Hiding Alcohol from Family: What I Was Really Trying to Hide

Written by Susan — Quit drinking at 37 • Sober since 1998 • Sharing what actually works

Written by Susan — Quit drinking at 37 • Sober since 1998 • Sharing what actually works

When hiding alcohol from family and friends, you get cunning.

You leave bottles in the bag they came in and push them to the back of the fridge. And the empty bottles or cans? You do the same thing with those too. Put them in a bag so “the evidence” can’t be seen, then get them down to the dumpster as quickly as possible.

I was in my mid-20s at the time. Looking back, I think that’s what bothered me most. Deep down, I already suspected that what I was doing wasn’t entirely normal. If it had felt normal, I wouldn’t have been trying so hard to hide the evidence.

When I later moved out into the countryside to be near my mum and dad, it became easier to keep my drinking out of sight. We lived on a “compound,” as Dad liked to call it. They lived on five acres, my brother and his family on an adjacent five acres, and I lived on almost three acres.

So what they couldn’t see regarding my drinking was, quite literally, out of sight and out of mind.

At least, it was out of sight and out of mind for them.

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It Didn't Start That Way

When I was younger, my drinking habit was probably two or three drinks, perhaps a couple of times a week. There was nothing to hide because, at least in my mind, there was nothing unusual about it.

A few drinks felt normal. Most of the people around me who drank seemed to consume about the same amount, so I never gave it much thought. I certainly wasn't counting drinks, and I didn't think I had a problem... back then.

What I didn't understand at the time was how gradually alcohol tolerance develops. The body adapts to the amount you drink, which means the buzz you're looking for becomes harder to achieve. So you have one more drink. Then another.

The change isn't dramatic. It happens slowly over years rather than weeks. What started out as two or three drinks eventually became four, then five, and sometimes six. Looking back, I can see the progression clearly. At the time, however, it simply felt normal because it happened so gradually.

When Two Drinks Quietly Became Six

The first time I really started paying attention to how much I was drinking wasn't because I was concerned about alcohol. It was because I was concerned about calories.

That's when things became uncomfortable.

Seeing the calorie cost of six drinks a night written down in black and white made me cringe. Not only was I consuming a large number of calories through alcohol, but those calories didn't leave much room for nutritious food.

The increase hadn't happened overnight. There was no dramatic moment, intervention, or sudden crisis. It had crept up slowly over the years.

So, what began as two or three drinks gradually became four, then five, and eventually six. For most of my twenty years of drinking, six drinks was fairly typical. Some nights it was four. But on rare occasions, it was seven or even eight if I didn't have to work the next day.

Even now, writing those numbers down makes me wince a lot.

At the time, though, I had become so used to it that it felt normal. That's the tricky thing about gradual change. What would have shocked me in my early twenties barely registered by the time I reached my thirties.

The Hiding Became a Habit Too

If it wasn't bad enough that I recognized I had developed a drinking habit, hiding alcohol from family became a habit too.

If my mum, dad, or brother happened to pop in for a visit, the last thing I wanted them to see were bottles of booze sitting out in plain sight. So every morning I'd make sure the place was spic and span. Bottles were put away. Empty cans and bottles were removed. Anything that might draw attention quietly disappeared.

The empties often ended up hidden inside paper or plastic bags before being taken to the dumpster. Looking back, it seems ridiculous that I put so much effort into hiding the evidence, but at the time it simply became part of my routine.

• Nobody had asked me to do these things.
• Nobody had accused me of drinking too much.
• Nobody was inspecting my fridge or counting empty bottles.

These were habits I created all by myself.

Just as drinking had become part of my evening routine, hiding the evidence had become part of my morning routine.

Why I Started Hiding Alcohol from Family

At the time, I genuinely believed the hiding was about other people.

I didn't want questions. I didn't want comments.

And I certainly didn't want anyone noticing how much I was drinking.

It felt easier to hide the bottles than to explain them. It felt easier to hide the empties than to answer awkward questions.

In the end, though, I had to ask myself something. If everything was fine, why did I feel the need to hide it? That's a question I avoided for a long time.

The Harder Truth Was That I Was Hiding It from Myself

Humans are full of habits. Some good, some bad. Hiding alcohol from family is one thing. But when you start hiding it from yourself, that's another thing entirely.

Why did I hide it from myself?

Was it because I knew that once I admitted I had a problem, I'd have to deal with it?

Yes.

So I kept putting off the obvious and kept my secretive drinking habits to myself.

Looking back now, those numbers tell a very different story.

Seeing page after page of fours, fives, sixes, and the occasional seven or eight hit me like a ton of bricks. The evidence had been sitting there all along in my own handwriting.

Back then, I didn't want to acknowledge that my drinking was out of the ordinary because I honestly didn't know what ordinary drinking looked like. Over time, my version of normal had quietly changed.

Realizing that I hadn't just been hiding the evidence from family members, but from myself as well, was a sobering moment.

Deep down, I think part of me already knew the truth. I just wasn't ready to face it.

Looking Back, It Was a Warning Sign

I don't think hiding bottles of alcohol in bags meant I was a bad person. Nor do I think it meant I was broken. Looking back, I was simply trying to handle a problem the best way I knew how at the time.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

Having said that, hiding the evidence was an important signal.

A signal that part of me already knew something wasn't right.

A signal that my relationship with alcohol had quietly changed.

A signal that drinking was no longer something I did occasionally. It had become something I was organizing my life around, hiding from others, and trying not to think about too deeply myself.

Of course, I didn't see it that clearly at the time.

It would take many more years before I finally faced the reality of what alcohol had become in my life. That day eventually arrived on January 17, 1998, when I took my last drink.

Looking back now, hiding alcohol from family wasn't really the problem.

It was a symptom of a problem I wasn't yet ready to face.

What I Was Really Trying to Hide

As I approach 30 years of sobriety, it's funny how clearly I can still remember these incidents. And I'm glad I can.

Without those memories to remind me where alcohol gradually took me, I might still be drinking today. Or worse.

My family knew I drank. They may even have thought, "Susan drinks a lot." But nobody ever took me aside or confronted me about it. I was an adult living on my own and making my own choices.

I am incredibly grateful for that awful morning awakening on January 17, 1998. It changed the direction of my life forever. And that's one thing I don't want to hide from anyone.

You can read more about what happened that morning in my story, Why I Stopped Drinking at 37 - The Wake-Up Call I Needed.

It was my turning point.

If you're hiding alcohol from family members, perhaps the question isn't where you're hiding it or whether anyone else notices.

Perhaps the more important question is this:

What am I really trying to hide?

For me, meaningful change didn't begin when I stopped drinking.

It began when I finally became honest with myself.

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