The first time I tried alcohol was when I was 13. I think it was beer. My classmate and I bought two bottles with pocket money and drank them right on the embankment. We were very exhausted in the sun, and we barely made it home (we didn’t have a few rubles left for the tram). I can’t say that I liked this experience, but I was left with a feeling of my own adulthood and coolness: this is what I am, buying beer for myself.

Until graduation, my experiments with alcohol remained at about the same level: I drank in company because it was cool. We mostly took ready-made bottled cocktails, which were terribly harmful to the stomach. But who thinks about this at 14-15 years old? Sometimes vodka, but “purely symbolically”, one bottle for every seven people. We drank on a bench in front of the nightclub to save on drinks inside.

After school, I went to university and moved from my parents to another city. For the first three years I lived in a student dormitory. Everyone drank there all the time. There was no need for a reason, as long as there was money. Most often they took vodka. Mixed it with cola for better effect. By the way, I usually started romantic relationships only after a couple of cocktails. It was difficult for me to flirt when I was sober, but alcohol brought me out of my shell and made me the life of the party. It’s not very pleasant to remember this, but my first sex also happened while I was drunk. To be honest, I would hardly have looked at that guy if I hadn’t been under the influence.

Then there was another young man. And he, too, quickly figured out my secret - he came on a date with my favorite wine in a thermos and jokingly called me “Miss Cabernet.”

After university, I went for an internship in another country. Adult life has begun, full of stress and problems. I lived alone. After work, I went to the supermarket, bought something that I could whip up, and always grabbed a bottle of wine. I just wanted to relax and feel light and carefree for a moment. Alcohol helped, but I consistently drank a bottle several times a week. Alone .

Yes, in the mornings I sometimes felt ashamed for some message dictated by a relaxed mind that I managed to publish on social networks, or for an SMS to a male colleague - of course, not of the most business content. But the real reason that made me realize that I had problems with alcohol was my appearance. Unfortunately, my “hobby” did not pass without a trace: bags under my eyes and a swollen face became increasingly difficult to hide under a layer of makeup. And chronic fatigue could no longer be ignored.

I decided to gather my will and stop drinking, but it turned out that it was not so easy to do. Every evening there was a painful desire to pour at least a glass into myself. If I didn’t hold back, it wasn’t limited to just one glass. Once I managed to last two weeks without alcohol, and I proudly told a close friend about this, to which he raised his eyebrows in surprise: “Two weeks? Yes, you have an addiction. You don’t count how many days you haven’t drunk milk.” Probably, only after his words did I for the first time seriously think about what was happening to me. The bottom line is that I have been drinking almost every day for the past five years, and without alcohol I become angry and irritable. Moreover, I was no angel with alcohol either: according to friends, it was impossible to communicate with me normally, after a few glasses I would get furious if they didn’t want to drink with me, and demanded that the banquet be continued.

I started looking on the Internet for signs of addiction, and according to all the tests it turned out that I was almost a complete alcoholic. I categorically disagreed with this, after all, I have a good job, a successful social life, and alcoholics are those who drink continuously all day long and then fall asleep under a bench.

I convinced myself that in my case we were talking about genetic intolerance to alcohol: others drink the same amount, it’s just that for me, strong drinks provoke memory lapses and an inability to stop in time. It’s not surprising: many people with addiction engage in such self-deception.

Soon I began to have serious health problems: my stomach hurt almost every day. I chalked it up to stress and poor nutrition, went for an examination, and was diagnosed with gastritis. In addition, they said that the liver was slightly enlarged. I was prescribed a diet, and alcohol was banned. This was the first time I was able to go without alcohol for two whole months.

True, I was constantly tormented by the desire to drink and relax, it seemed that I would soon explode from tension. I became especially irritable and angry. The same friend, seeing my suffering, offered to go to the gym with him to release negative energy. I agreed. After training it actually became a little easier.

After a course of treatment for gastritis, I decided that it was better for me to forget about alcohol. In addition, I had a new young man who was a supporter of a healthy lifestyle and had no idea about my problems. I clearly realized that even after just one glass I lose self-control and get drunk to the point of passing out.

For the entire eight months that we dated, I didn’t take a drop into my mouth. But, unfortunately, after our breakup, she relapsed again and continued to get drunk alone in the kitchen. Only this time I already saw what this lifestyle was doing to me: terrible appearance, fatigue, feeling overwhelmed. I didn’t want to go to a narcologist: I was ashamed.

I pulled myself together again and gave up drinking completely. The hardest thing is to hold on for the first few weeks, then it becomes easier, and you even feel proud of yourself. Now I have been sober for almost two years with varying degrees of success. The hardest thing is to lead a social life. At work, I often have to attend events where it is customary to have a glass or two, and here I have to be firm and refuse offers of a drink. Honestly, it's difficult. Most people react to refusal with surprise: “How? Are you really not going to do it at all?” Usually you want to answer them obscenely. I probably have reasons for this, which I am not obliged to report to everyone I meet.

They say that there are no former alcoholics, so I understand that my addiction may return. But I hope that over time it will become increasingly easier for me to resist temptation.

Recorded: Tatiana Nikitina

Hi all. My name is Arseny. The article will be of interest to those who want to quit drinking.

By the way, anyone who wants can download my small .

It all started quite normally, however, like everyone else: gatherings with friends over a glass of beer, student times, accompanied by liters of alcohol.

As the years passed, alcohol became a firm and natural part of my life. He began to accompany all weekends and all holidays. I could no longer imagine a holiday without alcohol.
I drank mostly beer, but also often drank vodka, cognac, and whiskey.
Although I preferred to mix strong drinks with cola or juice. So it seemed to me that I was drinking a low-alcohol drink for the taste, and, therefore, I could not develop an alcohol addiction. How wrong I was then!

Over time, I began to drink almost every day. I didn’t drink only once or twice a week, proving to myself that I could live without alcohol and everything was fine with me. At that moment, quitting drinking was not even on my mind.

If on weekdays I allowed myself to drink on average only 3-4 bottles of beer, then on weekends I knew no limits and drank to my heart's content. On such days I could drink a lot, 4-6 liters of beer, pouring it into cocktails and cognac. But I tried not to count or realize how much I drank.
I stopped drinking only when I physically could no longer infuse myself with alcohol until I simply became mechanically knocked out.

My poor body, how did it withstand this? I didn’t care, the main thing was that I got relaxation and a dull state of joy.
I don’t know where the line was between a normal holiday with alcohol and when I started having serious problems. Then for the first time, I began to think about quitting drinking.
I began to notice that life, when I was forced to be sober, became completely uncomfortable for me. When I didn't drink, I felt constantly dissatisfied and irritated. I was waiting for the day when I could finally have a drink and escape from the drabness of everyday life.
I believed that I was undeservedly deprived of life:

• I didn't like the job
• there were almost no friends
• there was no relationship.

The only thing I could influence was that I could afford to buy myself a few bottles of my favorite beer and enjoy it.
Over time, I became less and less hooked, I began to lean more on strong drinks. I began to accompany drinking with other addictions at the same time:

• smoked a pack a day
• played computer games for 15 hours straight,
• leaned on fast food,
• hung out on sites with obscene content

I used any method that allowed me to forget and not think about reality.
I began to isolate myself from society, I became more comfortable drinking alone at home, when no one could disturb me. I began to refuse any formal meetings with friends, where I knew that I wouldn’t be able to drink as much as I wanted.

Outwardly, I took care of myself so that no one could blame me for my weakness for alcohol.
I found any excuse to drink. Over time, I began to drink every day. I needed alcohol to survive.
I wanted to quit drinking, but in sobriety my feelings of anxiety and depression grew so much that I drank again, forgetting about my intentions. I was constantly ruled by inexplicable anxiety. And only when I drank could I relieve tension.
This condition was caused by alcohol itself, which then successfully relieved this condition. But I only learned this when I began to study in detail information about how to stop drinking.

When I didn't drink, I became:

• irritable,
• spiteful,
• upturned,
• reacted sharply and aggressively to events that essentially did not require such a reaction from me.

I should always have a pack of cigarettes, because somehow I was supposed to cope with negative reality?

I felt that something was clearly going wrong with my life, but I was scared to quit drinking, because I could lose my only joy and support in the form of alcohol.

Beer has always accompanied me. I also drank at home, in cafes; I didn’t need a special occasion to drink.

Over time, it became difficult for me to do even ordinary things - clean the house, or call someone. I didn’t see the point in deciding anything or striving for something; it was easier for me to escape from life into my alcoholic beer world. This way I could at least get a guaranteed buzz.
Often my parties, which went far, ended in fights with random people, reports to the police, lost money, phones, and other things that I am still ashamed of.

How did I manage to quit drinking?

It's good that all this is in the past. I have not drunk or smoked for 5 years now.
But my path to sobriety was not as easy as you might think at first glance.

Even before I quit drinking, I began to study information about my addiction, scoured the entire Internet in search of an answer to the question “ how to stop drinking «.

But what I discovered: the bulk of the information is dummies that are unable to help a person stop drinking. Tons of misconceptions and prejudices that only distanced a person from true recovery.

I had a hard time clinging to those valuable pieces of information that were rare, but still encountered on my way in the search.
It was the knowledge I gained that helped me quit drinking completely.

Understand that anyone can stop drinking. Maybe you're so motivated right now that you feel like you'll never drink again.
But it will take several days, weeks, and for the most severe it may take several months, but sooner or later you will break down and start drinking again. This is the ambush.
That is, the main problem is not to stop drinking, but to not start drinking again.

Now my goal is to bring the valuable information that I received with such difficulty to every person who wants to know how to stop drinking.
I collected all the information together, brought it into a form understandable for every person and presented it on.

In this video I told my story:

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Sad statistics say that after trying a drug once, a person does not stop. The environment, medications and doses change, suicide attempts and overdoses occur, treatment in hospitals and work with a psychologist, several normal years and a breakdown again.

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Chronic alcoholism is an incurable disease, but some people manage to achieve stable remission and stop drinking alcohol. Others gradually descend down the social ladder until they finally degenerate. Most addicts make attempts to quit drinking alcohol, which are not always successful. For those who are used to going on a long binge, the stories of alcoholics can give them the impetus to quit drinking as soon as possible.

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“When I was miserably kicked out of my next job, I realized that I had to do something. I am quite mature enough not to drink. I wanted to quit drinking: there was no longer any doubt, I admitted that I was an alcoholic.

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I was born in Minsk into a prosperous family. None of the relatives suffered from alcoholism, much less drug addiction. For the first 4 years at school I was the best student in my class. I remember well that I read more than 100 words per minute in first grade! But my behavior was always unimportant: I wanted to express myself, to assert my superiority.

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My childhood was almost no different from the childhood of my peers. The only difference that I would highlight is that since childhood I have seen the negativity that drinking alcohol brings into a person’s life. My father, and later my older brother, were alcoholics.

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I started using drugs at the age of 24, when I was in college. There were no prerequisites for this: I could boast of excellent friends, a good job. During my senior year, I made a friend who used heroin. At our first meeting, she, of course, did not tell me about this, and I found out that she was a drug addict about two months later. The friend did not use it intravenously, but smoked it. At that moment, there was too much on my shoulders, and I was tired. I lived far from my relatives, supported myself financially, studied and worked. Plus for some reason I was tormented by a feeling of loneliness. And when a friend lit heroin in front of me, I also wanted to try it. She seemed so cheerful, calm, carefree to me, looking at her, I decided that the drug would help get rid of problems and feelings of isolation. And this was the first time I tried it.

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Yulia Ulyanova was an alcoholic for 14 years. She told Afisha Daily about how people actually become alcohol addicts, whether it is possible to completely stop drinking, and why it is most difficult to forgive yourself.

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Hello. My story began in the fall of 2009. At this time, my husband became addicted to drugs, but I didn’t know it yet. At that time we had been married for 7 years. The relationship began to deteriorate, there were frequent quarrels, scandals, I thought that he had stopped loving me. At the end of winter, he started having problems at work. He had his own cafe and his landlords kicked him out. At the beginning of March, he said that he wanted to go to a sanatorium for a week, that he was losing his nerves, and at the clinic where he was being seen, the therapist gave him the address of some sanatorium. And at one fine moment my husband came, packed his things and left for the sanatorium. He said he would be back in a week. To say that I was shocked is to say nothing. At this time, it was necessary to remove all equipment from the cafe. In response to my requests to wait and go to bed later, he said that this was more important to him. When he arrived at the sanatorium, he called and said that everything was fine, he had arrived and was going to bed. I couldn’t reach him all week; the phone was turned off. I was all on edge, I didn’t understand what was happening. During this week I called all my relatives and friends, no one knew where exactly he went. I went to the clinic to find out which doctor was and where he was referred. I was told that the last time he was in the clinic was in early January. All that was left was to wait. He arrived joyful and satisfied on Sunday evening. I no longer had the strength or desire to find out anything, to understand anything, I did not want to tolerate such an attitude. When I asked him to get out of my life, he was very surprised. Within a week, he packed his things and moved in with his parents.

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I want to tell you about my love affair with alcohol. Thanks to him, my third marriage is collapsing!!!)) My first husband and I drank together, we drank only beer, we didn’t look at the temperature. Five seven liters on weekends and 3-4 liters on weekdays. We lived for 10 years and somehow we managed to stop at the end of the marriage, or rather, I almost succeeded. I quit and my husband still drank two liters every day, but in a smaller dose. And then my friend arrives from Moscow and ... I went into a break. Result: fight with husband, hysteria and divorce.

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The first day of autumn in Bitsevsky Park. An edge with a barbecue, laid tables, but no alcohol. A DJ plays trendy music for two hundred guests. Everyone who wanders into the light is given a wooden keychain with “17 NA” burnt on it. There is no conspiracy theory - this is the logo of the group “Semnashka” (from drug hospital No. 17, where, in fact, meetings are held) of the international community “Narcotics Anonymous” (NA). The forest banquet was held in honor of the fourth anniversary of the group's creation. The Izvestia correspondent came here to talk with a drug addict who quit more than two years ago. Mikhail, a cheerful, cheerful man of about 50 years old, smiles widely. The only thing that gives him away as a former drug addict is his slightly reddish, as if inflamed, hands. The eyes are clear, open, alive. He told Izvestia his story very frankly. He did this with one goal - to convey to those who are now suffering from addiction that it is possible to get out of this hell. In Narcotics Anonymous, which helped Michael stay alive, this is called “bringing the message of recovery.” (The specifics of the interlocutor’s speech style are preserved.)

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The first time I tried alcohol was when I was 13. I think it was beer. My classmate and I bought two bottles with pocket money and drank them right on the embankment. We were very exhausted in the sun, and we barely made it home (we didn’t have a few rubles left for the tram). I can’t say that I liked this experience, but I was left with a feeling of my own adulthood and coolness: this is what I am, buying beer for myself.

“We met through friends. I was a student, he was a recent graduate of Moscow State University. I knew my friends for many years; we once studied at the same school. An ordinary intelligent Moscow company. They sang songs, drank wine - like everyone else, it seems to me. He was handsome, sang well, joked wittily - the life of the party. I was very flattered that he paid attention to me. The romance started quickly and developed very rapidly. We walked around the city, he sang “The Beatles” to me, read some poetry, told stories about Moscow streets. It was interesting and not boring to be with him: bright, smart and at the same time gentle and kind. I fell madly in love, of course.

Literally three months later we decided to move in together. Each of us lived with our parents, we didn’t want to move in with one of them, we were eager to start our own lives, to create a “real family.” Everything was new, everything was wonderful.

We rented an apartment and moved in together. One day we passed by the registry office, he jokingly suggested we come in, I supported the joke - they submitted an application. How long had we known each other by then, six months? Maybe a little more. It seemed to me then that this was how it should be, that I had finally met “my man,” and my grandfather actually went to get married 2 weeks after we met. And then he lived for 50 years in love and harmony.

They played a wedding. After the wedding, his friend came to us from another city, then I saw my husband very drunk for the first time. But I didn’t attach any importance, well, who among us hasn’t gotten drunk?

We started to live. The first months were very good. About two months after the wedding, I became pregnant. We were happy, he spoiled me with goodies, took me to the doctor, and attached a photo of the ultrasound above my desk. At the same time, he drank, but it didn’t bother me very much. Well, a bottle of beer in the evening. He's not lying around drunk! Well, a jar of cocktail. The fact that he drank at least something every day for some reason didn’t really bother me then.

About two months before giving birth, he went on his first binge.

I was completely unprepared for this. All my life I believed that drinking bouts happen to “declassed elements,” it’s the “hanuriks under the fence” who go on drinking bouts and “eat vodka.” But this cannot happen to me, to my loved ones, to my friends, in our environment, because it cannot, period. We are educated, intelligent people, our parents are educated, intelligent people, what a binge. However, it was he. For six days my husband lay there, drinking and vomiting. He didn't do anything else. I didn’t know what to do, so I obediently brought him “for a hangover” (he said that otherwise he would die, that now 50 grams of a hangover and not a drop more). I brought him food to his bed, which he did not eat. Could not. Huge as an airship, with her pregnant belly, she went to the local supermarket and bought beer, which she herself had never drunk, burning with humiliating shame. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone about this, to consult with someone: I told all my friends and family that I had an ideal marriage, a wonderful husband and that in general it was not life, but a fairy tale. And here it is. Gradually, he himself came out of his drinking bout - he simply could not drink anymore. I really wanted to forget the past week. And we all pretended that nothing had happened.

Then the child was born. I was writing my thesis and working from home, the child slept poorly, and so did we. Started to quarrel with my husband. A couple of weeks later he went on a drinking binge again. I was horrified. I didn’t give him a drop of alcohol to help him get drunk, but he was still drunk every day. When he finally sobered up, about five days later, I started a scandal and a “big conversation.”

He swore and swore that this was the last time. That it's just the stress of the last few months. I believed it. But it was impossible to believe. Thus began all hell.

Our life followed a repeating scenario: for a week he drank continuously, practically lying down, getting up only to go to the toilet. Then for several days I didn’t drink at all, as far as I could tell, but I remained half-drunk. Then he started drinking a little every other day. Then every day. Then I started drinking again. Such an endless circle of 3-5 weeks.

I became close to his older sister. She told me that his father was actually an alcoholic, and that his family tried their best to hide it from me. That my husband has been drinking for a long time, and his family held their breath when we met - on the wave of romantic happiness, he almost didn’t drink. They only prayed that I would not find out about this before the wedding, and then they pressured us to give birth to a child (or preferably three and as soon as possible). That his second sister moved out of home at the age of 17, just so as not to live in an apartment with two alcoholics.

I loved him, I loved our daughter, and for a long time the very thought of divorce seemed blasphemous to me. He is sick, I told myself, he is unhappy, who will I be if I leave him in such a situation? I have to save him. And I tried to save. Somewhere after the third or fourth binge, I began to insist that we see a narcologist. I had heard that there was coding and stitching, but I didn’t really know what it was. But I knew for sure that alcoholism is a disease, which means it needs to be treated. Why after the third or fourth? Because I was in denial. I was hiding from reality. I didn't believe that all this was happening to me. I thought it was my imagination. That this cannot happen, because it can never happen. But when something that cannot be happens for the third time in a row, you have to admit that it exists.

He was not violent or aggressive, he did not try to hit me. He was a quiet alcoholic, he just lay there and suffered. When he was drunk, he started saying all sorts of things. Either he said that I was the dream of his whole life, or, on the contrary, that he hated me. Either he said that he would die soon, or that he was a martyr. That I'm a martyr. He was tossed emotionally from one extreme to another. And I was thrown along with him.

I never drank with him. I was a nursing mother, a proper girl. It didn’t even occur to me to join his drinking sessions. I was looking for a way out. First on the Internet. I read articles by narcologists, I sat on a forum where there were relatives of alcoholics. There I learned that there are special groups. Like Alcoholics Anonymous, only for relatives. Called to support, prevent people from falling into codependency, and give them the opportunity to speak out. And I went to such a group.

The group consisted of several sad women and a curator. Also sad. The first thing the curator said when opening the group was “An alcoholic will never stop being an alcoholic.” And then the participants began to speak. There were a few simple rules: do not interrupt, do not criticize, and do not judge at all. Speak one at a time. Do not demand to speak from someone who is not ready. And the women spoke. And I listened to them and was internally horrified. Their alcoholic relatives - husbands, fathers, brothers, mothers - were not the scum of society. They were ordinary people - the kind of people I used to respect. Professor at some institute. Railway engineer. School teacher. Even a doctor. And they all drank.

At the same time, I was looking for a narcologist. The girls from the cheerleading group were skeptical about this idea. Narcologists did not help them. They told all sorts of horror stories (I’m not sure from my own experience) about the terrible side effects of stitching and coding, how people became disabled or even died. But I was persistent. I believed that since alcoholism is a disease, then a doctor is needed. Finally, based on a recommendation, I found a narcologist. First I went to see him myself. The first thing he told me was: “Alcoholics are never ex-alcoholics, do you understand that?” An alcoholic may not drink. But he will remain an alcoholic forever.” Then we talked for probably an hour. He said what I already knew: that in order for there to be a result, the patient’s desire is needed, that his strong will is needed, that if he doesn’t want, nothing will work out, no matter what. And he also said that you cannot “stitch up” a person who has alcohol in his blood. He must not drink for at least three days.

And I began to persuade my husband to get stitches. Beg. Threaten. Beg. Blackmail a child. He said: “Yes, yes, yes.” But he drank. And he lied. We began to have stashes in our apartment. I hid the money. He is bottles. I took everything from him, every penny - he went to the grocery store and got drunk with local drunks. If I didn’t take it away, he drank it all away, and told me that he had lost it or been robbed. And again this cycle: binge - a few days of respite - binge. Usually, at the end of the binge, when he felt very physically ill, he agreed to get stitches. But I never lasted three days without a drop of alcohol.

Over time, he had strange attacks when he suddenly turned pale and gasped for air. One day he carried the child to wash himself and suddenly fell. I was nearby, picked up the baby and looked in horror at my husband, who literally slid down the wall. He didn’t let me call a doctor, he was afraid that I would “stitch him up” forcibly. After some time he recovered on his own.

I was clutching at straws. In the support group, women often shared all sorts of folk remedies that “would definitely help.” Once there they told me about such a “panacea”: you take, they say, a teaspoon of ammonia, dissolve it in a glass of water, let it drink in one gulp - and that’s it, as if by hand. Will never drink. I came home and told my husband everything honestly. “You,” I say, “want to quit drinking?” But you can't? But there is a super remedy. Drink ammonia and never again! “We were young and stupid. He obediently took the glass from me and took a couple of sips. His eyes widened, he coughed terribly, and collapsed as if he had been knocked down. While I was dialing the ambulance number with trembling hands, he woke up, took the phone from me and said: “If you want to kill me, find a simpler way or something.” And, of course, he didn’t stop drinking.

I began to blame myself. I remembered him - a cheerful joker - before the wedding. I'm probably such a bad wife that he drinks. I walked around in a robe, I didn’t put on makeup (let me remind you - a baby, a diploma, a job), I didn’t do this and that. I ate myself. I somehow forgot that before meeting me he was already an alcoholic. And that for one or two weeks between binges he continued to be the life of the party. And only I saw what was happening there at home.

About a year later, I finally admitted that I needed to get a divorce. While the child is still small, he does not understand and does not repeat after his father. I finally allowed myself to admit that I had done everything I could think of and nothing worked. And that I destroy myself every day, that all that remains of the me I used to be - easy-going, cheerful, beautiful, self-confident - is a pale, unhappy shadow, always tearful and terribly tired. We talked and seemed to agree on everything. I only asked that he come sober when he visits the child, nothing more. He went to his parents.

I cried for almost a day, I felt terribly sorry for myself, my child, my beautiful dream (as it seemed to me, embodied in this marriage), my husband, who would be completely lost without me. The next day he returned and said that he couldn’t live without us and was ready to try everything all over again. And I, of course, accepted it. We even went to a narcologist together. But nothing changed: the next day the husband got drunk again. I kicked him out again, a week later he came back again. We tried to “start over” three more times. After the third time, he went on a binge for two weeks, I packed my things, my child, and left the rented apartment to live with my mother. After some time, we divorced through court.

The first year and a half after the divorce I was terrified. I couldn’t even watch a movie in which the characters drank something, I felt physically ill. I told my friends not to drink in front of me. Gradually this faded away. Three years later I was even able to drink a glass of wine myself. But I still definitely smell this smell - the smell of binge drinking and the smell of an alcoholic: it cannot be confused with anything, neither with the consequences of violent drinking, nor with illness. I sometimes run into people on the subway—decently dressed, clean-shaven—and I recoil, knowing for sure that this is it. In front of me is an alcoholic. And I feel fear. I once became friends with a woman who also had experience living with an alcoholic, and she told me that she felt the same way. It's forever. Alcoholics are never ex-alcoholics. And the wives of alcoholics, apparently, too.”

– this is a terrible disease, and when a woman drinks, it’s doubly worse. Many people say that female alcoholism is incurable. An old friend told me a real-life incident on this topic. Narration from her perspective.

Drunk happiness

Seven years ago, my brother's ex-wife committed suicide. Kostya got married while a student. Then Julia seemed to us a modest and well-mannered girl. A year and a half after the wedding, the young couple had a son.

And then our daughter-in-law seemed to be replaced. Julia changed beyond recognition: she argued with her husband for no reason, she started smoking and swearing. But the worst thing is that she started drinking. And when a woman drinks, it’s a lost cause.

We wanted to help Yulia get out of this swamp. But she took any attempts to talk and get her into a good clinic with hostility.

She stopped getting along with her husband and taking care of the child. From a well-mannered shy woman, she turned into an evil fury. Constantine became gloomier and gloomier every day. The nephew began to turn from an active, cheerful child into a downtrodden and unsociable animal.

Parents remained neutral for a long time: interfering in the affairs of a young family is “adding fuel to the fire.” But they couldn’t turn a blind eye to everything that was happening in their son’s family. At first my father said: “Don’t touch them! Kostya is not small, he will deal with his wife himself!”

But looking at my unfortunate grandson became more and more painful every day. The grandmother had more than once noticed bruises and abrasions all over her grandson’s body. And this has already crossed all boundaries! When asked what happened, he answered: “I just hit myself.”

The parents no longer had the strength to look at all this. They presented the young people with a fact: “Live as you want, and we will take our grandson with us!” Since then, Roman began to live in our house, because in a series of constant scandals, the young people had no time for him.

After a year of regular hassle from his wife, Konstantin finally decided to divorce. Shortly before this, Yulia was fired from her job for systematic absenteeism and heavy drinking. Now nothing stopped her from whileing away her time in the company of the “green serpent.” Sometimes she went on a spree and did not appear at home for several days.

Divorce

Then there was a divorce proceeding and a court decision, according to which Roman was left with his father. And his now ex-wife was deprived of maternal rights.

About once every six months, the grief-stricken mother still remembered that she had a son. A dejected woman with a swollen face from endless drinking and a black eye came to visit.

No one forbade Roma to communicate with her. A drinking woman, but still a mother. One day, neighbor Katya, who was friends with Yulia, broke the news. Julia, no matter what, is going to pick up Romka and take him to his mother in a neighboring village. This seemed unlikely, but one day my mother-in-law heard Yulia talking to her son:

“Baby,” she said, breathing fumes on the boy, “you love your mother, don’t you?” Love it! Let's go to my grandmother's village, there is nature, clean air, normal people will surround you there. Not like these... Creatures!

At that moment, the mother-in-law ran into the room and kicked this drunkard out the door. No, no one was very worried, because it was clear that no one would give the boy to her. It was just that Romka, after meeting with his mother, took a very long time to come to his senses - he locked himself in the room and cried. Sometimes all day long.

Big problems

One day Yulia came without warning, she literally burst into the apartment.

- Romka, quickly get ready, we’re getting out of here immediately! I have big problems - the woman was rushing around the apartment in a panic, collecting her son’s things.

The boy watched with fear on his face as his drunken mother stuffed his blouse into some dirty bag. He throws his shoes and his favorite toy in there. With tears in his eyes, Roma rushed to his grandmother and clung to her feet.

“He won’t go anywhere with you!” Well, get out, otherwise I'll call the police now! And don’t you dare approach him again until you come to your senses! – the mother-in-law barked at her daughter-in-law.

Just at that moment Kostya returned from work. He tried to explain to his ex-wife as delicately as possible that she no longer had rights to the child. So the court decided that they love Roma here and will not give her up even at gunpoint.

Kostya is generally a very calm and self-controlled person, and only a quarrelsome, uncontrollable woman could lead him to divorce. The scandal lasted for about an hour, the ex-daughter-in-law threw mud at everyone around her and threatened to kidnap the child. Leaving the apartment with nothing, Yulia turned around:

- Damn you all, you bastards! I will even get you from the other world! I’ll die, but I won’t give you life! You even bribed the court, you creatures!

And you know, Yulia kept her word... A week later she hanged herself. This outcome surprised no one. It happens quite often when a woman drinks.

Later repentance

Since then, strange things began to happen in the ex-husband’s house: icons fell from the walls, the lights turned on by themselves. But the worst thing is that Roma saw his mother every night and ran screaming to his father. Climbing his head under the blanket and trembling with horror, he pointed to the wall and said: “There’s mom!” There’s a dead mother standing there in the corner!”

It got to the point that the boy was afraid to close his eyes and be alone in the room even during the day. The parents consecrated the house and turned to local healers for help, but everything was in vain. This whole nightmare ended after Roma and his father went to the cemetery.

Frankly, at first everyone was against it, but the boy persistently asked Kostya to take him with him. At the cemetery, Roma asked to be left alone.

He pressed himself against the photograph on the cross and whispered something for a long time, wiping away his childish tears with his sleeve. What exactly the son said, no one knows to this day - he flatly refuses to talk about it.

But the point is that the ghost of the former daughter-in-law did not appear again. The situation at home also returned to normal, and Roma stopped being afraid and crying at night, and slowly he began to return to normal life.

Seven years have passed since then. From time to time, Roman asks his father to take him to Yulia’s grave, which he never refuses. What can you do if the child wants to talk to his mother? And her sinful soul probably wants to communicate with her son, whom she traded for a bottle. Maybe later, but repentance.

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