Undiagnosed Alcoholic?

Age 19

I wasn’t an alcoholic, but drinking alcohol always helped me with being more confident and sociable.

Age 20

The envy, rage, and feeling of inferiority I felt almost made me explode with rage right there at the party, but instead I went to the bathroom and vented to myself in the mirror of how much I hate Vincent and wanted to kill him. I drank a lot more wine that night, pouring myself glass after glass. By the time Vincent arrived after his party at Leo’s, I greeted him with drunken contempt, and drank even more wine. I drank too much.  When I got home, I began to cry because of all the emotions I experienced that night.

Age 21

I even downed an entire bottle of wine, and got so drunk that I spilled my wine all over my laptop, permanently destroying it. I soaked my pillow with tears as I drifted off to sleep in my lonely bed.


I drank some of my mother’s delicious wine until I was too buzzed to think about how much fun everyone else my age was having on that night.


Thankfully, I was a good liar.


If I cannot join them, I will rise above them; and if I cannot rise above them, I will destroy them.  I proclaimed to them all that I will never go for a night out in London unless I had a beautiful girlfriend on my arm.  I drank a whole bottle of wine that night.


I was too nervous to go out there sober, so I bought a bottle of vodka and took a few shots to garner enough courage to walk out at such an hour. I had taken one too many, for by the time I reached Del Playa Street, my head was clouded with drunkenness. At the start, it benefited me greatly. I saw lots of good looking popular kids socializing in groups all over the place, and if I wasn’t drunk it would have intimidated me too much. I was so drunk that I walked right into a wild house party that was taking place on Del Playa. They had a DJ playing annoying hip hop music that all the young people liked these days, and there was a ping pong table set up where lots of popular kids were playing “beer pong”, a crude drinking game.  There were about one hundred people at that party, and everyone was socializing with a group of friends except for me. I walked around in my drunken confidence for a few moments, helped myself to the beer they had, and tried to act like a normal party-goer. I soon became frustrated that no one was paying any attention to me, particularly the girls. I saw girls talking to other guys who looked like obnoxious slobs, but none of them showed any interest in me. As my frustration grew, so did my anger….. My drunken state got the better of me, and I almost fell over to the floor after a few minutes of this. They said something along the lines that I was very drunk and that I needed to get some water, so I angrily left them and went out to the front yard…. To calm down, I climbed up onto a wooden ledge that bordered the street and plunged down on one of the chairs there. I looked down at all of
them, and in my drunken carelessness, extended my arm out and pretended to shoot them all, laughing giddily as I did it. Eventually, some partiers climbed up onto the ledge. They were all obnoxious, rowdy boys whom I’ve always despised. A couple of pretty girls came up and talked to them, but not to me. They all started socializing right next to me, and none of the girls paid any attention to me. I rose from my chair and tried to act arrogant and cocky toward them, throwing insults at everyone. They only laughed at me and started insulting me back. That was the last straw, I had taken enough insults that night. A dark, hate-fueled rage overcame my entire being, and I tried to push as many of them as I could from the 10-foot ledge. My main target was the girls. I wanted to punish them for talking to the obnoxious boys instead of me. It was one of the most foolish and rash things I ever did, and I almost risked everything in doing it, but I was so drunk with rage that I didn’t care. I failed to push any of them from the ledge, and the boys started to push me, which resulted in me being the one to fall onto the street. When I landed, I felt a snap in my ankle, followed by a stinging pain. I slowly got up and found that I couldn’t even walk. I had to stumble, and stumble I did. I tried to get away from there as fast as I could…. At that point, I was so drunk that I forgot where the party was, and ended up walking onto the front yard of the house next to it, demanding to know who took my sunglasses. The people in this house must have been friends with the ones I previously fought with, for they greeted me with vicious hostility. They called me names like “faggot” and “pussy”, typical things those types of scumbags would say. A whole group of the obnoxious brutes came up and dragged me onto their driveway, pushing and hitting me. I wanted to fight and kill them all. I managed to throw one punch toward the main attacker, but that only caused them to beat me even more. I fell to the ground where they started kicking me and punching me in the face. Eventually, some other people from the street broke up the fight. I managed to have the strength to stand up and stagger away.  It was the first time in my life that I had been truly beaten up physically to the point where my face was bruised up. I had suffered a lot of bullying in my life, but most of it wasn’t physical. I had never been beaten and humiliated that badly. Everyone in Isla Vista saw what happened, and it was truly horrific.
The worst part of this whole ordeal was not getting beaten up, oh no. It was the fact that no one showed any concern. There was only one group who helped me to the end of Del Playa, but after that they abandoned me. Not one girl offered to help me as I stumbled home with a broken leg, beaten and bloody. If girls had been attracted to me, they would have offered to walk me to my room and take care of me. They would have even offered to sleep with me to make me feel better. But no, not one girl showed an ounce of concern for me. They didn’t care. No one cared about me. I was all alone….   I broke down in anguish and wailed in agony, crying and crying until I passed out in my bed, all alone.  When I woke up the next morning, my leg was in absolute agony. It was purple and swollen, and I could not even stumble anymore. I had to crawl. Being fully sober, all of my anxiety came back. It became very clear to me what had happened. I felt enraged by everything, but also fearful that I might get in trouble. I did try to push girls off of a ledge and threatened to kill all of those people, which could implicate me. I had to concoct a fairly altered story to explain to the police, who would inevitably have to interview me once I got to the hospital and reported my injury….. Two police did interview me, and I told them that those boys deliberately pushed me off of the ledge after I acted “cocky” towards them. I didn’t mention the girls at all. I expressed to the police of my wishes that they should all be punished for this. The police then went to interview them, and they had their own version of the story. Since there was no actual evidence, the whole case was shortly dismissed.


Why do things have to be this way? I’m sure that is the question everyone will be asking after the Day of Retribution is over. They will all be asking why. Indeed, why? That is the question I’ve had for everyone throughout all my years of suffering. Why was I condemned to live a life of misery and worthlessness while other men were able to experience the pleasures of sex and love with women? Why do things have to be this way? I ask all of you.

From My Twisted World – The Story of Elliot Rodger

Sounds like the typical stories and complaints heard at AA meetings.  So sad.  If only the boy had discovered AA, he might have realized that his real problem was powerlessness to alcohol.  He would have learned that he had Alcoholism — the dreaded disease that makes you drink and get drunk and do naughty things until falling asleep — sometimes even at the expense of your work life and relationships.  Perhaps he would have had a successful career in the rooms.  He would have fit right in with the other good liars.  Maybe even he’d have met a girl and convinced her she was powerless too.

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3 thoughts on “Undiagnosed Alcoholic?”

  1. If you label yourself “alcoholic,” you actually diminish your chances of recovery. There are much better ways of getting sober and staying that way than through Alcoholics Anonymous.

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