And you can’t even call it anxiety at that point. It’s existential dread.

A really functional alcoholic can get through a shift at work, but too much longer and you know withdrawals are going to start, if they haven’t already.

You have to make it home before they get so bad that they knock you out and you’ll have to go to the ER.

Shaking hands. Complete brain fog. Your stomach starts twisting. Your hands shake. You start feeling numbness and tingling in places that mimic stroke symptoms. Nausea. Something that feels like extreme hunger, but food would make you vomit.

Eventually possible seizures, and you could kill someone if you’re behind the wheel.

Functional alcoholics have to have perfect timing. And the drive home from work, once upon a time, was when my doomsday clock would start ticking.

I never once drank and drove.

But there were times when I hit heavy traffic on the way home from work and seriously considered pulling over, buying a shot at a bar just to delay the clock, and then sitting in the parking lot for an hour, so I could drive “safely” but still buy myself time to get home before withdrawals incapacitated me.

It doesn’t help that once you are in that deep, eating and sleeping are tough. You can’t stay asleep from the anxiety and night sweats. And your stomach rejects food. So you are always tired, nauseous and weak.

I understand completely what your uncle was going through. And it’s hard to explain to people that you aren’t the asshole that’s going to hurt anyone by driving drunk, but the need is so severe that you’ve considered risking it. And then Hated yourself for even considering it.

It’s a terrible cycle. And most people take multiple attempts to beat it, if they ever can. And SO, SO much shame involved that keeps you from getting the help you need.