Source: © Mart Production | Pexels
With the influx of media coverage around alcohol usage and its health risks, I thought I would take a look at my addictions and the science behind them. My father was an alcoholic from his adolescence up until the time he was forty. I was twelve and my brother was ten when we had a family meeting. Our parents told us our father was an alcoholic and that he had lost his job as an analyst on Wall St. He’d started attending AA and he wanted me and my brother to go to Alateen meetings.
Before he got sober my father took me to bars on the weekends and ordered Shirley Temples for me. I have vague memories of sitting high up on barstools while groups of men laughed and talked about things I didn’t understand.
Before he got sober, our father took my brother and me to pool halls and taught us how to shoot pool. A tumbler of Johnnie Walker Red always rested on the edge of the table while he showed us how to break and position our fingers to support the cue as we tried to get the balls in the pockets. He bought me and my brother our own pool cues—the kind in two halves that we had to screw and unscrew—and carrying cases.
My first taste of liquor came at a Passover seder when I was nine or ten. My father allowed me to dip a finger in the wine glass and then lick my finger. Once or twice. I don’t recall if he allowed me to ever taste his scotch. I’m sure if he did, I didn’t like it.
A 1994 study found that “young people reared in home environments that have permissive attitudes to alcohol use and who are introduced to alcohol at an earlier age may be more vulnerable to alcohol-related problems in adolescence.” I first tasted beer in high school; I didn’t like it then and I still haven’t developed a taste for it. When I was in college, on Saturday nights we had a keg and chicken wings with blue cheese in my dorm, and despite the peer pressure, I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. Later, when I worked in advertising in the 1980’s my drink of choice was a sea breeze. They went down easily, but I could stop when I wanted.
In a study published in Nature Mental Health in 2023, researchers reported that they had identified genes commonly inherited across addiction disorders.
In New York City in the 1980s, I was introduced to cocaine — and in the secrecy of my apartment, I also discovered cutting while unsuccessfully making my first suicide attempt by trying to cut my wrists. I soon found other substances — and other self-destructive behaviors to feed my possibly addiction-predisposed brain. Cutting, cocaine, Dexedrine, starving myself, and Klonopin — whatever worked at the time, and whatever was available. I possessed a veritable toolbox of unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Today, I enjoy a drink only when I don’t drive to the restaurant, which is rarely the case. I used to love a good Cabernet Sauvignon, but years ago red wine started triggering severe migraines. I never came to appreciate white wine in the same way. Lately, I’ve begun experimenting with various cocktails. One drink gets me buzzed, so that is my limit. Drinking is purely a social activity for me now; there have been a few times when I’ve had a full bottle of wine in my apartment, and I’ve ended up giving it away because it sat there untouched.
I don’t know why or how much of the genes I inherited from my father may have made me prone to addiction, but I also may have inherited genes that have made me prone to depression, as my father was. In a study published in 2011 in Neurospychiatric Genetics — the largest study ever conducted of the heritability of depression and substance use disorders — researchers examining a Mexican-American population found “1) high prevalence rates of major depression and alcohol use disorders in extended families; 2) significant heritability estimates for lifetime diagnoses of major depression and alcohol and drug use disorders; and 3) evidence that common genetic factors influence major depression and alcohol use disorders.”
I consider myself fortunate that my multiple addictions to substances and my tendency toward imnpulsive behaviors are now under control. Is it maturity, or have I simply tired of trying to destroy myself? Both I suspect, but the latter took decades of therapy. My mood is stable as well, thanks to those decades of treatment and the cocktail of antidepressants and the second-generation anti-psychotic I’ve been prescribed for the last 10 years. I’ve accepted that I will be on these medications for the rest of my life.
Still, as I often say, having repeatedly experienced the “black dog” of depression (per Winston Churchill), there are no guarantees. Depression can slither in like a snake on its belly or medications can stop working for no apparent reason. There doesn’t have to be a specific trigger. I’m grateful for each day I live depression and addiction-free.
If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, seek help immediately. For help 24/7 dial 988 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741. To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.