I used to work for an extremely well known blue polo superstore, in the receiving department. I unloaded trucks and stocked freight, and it wasn't exactly the most strenuous job ever but it would take a toll on you after a while just for the monotony. I live in a small town where there is next to nothing to do but visit bars or go fishing, and I don't like fishing. I was working a strange shift, too. 4pm to 1am, which left about two hours to visit one local bar. So I started going after work. I'd already been drinking by this point in my life, but not regularly. A few beers after work started turning into buying a case before work maybe once a week, and going home and watching movies while drinking. A case a week turned into three or four. Cases turned to cheap fifths of whiskey or vodka. Even still, you can get some pretty terrible hooch for $13 bucks a handle. So you can see where my next progression went. So it was a year after I'd starting drinking regularly that I was at about a fifth a night, drinking dirt-cheap booze (which is rough on a body as is, let alone being alcohol.) I started going to work slightly drunk from the night before. Then I started going to work after taking a shot or three after waking up, to help with the hangovers. The day I got fired, I'd drank the better part of a fifth before coming in. I'm not even sure if they knew I was drunk that day, but my performance had been slipping and there were a few complaints. Spoilers, they canned me. I had about six hundred dollars left to my name at that point. I literally couldn't afford to drink and stay in my house. I owned the one-room cabin I was living in, on a family plot, so my bills were relatively affordable. I managed to stay afloat four months after I lost my job, because through some miracle of God I made the first sensible choice in ages of choosing my house over the booze. I still lost it, and ended up having to sell it to cover repairs on my truck. Moved back in with my parents, and I'd really rather not talk about that. Those four months were the worst part of my detox, because I simply couldn't get more. I never had anything I could honestly call the shakes, but I started getting a few of those hallucinations. Small ones, but I knew they were there. I couldn't sleep at night, and I couldn't sleep during the day. I was constantly irritable, and few people wanted to be around me. After I had to move back in with my parents, it did get a bit better. My mood stabilized out, and every once in a while I got a bit of sleep. It's been pretty much alright ever since, and it's going on two years now since I lost that job. I even have a new one, now. I won't lie and say I haven't drank a bit since, but I have been completely alcohol free the last six months, unless you count the Listerine I use in the mornings. That's my story. I honestly feel like it wasn't that big a deal looking back, but I do realize how bad it could have been, and I probably would have kept going until I was scraping rock bottom with my teeth.