Coping and Hoping

I think about drinking at least once a week. Mostly when I’m out with Jamie and friends on weekends. Alcohol use has become so commonplace in our society that it is assumed everyone drinks, at least a little. I used to drink a lot. I wouldn’t say that I ever had a drinking problem, but I was definitely a binge drinker throughout high school and much of college. I did it because it made me feel good and assisted me with some of my social insecurities. Drinking was so embedded into the high school and college culture that I never thought twice about it.

After being diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, more than a few doctors told me that using recreational drugs or alcohol could cause symptoms to resurface. So I completely cut drinking out of my life. Do I miss it? A lot! But as of now I am managing okay without it.

Jamie asks me quite frequently if I’ll have a drink with her. She likes to unwind with a glass of wine when we are out to dinner. I’ve never sen Jamie out of control drunk, but I do see her slip into a more relax state after several cocktails. I explained to her that I don’t drink because it could disrupt my stability. I’ve told her that mixing alcohol with the medication I’m on could be a problem. She understands my situation but I know she would really enjoy getting a little tipsy with me. After all, drinking is fun, that’s why so many people my age do it.

It becomes a little more uncomfortable when I have to explain to a friend that I don’t drink. “At all?” Is their question. “Not really,” I say. I always include that ‘really’ in my response to lesson the shock on my peers that they’ve acutally met a young, seemingly healthy guy who doesn’t put down the occasional Miller Light. Actually, my beer of choice was Blue Moon when I started drinking again a couple of summers ago.

I was single at the time, so was my brother and a roommate of ours in our Lincoln Square apartment. We started having bachelors’ nights when we’d go to the bars, get plastered and try to pick up women. We were all successful on both fronts, drinking until we lost all inhibitions, and scoring with nice looking young women. I kept it up for more than a month. We’d often go out three nights a week. I remember consulting my older brother at the time. He was a Psychology major in college and has expansive knowledge about the various functions of the brain. “If you do it in moderation, you’ll be fine,” he said. “Well what’s moderation?” I asked. “Just don’t abuse it, do it to have a good time.” And that was the green light I needed, it became my justification for getting drunk. At the same time, the doctor was adjusting my medication, trying to find the lowest effective dose. The drinking and the med change were recipes for disaster. I’m not going to lie, those days in September of ’07 were some of the best times of my life, but they became dangerous very quickly.

First I had trouble sleeping, then I started hearing voices and experiencing hallucinations. I quickly stopped drinking and the doctor increased the medication. I don’t know if the symptoms manifested because of the med change or my late night benders, probably, it was a combination of both. I still think about returning to my drinking days but I know if I start with a beer to unwind, it will lead to five and eventually all out drunkenness.