Desert Island

Alcohol is as old as time.  When that first person stepped on that first grape the first alcoholic was born.  Since then, alcohol has been engrained in our society, in our very survival.  

Up until modern times, public water sources were commonly tainted with cholera and dysentery, eliminating water as a viable source of sustinance.  The alcohol content in wine, along with the distillation process of beer and liquor, made for a sterile environment; impossible for bacteria to survive.

Mankind had two choices:  Die at age 20 of cholera and dysentery, or die at age 40 of liver failure.  Many chose the latter.  Those who had a low tolerance for alcohol died at an early age.  So who was left standing?  The drunks!

We are the end result of a long line of alcoholics.  The survivors!

Fortunately, we live in a day and age where the drinking water is safe.  More so, we live at a time where there is hope.  Only over the last 70 years has recovery become available.  Up until then, people just suffered with their disease; incurable, miserable, and hopeless.

So, why do it?  Why put yourself through such despair? 

Whether it's alcohol, drugs, or nicotine, addiction can only be described as a physical hunger.  If you were stranded on a deserted island and starving to death, you would do anything to get a hold of the nutrients that your body needed.  If that meant getting on all fours and sucking insects out of the dirt, you would do it.  If it meant survival, you would do it.  

I’m not sure how it works, but substance abuse messes with your head in much the same way.  Somehow your body convinces your brain that, like food and water, it absolutely requires that substance (i.e. alcohol, drugs, nicotine) for survival.  So much so that a person can die from detoxification, just as they would from malnutrition or dehydration.  

We addicts will go to any lengths to obtain our high.  We're literally starving to death on our own island of despair, surrounded by the waters of society.  There's no low too low.  It's simply a matter of time before we hit the bottommost depths of incomprehensible demoralization.  We have no choice.  It's a matter of survival.  Or so we think.