My Personal Story of How Drinking Took Hold

There was never a time I saw myself as someone with an alcohol problem. For the longest time, I thought it was harmless drinks to relax, loosen up, or fit in. At first, it was small and totally casual wine with dinner, some beers with work buddies. I thought I kept my end of the bargain.

When Normal Became Numbing

But looking back, I now see the subtle shift. Two glasses became three. A night out became a morning during which I couldn’t remember some conversations. But I was doing my best convincing myself that it was all normal. Everybody had a drink, and many of them drank way more than I did. So, I clung to this comparison to justify my actions.

The next thought that came to mind was, “It’s time to drink!” Whenever life felt heavy for me—stress at work, conflict at home, or even the hollow emptiness I carried inside—every time, I just had to have one more drink. Silencing the noise in my head and distracting from urgent pain I didn’t want to confront. What I didn’t realize was alcohol was also slowly silencing me.

The Shift From Fun to Need

The turning point came when I noticed that fun was gone from drinking. It had turned into a need. I would wake up thinking about my next drink. Social plans were all about the booze; if it wasn’t, I was restless, almost resentful. Those times of drinking-induced laughter and good times slowly turned to pain, shame, and isolation. My health suffered, the relationships that meant something to me suffered, and I was slowly losing the last bits of self that reminded me of who I was.

I never called it alcoholism in the beginning. That word sounded too harsh, too conclusive. I reassured myself that I was “just stressed,” or I deserved to unwind. But deep down, I did know. The truth was that I had slipped across a line, without even realizing it. The line was when alcohol went from being something I used to something that was using me.

Small Choices, Big Consequences

It was painful yet necessary to admit how it started—and where it took me. My destructive journey with addiction did not begin with chaos or drama, nor was it filled with cliché life-altering moments. It began much more innocently—with small choices that seemed harmless until suddenly, they were not. I share my story because I know how easy it is to slide into that place without seeing the danger ahead.

A Step Toward Reclaiming Myself

Standing face-to-face with the very beginning of it all is the first step in reclaiming my life, and for me, it is a reminder of why I never want to go back.

Even now, my recovery journey is not something I can call “finished” or “perfect.” Some days are harder than others, and I know I still have a long way to go. But I’ve learned that something is always better than nothing. Progress, no matter how small, matters. What keeps me moving is being kinder to myself than I ever was before and taking it one day at a time.

Editor’s Note: If you’re looking for more support, inspiration, or stories that speak to your recovery experience, we invite you to explore our Blogs & Articles section. Stay connected with the In The Rooms community on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and twitter for daily encouragement, real voices, and reminders that healing happens one moment at a time.