I Quit Alcohol: 30 Days Sober
TW: alcoholism, addiction, substance abuse, and reckless fuckery
In the early hours of the morning on the 1st of January 2015, I nearly died.
I woke up on New Years’ Day in an apartment on Peel Street in Montreal, with no knowledge of where I was or how I had come to be there. I was alone, lying under my coat on a stranger’s couch, next to a trash can full my own vomit, along with a bottle of water and a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues. I scribbled a thank-you note to my mysterious saviours, stuck it to their fridge, and left. The wonderful thing about Montreal is that because the city is at the bottom of a mountain, you always know which way is North, and so even though I didn’t know where I was, I knew which way to walk to find familiar ground. On the way home, the full picture of the night before came back to me. I remembered the bar on St. Laurent where a friend of a friend had ordered bottle service, and made sure our glasses were never empty. When your glass is never empty, you cannot keep track of how much you are drinking, and so I cannot even give you a ballpark estimate of what kind of alcohol I consumed or how much. I know it was enough to throw up on the street outside the bar. It was enough that the driver of the cab I eventually managed to hail knew that he could drive past my street, kick me out of the…
