone, because I lack the funds till Wednesday, and because I am too tired to go out. But funny enough, I think I am tired because I drink too much. Drinking essentially prevents me from drinking some more. So I put on some suicidal-indulgent Haendel, and here we go, blog-whinging.
Welcome to England.

Yours truly,

the boozaholic