I Drank Alcohol Before I Was 18
Eighteen is the legal drinking age in my country. It also seems to be the most commonly accepted drinking age at this point in time. That being said; I started drinking way before I ever reached eighteen.
Any child of a parent that drinks will naturally have a curiosity about alcohol. That curiosity was answered when I was allowed the occasional cup of wine once in a blue moon at family gatherings. That seemed to be acceptable enough, but it didn’t stay that way.
As my mother’s drinking spiraled out of control, I gained better insight into what exactly alcohol does. So by the time the divorce was finalized and my mother left, I eagerly accepted the drinks she offered. The arrangement was that I would visit her only on weekends. She would buy me a case (24 bottles) of cider every time and I had only between Saturday morning and Sunday evening to finish it all - an impossible task to set before an eleven year old.
After a while I realized that I couldn’t possibly finish all the liquor my mother kept buying me, so I snuck the leftovers to school with me. I would bunk certain classes, sit in the washroom, and drink instead... I noticed that it always made me sad though. So I elected the one or two friends I had at the time to skip class and drink with me.
That was only the beginning though. By the time I was thirteen, I was drinking in nightclubs in my pajamas. The bouncers either didn’t realize my age or they simply didn’t care. By the time I was fourteen, I was hosting house parties where kids would get so drunk that they would inevitably end up hurting themselves. No one batted an eyelash.
I grew up too early and too fast in many ways; this is just another one of them. I don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing - just the inescapable result of having little to no parental guidance as a child. Drinking at that age didn’t affect my life in any way whatsoever, thus I don’t see it as an issue. It’s merely an experience - as blue as any.
Any child of a parent that drinks will naturally have a curiosity about alcohol. That curiosity was answered when I was allowed the occasional cup of wine once in a blue moon at family gatherings. That seemed to be acceptable enough, but it didn’t stay that way.
As my mother’s drinking spiraled out of control, I gained better insight into what exactly alcohol does. So by the time the divorce was finalized and my mother left, I eagerly accepted the drinks she offered. The arrangement was that I would visit her only on weekends. She would buy me a case (24 bottles) of cider every time and I had only between Saturday morning and Sunday evening to finish it all - an impossible task to set before an eleven year old.
After a while I realized that I couldn’t possibly finish all the liquor my mother kept buying me, so I snuck the leftovers to school with me. I would bunk certain classes, sit in the washroom, and drink instead... I noticed that it always made me sad though. So I elected the one or two friends I had at the time to skip class and drink with me.
That was only the beginning though. By the time I was thirteen, I was drinking in nightclubs in my pajamas. The bouncers either didn’t realize my age or they simply didn’t care. By the time I was fourteen, I was hosting house parties where kids would get so drunk that they would inevitably end up hurting themselves. No one batted an eyelash.
I grew up too early and too fast in many ways; this is just another one of them. I don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing - just the inescapable result of having little to no parental guidance as a child. Drinking at that age didn’t affect my life in any way whatsoever, thus I don’t see it as an issue. It’s merely an experience - as blue as any.
