Why me?
The puzzle of pieces that led to my alcoholism.
Let’s get one thing straight. Alcohol addiction is not a choice. Nor is it a moral failing or character weakness. Being an active alcoholic is a living hell. It’s like the devil themself has taken control of your motor functions and is determined to destroy you with them. Nobody chooses that for themselves. I wouldn’t even choose that for my worst enemy.
There are many theories out there that attempt to explain why some people become alcoholics and others don’t. I haven’t read any of them in depth and certainly am not aware of them all. All I can do is attempt to explain why I became an alcoholic. I can only share my experience and thoughts. I am not attempting to explain why anyone else has, or may develop, alcohol abuse disorder.
A genetic disposition?
Medical research shows that genetics accounts for about 50% of a person’s risk of developing alcoholism. There is no single “alcoholic gene”. In fact, there are hundreds of different genes and variations of genes, along with differing behavioural genes, that play a part in an individual’s chances of developing alcohol addiction. Although there is still so much to be learnt here, what is clear is that people with a history of alcoholism in their families have the highest risk of becoming alcoholics themselves. That is not to say that your fate is predetermined. Genes alone do not cause alcoholism. Environmental factors and epigenetics (gene and environmental interactions) play a major role too. And conversely, anyone can develop alcohol use disorder even if they are not genetically predisposed.
My own family is small but even small samples can yield results. My mother is an only child and a daily drinker. I don’t know much about her family as her parents died young. My Dad had one sister who had two sons; my only two cousins that I am related to by blood. The eldest of these boys became a chronic alcoholic for most of his adult life and tragically, after multiple suicide attempts, he died five years ago. My aunt raised her family in Canada, my parents raised theirs in North-East England. The grandparents that I did know were strict Roman Catholics and did not drink much. That said, memoirs written by my Great-Uncle, open with a paragraph describing his father’s (my paternal Great-Grandfather) drinking problem, much to the consternation of the rest of the family!
Although I know very little of my mother’s family history, I know my Mum does not have a healthy relationship with alcohol. Alcohol was always the first thing she would turn to when she got home from work, and she would stay up late most nights working and drinking. My mum managed to give up caffeine when she was diagnosed with Osteoporosis, and red meat after a diagnosis and treatment for Stage IV Bowel Cancer, but alcohol is something she is not willing to forgo for the health benefits.
Environmental factors
Even if I could prove that I have a genetic predisposition to developing alcoholism, it wasn’t my genes that led me to drink in the first place! While 50% of our risk can be attributed to our genes; environmental and social factors, along with epigenetics, account for the remaining 50%.
There was always alcohol in the house. My parents drank wine with most evening meals (beer with lunch at the weekend) and continued drinking after dinner into the evening. My parents were both academics working at the University. Alcohol was very much part of their world. As a child I associated drinking wine and beer with sophisticated intellectual adults.
I am an introvert and was chronically shy as a child. I’m one of those ‘naturally introverted, selectively extroverted’ people who can open up to people I feel safe with but would otherwise come across as shy, quiet or withdrawn. I also suffered from extreme anxiety and was generally a very nervous kid. Remember at school when the teacher made everyone in class state their name out loud to the rest of the class? That terrified me! As soon as the exercise began, my heart would pump furiously, and I would physically shake in anticipation of having to say my one-syllable name out loud in front of everyone. If we had to stand up and speak in front of the class? My face would be bright red, my legs felt like they would no longer support me, and I felt like I was going to faint!
At home I was championed for being clever but otherwise I was given very little support. My mother was stressed and irritable around her children, and my father was largely absent, lost in his work. Growing up I was housed, fed and clothed but neglected emotionally. I wasn’t taught social skills or lovingly nurtured. I was lonely and had no confidence in myself. I became a target for bullies and was bullied at home, relentlessly at school and at any extra-curricular activities I attended. Needless to say, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about my inner life. I didn’t fit in anywhere and didn’t know how to. I wasn’t brought up to discuss emotions or feelings, so it didn’t occur to me to speak to anyone outside my family. I didn’t like who I was. The external environment I was brought up in created the perfect environment within me for addiction to take hold. It’s worth noting that when my youngest brother was two years old my mum hired a wonderful woman called Mary to look after us while mum worked. Mary looked after my youngest brother during the day and then cared for me and our middle sibling, who is only 15 months younger than me, after school for a couple of hours three times per week. My closest sibling and I have a running ‘joke’ that the youngest of us “turned out alright because he was brought up by Mary” and not by our mum.
The first time I got drunk at age 13 I found this incredible feeling called confidence. Alcohol meant I no longer had to be the shy, quiet person that nobody ever noticed or just made fun of! I could speak to other people and be loud and fun too! I could be in a crowd and meet strangers without feeling terrified! I loved it! Throughout my teens and into adulthood, I always used alcohol as a social lubricant and as a way to hide my social anxiety. I so wish I had known that alcohol increases anxiety in the long run. It really is a downward spiral. I was stunned when a medic I met in my thirties told me that in Ireland, that hangxiety we feel after a big drinking session is known as ‘the fear’. I just couldn’t believe that there were so many other people out there that felt it too and that it had a name!
Growing up in England, alcohol was everywhere. Alcohol was so deeply embedded in British culture that you’d have to be a nun for people to accept that you didn’t drink. The go-to activity for British people is to meet ‘down the pub’. The Hard-Fi song, ‘Livin for the Weekend’ explains British culture perfectly. We’d work Monday to Friday and TGIF simply referred to the relief that we could all go out drinking to forget on a Friday night. And a Saturday night. And quite often on a Sunday night too. Alcohol was easy to procure. In the UK you can legally drink from the age of 18. Fake IDs were so easy to get, and many pubs and bars didn’t notice or care that we were underage. You can buy alcohol in the supermarket along with your groceries at any time of day. The alcohol industry and the UK government certainly did not want to make it difficult for anyone to access alcohol.
From getting drunk that first time as a tween, I progressed to drinking cider or alcopops designed specifically for the young palate in the park, to going to venues as an older teen where we knew we didn’t need ID. To me, drinking was fun. It was an escape. I could be the person I had always wanted to be with alcohol in my system. By the time I was 17 and 18 years old, I would go out and drink heavily on a regular basis. I was always with a group of friends. We all did it but looking back, it was almost always me who would have ‘one too many’ by the end of the night. Up until the age of 19, being a ‘piss head’ was a label I laughed off and it was not impacting the rest of my life. My hangovers weren’t terrible, I slept the worst of them off. I got great grades at college and was accepted into some of the best universities in the country. I know now that while I was having fun with my mates, as well as leading an emotionally dysfunctional life, all the heavy drinking was causing serious changes in my brain function and significantly increasing my risk of addiction.
Looking back, it’s easy for me to piece the puzzle together.
I was raised in a household that venerated wine as a reward for a hard day’s work and by parents that equated alcohol consumption with adulthood. My parents gave me my first glass of wine (with dinner so that’s ok, right?!) on my 13th birthday as a rite of passage into adulthood.
I was raised in a culture that screamed ‘DRINK!’ as the answer to ‘what do you want to do today?’
I was raised by emotionally unavailable and neglectful parents and was sent to school with limited social skills and zero coping mechanisms. Dressed exclusively in second-hand shop clothes, NHS jam-jar glasses and with not an ounce of fashion sense about me, I was such an easy target for bullies who destroyed my self-worth further.
I was raised in a culture where kids start drinking in groups in public spaces as their preferred social activity. Alcohol was cheap and easy to access.
I had no self-confidence and didn’t like the person that other people saw me as. Alcohol changed all this for me.
Add to the puzzle the genetic predisposition to alcoholism and the changes in the way the brain responds to alcohol caused by heavy drinking on a regular basis from a young age.
It was the perfect storm.
Thank you for reading My Secret Sobriety.
Kate xox