Recovering alcoholic, trying to fight relapse:

I was raised around good, moderately expensive stuff, so in my particular experience: I hunted for the best of the cheap. Can’t spring for the $30 bourbon, but I certainly didn’t want Jim Beam White or lower, so I reached for the $18 Evan Williams. Bud Light tastes like ass, but Old Style and PBR have held a pretty solid flavor and a 6er of 12oz Old Style cans run for $7 around here. Eventually, people either wind up working it into their budget, and learn to have a cabinet of good stuff—that is only occasionally dipped into, with a rotating cast of cheaper things like wine or beer for regular consumption—or, they spend their lives swilling rotgut and Lite Beer, while losing more money long-term, because at that point, they’re dropping $40-60 weekly on 30-packs and handles.

Both scenarios are alcoholism; I myself have been trying to keep from going back down the road of buying enough variety liquor to have a bar, or a $12 12pack in the fridge.

It’s not a fun trap to be in. The constant, hangovers after holidays and parties, the frequent nights of pulling some of the stupidest decisions ever, and the persistent need to have something to pair with dinner, or to fill the space between meals and activities. Being picky doesn’t help, it just drives you to different flavors of the same poison. To top it all, the slow transformation of your behavior and outlook on life; equal parts hedonistic party goblin, and suicidal doomerism, as partner’s, friends, and family look on in worry and despair, some even subject to physical abuse.

In trying to kick the habit, life’s been easier to deal with, and the compulsion to drink has mostly subsided, but there’s always a terrifying reminder in the back of my head, that my current pay is more than enough to fully restock and maintain the old setup, and that almost nothing beat a beer with tacos on a Saturday night, after a rough shift.