Dependency

Quantity, not quality. It’s was a catch phrase of mine from high school on until my drinking progressed out of the social arena and into the shameful, but necessary solitary ritual. I didn’t by alcohol for the taste, no thoughts of savoring the moment; my alcohol purchases were all about volume. But once dependence set in the phrase no longer rang exactly true. It wasn’t so much about getting the greatest “bang” for the buck as it was maintaining availability and accessibility.

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I am not really sure the exact point in my life where my alcohol abuse evolved into addiction. Even as a teenager I had an acute emotional dependence on alcohol, so although it hadn’t yet developed into a physical dependence- was I already an alcoholic at this time? It may be difficult to place the timeline, but it is not too hard to identify the behavior later as a young adult that brought it about.

It was the sleepless nights spent alone in my cups that served as my crucible. When I think of the word I always imagine an alchemist alone in his laboratory leaning over a white hot vessel attempting to turn lead into gold. My transformation into a full fledged alcoholic wasn’t much different.

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