By Victor Okonkwo
(CONVERSEER) – Alcohol. That loyal friend who visits quietly, overstays loudly, and leaves you with a bill you do not remember approving.
I met alcohol in college. Like many bad decisions, it arrived disguised as freedom, maturity, and social confidence. The first drink did not taste nice. Nobody tells you that. You learn to drink the way children learn to like vegetables; through pressure and performance.
Soon, alcohol became part of the timetable: lectures during the day and Philosophy at night, followed by deep discussions that nobody remembered the following morning. We solved world problems between 10 pm and 3 am and forgot the solutions by breakfast.
I drank heavily. Very heavily. The kind of drinking that starts in the evening and ends when birds begin their morning devotion. Nights were long. Wallets were light. Confidence was artificial. Wisdom was imaginary.
At the time, it felt important. Necessary even. You could not be the only one at the table drinking soda. That required a level of self-confidence I had not yet developed.
Years passed. College ended. Responsibility arrived. Alcohol did not leave. It upgraded from a visitor to a tenant and finally from a tenant to a landlord.
Money disappeared quietly. Not in big dramatic amounts but in small consistent leaks; a drink here, a round there; celebrations that needed alcohol; stress that needed alcohol; happiness that needed alcohol; sadness that needed alcohol. Eventually, life itself seemed to require alcohol as a supporting document.
Looking back now, I ask myself a simple question.
What exactly was the value?
Did alcohol make me healthier? No.
Wealthier? Absolutely not.
Wiser? Only in the morning when I was regretting it.
Cleverer? The opposite.
Alcohol gives you confidence to say things you should never say, to people you should never say them to, at times you should definitely be asleep.
It convinces you that you are the most interesting person in the room. Meanwhile, you are just loud.
It makes strangers look like friends and friends look like philosophers. It turns ordinary music into life-changing experiences and ordinary ideas into business plans that should never be attempted.
Alcohol has wrecked families, marriages, careers, businesses, and finances with an efficiency that would impress any project manager.
Arguments start. Trust erodes. Health declines; Money vanishes. Time disappears. And the next day, you cannot even remember what you were fighting for.
The positive side? I have searched for it like a lost receipt. I am yet to find it.
Maybe for some people, there is moderation. For me, moderation was a rumour. Once I started, the night had to finish properly. And “properly” meant watching sunrise with a headache forming quietly behind my eyes.
About ten years ago, I stopped drinking.
No dramatic announcement. No press conference. Just a slow realisation that this loyal friend had contributed nothing meaningful to my life except stories that were not even funny anymore.
The first thing I noticed was money. Suddenly, my wallet was not under attack every weekend.
The second thing was time. Nights became shorter. Mornings became useful. Birds stopped being witnesses to my poor decisions.
The third thing was clarity. I discovered that problems do not disappear in a bottle. They wait for you patiently at the bottom.
And then came the changes I had not anticipated.
I started eating better. I started sleeping better. I started judging better. My financial position improved quietly but steadily. My relationship with my family became healthier because I was now present, not just physically there but mentally available.
Even my relationship with God improved. I had more time to pray, to reflect, to make sacrifices, and to tithe without feeling like I was negotiating with my conscience.
And strangely, life did not become boring. It became peaceful.
I started attending events and remembering everything. I started leaving parties when I was still respectable. I started having conversations that made sense the following day.
I realised something important.
Alcohol does not add value to your life. It only edits your awareness of it.
It edits your money.
It edits your health.
It edits your judgment.
It edits your time.
And when you finally remove it, you realise how much of your life was being quietly negotiated away.
Today, when I look back at those long nights, the colossal amounts of money, the imaginary wisdom, and the early morning regrets, I do not feel guilty. I feel educated.
Because sometimes you have to live through a habit to understand its true cost.
If alcohol taught me anything, it is this.
You do not need a drink to be interesting.
You do not need a drink to be social.
You do not need a drink to handle stress.
You do not need a drink to celebrate life.
In fact, life becomes clearer, cheaper, healthier, and far less dramatic without it.
And the best part?
You wake up in the morning with no apologies to make.
About The Author
Engr Victor Okonkwo is an Educator and Entrepreneur. He can be reached on 08022406296.
