I knew I was an alcoholic by the age of fifteen or sixteen. I knew because I knew what an alcoholic was; someone who couldn’t stop drinking once they started, or someone who drank even when they knew it was bad for them, or someone who blacked out when they drank, or someone who became someone else when they drank, or someone who craved alcohol nearly all the time - all of those things really, and all of those things were me.  I knew there were two types of alcoholics, one type that didn’t drink all the time but when they did they went nuts on it (binge drinkers), or the other type that couldn’t go without it (daily drinkers).  At times, I’ve been both. 

I was fourteen or fifteen years old when a doctor recommended that I go to rehab. Back then I had only ever really heard of that for junkies or for old people who lived in parks. I thought that you got locked in a room until you ‘dried out’.  I was in my mid teens and that to me was ridiculous. Yes, I had a drinking problem but I didn’t drink every day (even if I did think about it). I was seventeen when I realised that I was an alcoholic but in my mind my drinking was still normal and my life was manageable (no it wasn’t).