Living with the Shadow for 60 Years

I’ve been living with alcohol for 60 years, though not in the way you might think. I wasn’t an alcoholic all that time, but alcohol was always there, lurking in the corners of life, shaping moments big and small. My earliest memory of it is from when I was about five. My dad came home one day, stumbling in, barfing on the floor while my mom screamed. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good. He was angry at times too—once, he almost hit my mom and me out of sheer rage. Thankfully, it was just an almost. And then he was gone. He’d come back, then leave again. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I pieced it together: he was running off to drink. Even with a new wife, he’d slip away to a bar. That wasn’t great, but at least I learned something from him, though I didn’t know it at the time.

As I grew older, I couldn’t help but wonder if I might one day end up like him. Somewhere in my genes, there was this ticking alcoholic time bomb, waiting for the right—or the wrong—moment to go off. I’ve read the studies. They say alcoholism is hereditary, and that fact has always stayed with me, like a shadow following me wherever I go. I’ve worried about it for as long as I can remember, especially when I’d see flashes of his habits reflected in my own.

When I reached adulthood, the 1980s came calling, and they brought a drinking culture with them. It was normal—almost expected—to have a couple of drinks at lunch, a few more at happy hour, and cap the day with one last drink before bed. My friends did it, and so did I. For a while, it felt like no big deal. But after a few years, I woke up one day and realized I was drinking way too much. I decided to quit cold turkey. That worked—for a while.

Then I discovered clubbing. The flashing lights, the dancing, and yes, the drinking. I was young, so I thought I could handle it. Five, six, sometimes seven watered-down drinks on a night out didn’t seem like a problem when I was sweating it out on the dance floor. And since I was only going out two or three nights a week, I told myself it wasn’t too bad. I danced, I drank, and I thought I was invincible. But time has a way of proving us wrong.

As the years rolled on, I got married. My ex-wife wasn’t much of a drinker, and that was a blessing. We’d share a glass of wine now and then, but for the most part, I stayed away from alcohol during those years. When we divorced, though, I found myself back at the clubs, falling into old habits. The cycle began again: drink too much, realize it’s bad, quit for a while, then start up again. It wasn’t that I craved alcohol itself—I just enjoyed the experience. I liked tasting different drinks (except vodka; that’s where I draw the line), and I liked the social aspect of it all. But every now and then, I’d quit, knowing deep down it wasn’t doing me any favors.

Now here I am, with an AARP card in my wallet and more years behind me than ahead. No, the card doesn’t come with discounts on drinks, and even if it did, I think I’d pass. I’ve come to realize that my liver, bless its weary soul, could’ve used a little more TLC over the decades. But it’s not my liver I’m worried about anymore—it’s my brain. The thought of dementia or Alzheimer’s scares me to death. I don’t want to be a shell of myself, sitting in some nursing home with nothing but fog where my thoughts used to be. I’ve read the studies, and I know alcohol won’t do my brain any favors.

Sure, people like to say red wine is good for you. Well, it might be less bad, but let’s not kid ourselves—it’s not good for you. And yes, there’s value in socializing, in relaxing with a drink to lower your stress. But moderation is the key. Once a week, maybe, or for a special occasion—not every day. Not like I used to.

Sixty years later, I’m still here. I’ve made it this far, but I can’t help but wish someone had handed me this story 40 years ago. Maybe it would’ve saved me some trouble. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t have listened. Life has a funny way of teaching us, but only if we’re ready to learn.

Additional Notes:

Recent studies linking alcohol consumption to Alzheimer’s and dementia have deeply concerned you.
- The fear of losing cognitive function and becoming dependent in a nursing home is far more frightening to you than dying from liver issues.
- You recognize that alcohol won’t help preserve brain health and could make things worse.
While you acknowledge that some older individuals seem to maintain their cognitive abilities despite drinking, you value your brain highly and are determined to avoid harming it further.
Your perspective:
- If you truly value your brain, you should minimize alcohol consumption as much as possible.
- The idea that red wine is “good for you” is misleading—it’s less harmful than other drinks but still not beneficial.
- Alcohol can have some positive social effects, such as reducing stress and enhancing socializing, but this should be done in strict moderation.
- Drinking should be limited to once a week or special occasions—not a daily habit.
Reflecting on your life, you feel a sense of gratitude for still being here but also regret that this wisdom wasn’t imparted to you 40 years ago. You wish someone had written something like this to guide you earlier.