I grew up in a small town in southeastern Massachusetts, the kind of small town where there was absolutely nothing to do. So when I drank my first sip of alcohol as a senior in high school, it was love at first sip. Not that I liked the taste, but almost instantly it seemed I was transformed from being a shy, self-conscious person into someone who could lose her inhibitions, loosen up and have fun.
The problem was that right away I would take a drink, and then the drink would take a drink. I couldn’t have just one. If a little made me feel good, more would surely make me feel even better. So right from the get go I drank to get drunk, and I did it frequently.
I went away to college in the northern part of the state and majored in partying. I was a daily drinker who relied on alcohol to take the edge off any kind of stress. The drinking age was 18 at the time, and I remember getting so drunk on my 18th birthday that I had to be carried out of the dorm for a fire drill. Unluckily for the guy who carried me, I lived on the eighth floor of the dorm.
I found it entertaining by then to get drunk at night and play games to be able to function with a hangover the next day when I went to class. Sometimes that required drinking in the morning to be able to silence the shakes.