I think I might be flirting with alcoholism.
It's not that I drink a lot, in fact I drink very little in comparison to most other people in this country. It's when and why I drink that worries me.
Like right now. I just sat through another 4 hour+ session of attempting to get something patched together in my study group so we can deliver a finished product that will net us a pass on the exam. This is accomplished only by fighting through bloody, screaming, torturous resistance from the one colossal dung-filled scrotum who insists on getting everything his way and acts like a spoiled little child whenever anyone attempts to challenge his views. Which tends to be quite often, because his views are fucking stupid and nonsensical.
This happens 2-3 times a week, after which I don't feel like doing anything other than hopping on the next train home and just trying to think enough happy thoughts to keep me going through the hour commute before I'm back in my own little pigsty and can slam down a couple slugs of vodka straight from the bottle (does the heavy lifting), and then pouring myself a sipper of Irish cream to calm down with. And this vodka is really quite bad.
Even on a normal day, when I'm making dinner I'll often find myself slavering over the beer I'll have alongside it. Now, I actually happen to enjoy beer on its own merits, and drink non-alcoholic when applicable. But this seems like a far deeper, needier desire than just being thirsty for one's preferred chilled beverage. It's a craving.
Maybe it's more that it's just a symbol that the day is over and I can relax and throw away my responsibilities for a short while... Last semester I was stressed out and depressed after taking an exam, and as soon as I came home I got myself drunk. It was 2 in the afternoon, and I was ready to shitcan the rest of the day. I just didn't want to think about anything, and the alcohol helps. Sometimes.
Other times, I wonder if I'm actually trying to become an alcoholic. I think some part of me thinks that it would actually provide some small measure of purpose or 'meaning' to my life, as I'd at least have *some* sort of driving force. I'd have something to do, something to identify myself with, something that I actually cared about at all.
I don't know. I don't really want to think about it. I might bring it up with my shrink tomorrow, but I don't know if I consider it "real" enough to actually bring up. And I've got enough stuff that's been building up, I don't know if I'd even have time for it.
Cheers.