We publish the personal stories of three patients of psychiatrist-narcologist and author of the book “Addiction and Its Man” (published by Alpina Non-Fiction) Marat Aginyan.
“Iwant to be treated by you. Because you’re modern and scientific—it’s clear from your videos,” patients tell me. Yes, I keep up with scientific research in my field of medicine, but my strength is paying utmost attention to what my patients say.
No textbook on addiction will tell me how to understand a specific patient sitting before me in my office. Over twenty years, I’ve heard thousands of stories: simple and complex, evoking sadness and anger, stories that bring tears to the eyes, stories that pierce the heart.
I wrote a book that puts genuine human lives first. I wanted to include the shameful, apologetic voice of addicts in the never-ending conversation of humanity. The book is written. But the stories continue.
Story No. 1
“I look at life through a pint of European ‘tasty’ beer.”
Hi, my name is P, I’m 36 and I’m addicted to alcohol.
If you were a passerby and saw me in a crowd, you’d probably think I’m a successful, youthful-looking man, though I’d probably do well to lose five or ten extra kilos. You’d probably think I’ve had it all, or will soon.
If you work with me, you’ll say I’m a responsive professional, and a real fun guy, ready to support or organize any party. The life of the party, as they say. But sometimes you can’t get through to me on Monday because I’m “too busy,” and on Tuesday you might encounter a fit of aggression from me at a meeting. You’ll think it was a stressful day, and you’ll soon forgive me, because I’ll apologize on Wednesday—then you’ll feel ashamed. And anyway, we’ll hang out at the bar on Thursday, and then on Friday (I don’t go to bars on Wednesdays; I’m not an alcoholic).
If you’re my parents, you live in another city, and when I visit, you’re overjoyed, even though you’re upset that I’m not married yet, and sometimes I come home slightly tipsy. Although, there are also times when I come home very drunk and, getting up in the middle of the night, without waking up or making it to the bathroom, end up wetting the parquet floor of your house. You’ll look at me sheepishly in the morning, but, of course, you’ll forgive me: it happens, someone spills a bad drink at a restaurant.
And yes, you don’t quite understand why I’m so nervous and aggressive when you call on Sunday, but I explain that I’m getting ready for work. And I really am – I’ve been anxious for no apparent reason since 1:00 PM, trying to fall asleep by 9:00 PM so that tomorrow, Monday, I can start moving mountains and living my best life. My attempts to sleep, of course, are unsuccessful – anxiety consumes me until the middle of the night (there’s even a name for it – Sunday night blues).
I’m an alcoholic, not one who’s lying around under a fence, not one who’s scrounging change for a bottle, but one who’s already destroyed and is destroying much of my life, which I view through a pint of “tasty” European beer. Yes, a pint, no “1.5” liters, “shkoliks,” “chekushkas,” or cheap beer—leave that to the alcoholics (I’m not an alcoholic, after all).
What can I say: at 36, I finally realized that I’ve been going downhill, going downhill so fast that if I don’t try to stop now, I’m finished.
Did I really only just realize this, you ask? No, in fact, every addict in acute withdrawal has an epiphany and makes a firm promise to themselves, “never again.” I’ve been doing this since I was 20. But the trick is that addicts don’t keep promises, at all, especially those made to themselves. An addict is always a “Tomorrow Man.” The plot would be similar to “Groundhog Day,” except in this film, the main character simply doesn’t get out of bed because today he needs to rest, and tomorrow—he can move mountains, make millions. But tomorrow.
Marat Aginyan:
“The addict lives in the tomb of the present, a time dead because it has lost its connection with history,” writes Mark Lewis, a neuroscientist with his own brutal experience with addiction. Well, he’s credible. Just like the man who wrote about his own addictive experience. Addiction is a way to quarrel with Time, and therefore with Life.
Story No. 2
“I am an addicted narcologist”
Hi! My name is A. I’d like to share my story. I don’t have anyone in my life I can fully open up to. And what makes it even more difficult is that I’m a psychiatrist and addiction specialist myself. A drug addiction specialist! I first tried alcohol at 16. And as an insecure teenager whose only real experience up until then had been studying, I really enjoyed the feeling of intoxication. I think it all started with that first drink.
I’ve always had a hard time socializing. I was an excellent student at school, and wasn’t bullied much because people had to copy from me, but I didn’t have any close relationships. Or at least no one connected with me. In 10th grade, I fell in with a group of older girls. Cool, smart girls. We’d go to the “What? Where? When?” club on Saturdays, and in the evenings, we’d get drunk and go to a disco. Being drunk made socializing and meeting new people much easier. I met my first boyfriend “thanks” to alcohol. And even then, I looked forward to that Saturday every other six days. Then, naturally, at university, I found “friends with similar interests.”
I graduated from medical university on my fourth try. It’s my greatest shame. You can’t imagine how ashamed I am! I tried to reinstate my free education in a clever way: I took exams, re-enrolled in my first year, and then transferred to the one I’d been expelled from. It worked! In fact, I tried to study, but on top of my addiction, I have ADHD . I had a hard time concentrating in a dorm room with four other people. And in the reading room, which is supposedly quiet, but the movement is still distracting. And with friends who, for some reason, knew how to drink and study at the same time.
After my first expulsion, I got a job as a waitress. Working in a place where alcohol was a natural occurrence, I began drinking more often than on Saturdays.
I tried cannabis twice. After my third expulsion, I moved to Crimea. I worked there as a waiter for a year, drinking slightly less, thanks to the strict work schedule. At 26, I decided I couldn’t wait around all the time; I felt a lack of fulfillment, and needed to re-enroll in university. So, I ended up studying and working nights at a wonderful nightclub called “Kazantip.” Eventually, I graduated and found a new job.
I met my husband at that very same Kazantip, when I was in my sixth year. And then it all started! He’s a great husband, I could only dream of him! But we drink. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, holidays—it’s a regular occurrence. Yes, we don’t have any stories of anyone forgetting something. No one has ever been so drunk that they can barely walk or speak, but they still drink too much. Mostly beer. We’re now on our ninth day of sobriety. Yes, it’s very little. But how difficult! On Saturday, we successfully overcame the craving. A friend was celebrating a birthday out of town, and we came to celebrate. We both held back. I’m lucky to have my husband’s support. Addiction is something you have to accept. And make a choice either towards growth or towards degradation. And the rest of your life without alcohol is very rich, interesting, healthy, painless, and energetic.
Marat Aginyan:
Many addiction specialists abuse alcohol. “Because I’m allowed to,” one of my colleagues tried to joke. A patient left his office, approached me, and whispered, “Your doctor will be drunker than me.” I felt ashamed and tried to say something like, “But he can still be a good doctor. After all, a good oncologist can have cancer , right?” “That’s not the same thing,” the patient replied.
Story No. 3
“I never stopped at one glass.”
I hated alcohol my entire childhood. When I was seven, I’d pour booze down the sink while my drunk parents slept. I also had to hide the knives quickly so I wouldn’t have to hide myself a couple of hours later.
I’ll never drink, I thought, listening to their delusional conversations and praying to God that my drunken dad would go to bed early, stop pestering me with his conversations, and stop hitting my drunken mom. It didn’t help, so I grew up an atheist.
Later, I came to believe in God again, but that didn’t stop me from becoming an alcoholic. I realized this long ago and admitted it after five years of active drinking.
I didn’t have a hangover; when it came to work or alcohol, I always chose work, but when it came to alcohol, I never stopped at just one glass.
Two bottles of wine or three bottles of champagne were my norm. At some point, I realized that alcohol was stubbornly occupying my thoughts. I even began to get angry at my husband if he didn’t support my drinking.
Marat Aginyan:
After hearing hundreds of stories about kids pouring out alcohol and hiding knives, you think, “Well, I’m used to this shit.” But every time, the feelings come rushing back. And you think, “No, I’m not used to it.”
We are all at the mercy of our habits and daily rituals. For some, it’s a morning cup of coffee, a brisk jog, or reading a book before bed—things that bring pleasure, joy, and benefit. But there are other addictions that are detrimental to health and ruin lives. These are the ones that psychiatrist and addiction specialist Marat Aginyan focuses on.
