Chapter 1: what it was like

 Chapter 1: What It Was Like

Alcoholism ran deep on both sides of my family. It was an unspoken legacy that haunted us, passed down from generation to generation like a dark secret. Growing up, I witnessed the destructive power of addiction firsthand. My parents, my grandparents, even distant relatives—alcohol seemed to have a vice-like grip on our family tree.

My story starts out just like any good alcoholic's should, sitting on top of the bar. My parents, exhausted from the birthing process, decided to make a quick stop at the American Legion on the south side of Youngstown. It was a place where my grandfather sought solace, a haven for veterans who found comfort in the company of like-minded souls. As we entered the Legion, the dimly lit room greeted me with the clinking of glasses and the aroma of stale beer. As my parents carried me across the room, they gently placed me on top of the bar to meet my grandparents for the first time. It was an environment that would become all too familiar to me in the years to come. Little did I know then the significance of that moment and the powerful role addiction would come to play in my life. It was in that very place, surrounded by cigarette smoke and the laughter of patrons, where my story began- a story of struggle, pain, and ultimately, redemption.

One of my earliest and fondest memories was spending time with my grandpa. We would sit together on his worn-out recliner, watching the Pittsburgh Steelers play football on a small, crackling television set. I would sit on his knee, mesmerized by the game, while he sipped on his beloved Blatz beer. Now I know what you're thinking, who likes Blatz beer? And while i do agree, it was during these moments that I felt a sense of belonging, a connection to something greater than myself. Little did I know that this innocent bonding experience would lay the foundation for my own troubled relationship with alcohol.

Eventually, my family moved to a small town called Berlin Center in Ohio. Surrounded by endless fields of cows and corn, it felt like a world away from the suburban life I had known. At school, I observed my peers effortlessly forming friendships, laughing, and living seemingly carefree lives. But for me, life was different. It was a constant battle with loneliness, awkwardness, and a pervasive sense of being separate from everyone else. I never felt comfortable in my own skin.

Then came the day that changed my life forever—the day I got drunk for the first time. My best friend and I decided to skip school, craving an escape from our mundane teenage existence. We devised a plan to break into a nearby house, knowing there was a hidden liquor cabinet waiting to be discovered. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, we stole a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tequila, feeling like renegades on a path to rebellion.

We retreated to my friend's house, hidden away from prying eyes. As we opened those bottles and the pungent smell of alcohol filled the room, I felt a surge of anticipation. With each gulp, that liquid fire cascaded down my throat and when it hit my stomach, it ignited a raging inferno within me. It was a feeling I had never experienced before—a euphoria that drowned out my insecurities, fears, and doubts. In that moment, I had found my solution to life.

From that day forward, I became consumed by the pursuit of that fleeting feeling. I chased it relentlessly, seeking out any opportunity to recreate that initial rush of euphoria. Parties, gatherings, or even lonely nights spent in isolation—alcohol became my savior, my refuge from the harsh realities of life. It offered me a temporary escape, a respite from the overwhelming weight of my own thoughts.

Alcohol became my best friend....