This time two years, I realized I had a substance abuse problem. Walking through the tiny sidestreets of Guanajuato, I pulled apart my reasons for drinking and why I needed to stop.

Things weren’t supposed to happen that way. I was on my study abroad year in Mexico — it should have been the year of tequila, wild parties, and general hedonism. The last hoorah before returning to a reality of final year stress and job applications. Instead, I went sober.

To anyone who knows me, the idea that I had a problem would seem like a gross overstatement. My drinking patterns were comfortably within the realms of ‘normal’, especially for a 20-year-old British student. And my life was going well. Everything seemed under control. I just liked to have a good time with my friends now and then.

In the eyes of the society I grew up in, there’s nothing wrong with that. Until there is.

The angel child

“You’re like an angel,” a boy said to me when I revealed to him that I’d never been drunk. I was fourteen.

Back then, drinking wasn’t an activity I felt drawn to. My mother didn’t like alcohol and only drank on festive occasions; I’d followed by example.

As lots of my friends got older and started to experiment, I opted out. I went to a couple of parties but I stuck to soft drinks. I felt awkward and out of place and didn’t want to talk to anyone new. Sometimes, I didn’t even get invited.

It all felt like an unnecessary add-on to a life I was already content with. I was focusing on my school grades. I was trying to write my novel. I had hobbies and projects. I was too happy alone in my room to want to venture outside of it.

The awakening of a devil inside

When I went to university, everything changed. I was drawn outside of my comfort zone and towards the deviant activities I’d previously shunned. I can pinpoint two possible reasons why.

In the months leading up to university, I’d broken up with my first long-term boyfriend and drifted apart from all my friends. One day, I suddenly realized that I was no longer anybody’s best friend or close confidant. As I embarked on the newest chapter of my life, I was determined not to let that happen again. I wanted a wide net of acquaintances and a solid friendship group.

There was also a dose of curiosity. I’d been resisting alcohol for so long that it had started to take on a mysterious charm and my decision to avoid it began to feel arbitrary. Was I really going to go my whole life without experiencing the famed drunken state?

Anyhow, for one reason or another, I started drinking. I loved it.

I went from a reserved and serious girl who struggled with small talk to the life and soul of the party. When I drank, I could get on with anyone; we didn’t need to have any shared interests or values anymore. Anyone could be my best friend for the night.

Back when I was permanently sober, I’d thought that partying hard was a skill reserved for the cool kids, but soon enough I realized that anyone can be good at partying. It’s not hard to be the loudest and craziest in the room if you’ve had a few shots and you’re prepared to let yourself go. You don’t have to be anything special to come home at 7 am.

The realization I had a problem

After a few years of living this way, I didn’t exactly ruin my life, but I didn’t make the most of it either. I turned down useful opportunities because they clashed with parties and I distracted myself from the big, underlying question: what is my purpose in life?

I wish I could say that I decided to sort my life out and get sober independently. Not quite; on that night two years ago when I wandered the streets of Guanajuato and mulled over my life, my boyfriend walked by my side.

But he wasn’t the knight in shining armor, just as I wasn’t the angel waiting to fix him. We were both broken.

He drank alcohol every night to help him relax and take his mind off life. When I drank, I’d try to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible so that I could go crazy and dance all night.

We were both disgusted at each others’ behaviors. He thought I was attention-seeking and immature. I thought he was an alcoholic.

In my mind, my attitude towards alcohol was healthier, because I didn’t drink casually; I just wanted to make good memories with my friends. However, he thought that his attitude was healthier because he only drank casually; he wasn’t partying all night, he was just chilling it.

We both drank for very different reasons. And we both saw straight through each other.

Sobriety made me free

As soon as I gave up alcohol, I realized that I’d been putting my life on hold. I stopped drinking for good in October 2017, and since then my life has improved in leaps and bounds.

I went from having no work experience and no idea what I wanted to do in my career to securing two internships in one year. My grades improved dramatically. I started to prioritize my family more. I stopped repressing my dreams and let myself focus on them. The life of my boyfriend saw similar improvements.

That doesn’t mean that I haven’t touched alcohol at all over the last two years. I’ve had a few planned ‘relapses’, the biggest one being a week of celebration after finishing my university exams.

It was kind of fun but confirmed to me that the partying chapter of my life is well and truly closed. I couldn’t wait to return to sobriety and never have to worry about pushing my limits to the point of feeling ill or forcing myself to drink something I don’t like the taste of.

The only time I drink alcohol now is if I order a beer when I’d rather have a Coca Cola because I know the sugar is worse for me.

I wasn’t addicted

It’s possible to develop a physical dependency on alcohol, which is defined as follows:

“Drinking plays an important part in the day to day life of alcohol dependent people, which could lead to building up a physical tolerance or experiencing withdrawal symptoms if they stop.”

That was never me — but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a problem. I had started to develop a psychological addiction to the human connections I was able to attain whilst drinking.

I certainly wasn’t turning to alcohol for the right reasons. What are the ‘right’ reasons to poison yourself anyway? Your culture? Your god-given right to enjoy yourself? The need to make your family happy?

Drinking is a dangerous distraction

I’ve heard so many students say that a couple of nights drinking every week doesn’t hurt your productivity if you manage your time correctly, because you can work during the day. This is partly true yet also completely false.

The costs of drinking go beyond the time spent drinking. You may also be contending with a disorientated sleep schedule, lower quality sleep, and lower mental functioning the next day.

Most importantly, drinking is an excellent distraction. I want to create a life focused on self-actualization, meaningful relationships, and having a positive impact on the world. Party culture took away precious time that I could have been dedicating to those things. I can’t help but mourn the lost time — if I’d never started drinking, maybe I’d be a full-time writer by now.

I’d challenge anybody who drinks or parties regularly to say that it doesn’t distract them from what they truly want in life, but it’s easy to live in denial when you’re not addicted and everything looks good from the outside.

You don’t need to wait until you hit rock bottom to realize you have a problem.