She Strengthens

The Double Life of a High-Functioning Alcoholic

I stare into the mirror, forcing myself to confront the truth: I’m an alcoholic. It’s a label I’ve been trying to come to terms with for months, but it’s hard to reconcile with the polished, put-together person I see staring back at me.

A Jekyll-and-Hyde Existence

By day, I’m a consultant at a prestigious firm, effortlessly juggling meetings and presentations in my crisp business attire. But by night, I transform into a binge drinker, fueled by martinis and wine, until I’m blacked out and barely coherent. It’s a vicious cycle, driven by the illusion that I need to drink to feel complete.

The Facade of Perfection

My job requires me to present a flawless exterior, which I’ve mastered. I can party until the early hours, then scrub away the evidence in the shower, and emerge looking like a perfectly coiffed, high-powered executive. But beneath the surface, I’m a 28-year-old struggling to keep her life together.

The Cost of Addiction

My $137,000 salary disappears quickly, consumed by high rent, extravagant nights out, and a beauty regimen that’s as expensive as it is exhausting. I’ve learned to justify the costs, telling myself that I save money on food since I barely eat, and I don’t need a gym membership since I’m naturally petite. But deep down, I know it’s all just a rationalization for my addiction.

The High-Functioning Lie

I’ve convinced myself that I’m not hitting rock bottom because I can still perform at work, earning raises and promotions despite my destructive habits. But the truth is, I’m trapped in a cycle of addiction, using alcohol to mask my insecurities and fuel my confidence.

The Love-Hate Relationship

Drinking allows me to escape my past, to shed my insecurities and become the life of the party. But it also destroys me, leaving me crying alone on my bed, wondering how I ended up there. The first drink is always tempting, but the consequences are devastating.

A Glimmer of Hope

For now, I can only acknowledge the truth in the mirror, hoping that one day I’ll listen to my own words. Writing it down is a start, but I know I have a long way to go. Maybe, just maybe, my addiction will finally catch up with me, and I’ll be forced to confront the damage it’s causing to my finances, my health, and my very soul. Until then, I’ll keep telling myself the truth, and hoping that someday, I’ll start to believe it.