In Defense of Alcohol

It’s no secret that I love the sweet nectar. However, with this distinction comes the misperception that I’m an alcoholic. After many, many therapy sessions and trips to rehab, I’ve come to find that this is not the case. The fact of the matter is that I can go for stretches without alcohol and be fine, as I do at present Sunday through Thursday, but I tend to self-medicate with alcohol in order to deal with underlying issues that I would prefer not to remedy with prescription medication, considering every time I’ve been prescribed to one it’s either made me physically jittery or mentally depressed.

My copious drinking is primarily the result of near-crippling anxiety. I’ve taken psychostimulants, benzos, and antidepressants, none of which have ever helped me; psychostimulants only sought to make me frazzled, benzos made me lazy, and antidepressants made me depressed when I wasn’t to begin with. This is why I prefer to cure my botheration with a milder substance: alcohol.

It’s no coincidence that a majority of famously creative people have or have had personal “demons” that usually entailed some sort of substance abuse. While I’d never put myself in a category with the likes of Fitzgerald and Huxley, “demons” as a term suggests abuse and is subjective. As seen through my eyes, personal binge drinking is not a problem if it’s not affecting anyone else.

Yes, of course my heavy drinking is ravaging my body, but the keyword there is “my”: it’s my body and I’m free to wreak havoc on it if I so choose. While your concern is appreciated, it’s also unprompted; thus, mind your own business. While I have tended to overdo it at times, alcohol and I have a very good relationship and have made many stupendous memories together. Leave us be.