Nevrotico: A Personal Chronicle of OCD, Anxiety and Neurosis by Gherin Krieg

Author:Gherin Krieg
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Health & Well Being, Compulsive Behaviour, Nonfiction, Psychology
ISBN: 2940045203777
Publisher: Gherin Krieg
Published: 2013-08-04T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27: I hasz not been drinkin

As a teenager, I was pretty docile. I attended two dances in high school, but I didn’t stay very long at either. I wasn’t just a wallflower, but the wall itself. There was no shortage of underage drinking, but like Norman Bates, I always worried what mother would think. No, if I was going to get drunk, then it was going to be under the most unlikely and idiotic of circumstances. There could be no other way for me.

I had a few friends that I would occasionally play sports like football or baseball with. Let me be clear though, the amount of time I actually spent playing organized sports amounted to approximately three minutes. I showed up once to baseball practice, the coach was an asshole and I left. I was generally a good player and on this glorious Sunday afternoon, I was set to meet with friends to play a big game of baseball. I don't remember specifically, but I was likely filled with anxiety because there would be guys attending who were outside of my realm of comfort—mere acquaintances. It always took me quite some time to acclimate to people, situation and surroundings.

When I arrived with my usual set of friends, we were greeted by Tom. He was in many of my classes, and was notorious for his ADHD episodes. Unlike my lazy self, he also worked at a hotel, often 40-70 hours a week. Despite this, he was actually on the honor role.

Because he worked at a hotel, he had easy access to alcohol. He brought a couple of 40oz bottles of Canadian whiskey along with some shot glasses. I was 16 years old and perhaps four months away from having my first major episode of repeating OCD symptoms. Remember the ones where my brain told me it wouldn’t let me be happy? Yes, just before the two-year headache. I can’t say why I made the uneducated decision to start doing whiskey shots, but apparently it was only Tom and I partaking in the festivities. There we were on a sunny Sunday afternoon playing baseball and drinking shots in the schoolyard. It didn’t even have the right ambiance for drinking.

“Wine is fine, but whiskey’s quicker,” said Ozzy Osborne in Suicide Solution. I didn’t know what to expect since I had never been drunk before, but I soon discovered what Ozzy was talking about. It started off being pretty entertaining; Tom and I were laughing and singing, but baseball was now all but impossible to play. However, things quickly escalated, and the world quickly began to spin out of control. I remember thinking I wanted the feeling to stop, but I was well beyond the point of no return. I vividly recall Tom counting the shots, and for me it stopped at 17.

The rest of the day and evening only comes back to me in horrendous and embarrassing flashbacks to this day. I pissed myself and vomited everywhere. I probably even shit myself.

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