My roommate is an interesting guy. Love the guy like a brother, and tried to be there for him through a variety of trials and tribulations. I’ve detailed them in threads I’ve started, and shared some in other, related posts.
Earlier this year, he had some health issues brought on partially by stress, and partially because of how he abuses his body. He went to see the doctor and found out his liver enzymes (or something like that) were 10x the normal level. At the time, he was told that he couldn’t drink ever again. Through this process, it came out that he had a bottle of vodka in his room, and would self-medicate at 3 am to help him sleep. (3 or so shots)
While he was doing his detox, he was surprisingly good about abstaining from alcohol, and he was hitting the gym regularly. Basically, was on his way to becoming a whole other person, and he looked… healthier, for lack of a better word.
Well, a few months ago, somehow, the doctor told him he could drink again (in moderation), and up until the past week, he’s been good for the most part.
He came home Sunday night, a drunken mess. Crying and mumbling about how he lost one of his/our best friends, but was fairly incoherent and unwilling to discuss the details. Went to his room for a while, and then went out again, and I went to bed before he returned to the apartment.
Also, I have to add that he hates his job. He doesn’t work a regular 9-5, it doesn’t pay well, and part of his job requires him to be in front of bars on weekends, so after he’s done for the day, he would usually go in for a drink, contributing to his problem. For those reasons, and more, he’s been trying to find a new job.
A friend said he knew of an opening with his office, and scheduled an interview for my roommate on Tuesday morning.
Monday, after work, the roommate asks if I want to join for a Happy Hour. I stop by for 5 minutes, mainly to say hi to a few people, and as I head home, I ask if he’ll be home soon. He says yes. He comes home in a drunken stupor around 11 pm that night.
Tuesday, I don’t hear anything from him, until I come home from work and see him on the steps of our apartment. He went to the bar, realized he was too drunk to drive, and took a cab home, forgetting that he left his apartment keys in his car at the bar.
After I let him in, I ask about the interview, and he tells me it went horribly and that he doesn’t think he’ll get the job and that it isn’t a good fit. I ask why, and he gives a reason that just doesn’t make sense, re: how they handle compensation. He gets weepy-drunk about some other personal matters, and goes to his bedroom and passes out.
I then talked to the contact, and he told me that the roommate said he had an important meeting during the scheduled time for the interview, and asked if he could reschedule.
To confirm, I talk to another one of the roommate’s best friends, and he tells me that the roommate had told him that he was at the bar at 10 am.
Eventually, the roommate wakes up and I ask him if he really went to the interview. He admits that, no, he didn’t, because he has anxiety issues. Eventually, he goes back to bed, and I stay up to watch some tv.
I finally go to bed, turning off the tv, lights, etc., and ten minutes after I crawl into bed, I decide to get a late-night snack. I see him in the kitchen, doing a shot of rum.
There’re more details (obviously) and I’ll be happy to elaborate if need be, but his drinking has gotten to the point to where he’s choosing to drink rather than attempt to improve a situation where he is extremely unhappy.