Marian Keyes on her alcoholism

From How To Fail With Elizabeth Day podcast >

Alcohol had been a great friend to me from early teens, and it just became a better and a better friend… Everything was getting worse… My drinking moved from a worry to obviously alcoholic. I felt very depressed and I felt very hopeless, and I was so grateful to alcohol, because I thought, my god, this is helping me, because I was so unhappy, and how would I manage if this was taken from me?

I woke up one Monday morning and I was due to go to work. The depression that goes with heavy drinking is hardly a surprise considering that alcohol is a powerful depressant. I woke up and I thought I cannot go on like this…

Alcoholics are addicts who decide to get help. They often talk about a kind of jumping off point, where you realise you CANNOT CARRY ON as you ARE. But the idea of living without the … alcohol … Well I was in this paralysed, powerless, terrified state; I was on anti-depressants and I was on sleeping tablets; and I had took them all. And I don’t think I wanted to die, I wanted help. I wanted somebody to come along and helicopter me out of it… But by trying to kill myself, no matter how half-hearted it was, it kind of forced me into a point where I could no longer pretend that I was okay. And that got me into a rehab place. But even when I was going in there, I thought I was really DEPRESSED… I thought whatever was wrong with me … I needed to have therapy and some sort of trauma would be identified and then it could be sort of plucked out of me, and then I’d be fine and then I could go back and I’d be a normal person who could manage life and I could drink normally. Jesus, I was delusional, but that is part of the whole illness.

I was just very lucky that I went there and very quickly it dawned on me:

The only thing that’s wrong with me is that I’m an alcoholic.

And the only way I’ll ever be okay is if I stop.

And it was a clear revelation. But also I was heartbroken because this had been my best friend, it was the LOVE OF MY LIFE, it took away my pain, it took away my fear, it took away my sorrow and my heartbreak at my empty life and at my loneliness. The thought of being without it … I grieved it, like the way you would grieve a lover or a person who died. It’s a very powerful relationship, addiction, it’s incredibly enmeshed… and passionate… It’s like having a dysfunctional relationship with an abusive person. I knew what I had to do. And very quickly I became hopeful. My feelings changed really quickly. I was lucky, I think a lot of people who don’t get that immediate lift might relapse. But just because I wasn’t pouring this powerful chemical into my any longer, my mood changed. I could see the wonder of the world, which had seemed like it was misty and ashy and shrouded in grey for so long. And I had hope that I could have a life which was more like the lives other normal people had.

It’s such a hopeless condition, addiction – that feeling that every door is locked, that you’re trapped in this underground room. It is POSSIBLE to recover. It is POSSIBLE. And really and truly for me it was my waking thought, it was all about how I could drink, where I would get it, how I got the money for it, it was everything to me. I can be out now, I can go to parties, I can be at dinner with people, people can drink. I am almost literally blind to alcohol. The freedom I’ve been given, when I was such a prisoner. And now I don’t care if I accidentally smell someone else’s wine – I feel, oh my god! no get it away from me! It’s like horrible stuff.

All it made me feel was miserable for years and years.

Alcohol as a factor in unpremeditated, ‘random’ violence

Via RTÉ Radio 1 …

Lives ‘ripped apart’ after father killed in assault

“The family of a man who was killed after he tried to intervene in a “domestic” dispute between another man and his partner have said they cannot forget or forgive his killer.

Jonathan Dargan, 49, punched Patrick Mullally in the face at around 4am on Harold’s Cross Road, Dublin, on 6 March 2016

His defence counsel said alcohol was a factor, and that he had drank cocktails and driven drunk that night.

Mr Mullally, 56, had been out celebrating his retirement with family and friends when a cyclist told him he had seen a man acting aggressively towards a woman on Harold’s Cross Road. READ HERE >>>

Paul Reynolds, Crime Correspondent, discusses the case >>>

Dorothy Molloy’s poem ‘Gethsemane Day’ about her liver cancer

“They’ve taken my liver down to the lab,
left the rest of me here on the bed;
the blood I am sweating rubs off on the sheet,
but I’m still holding on to my head.

What cocktail is Daddy preparing for me?
What ferments in pathology’s sink?
Tonight they will tell me,
will proffer the cup, and, like it or not, I must drink.”

Taken from the Irish Times review of the collected, The Poems of Dorothy Molly (Faber)

New Life – A Short Story By Jacqui Gregory

From Soberista’s website, a story about an alcoholic grandmother minding her daughter’s child: “They had never really talked about Eleanor’s penchant for gin, but the arrival of her first grandchild had put it on the unwritten agenda.” >

Questions arose … Would she be able to stay awake for a full day while in charge of the baby?  Would she have the energy and patience to cope? Was she a daytime drinker? How bad was her hangover from the half bottle or so that she downed last night? Maybe she was still drunk? What would happen if she blacked out when the baby needed her? Could there be some kind of terrifying accident? 

Module focussing on representations of alcohol in Irish literature

Session #1

– On positive portrayals of alcohol and pubs, with a beer mat as prop

Just as a ‘trailer’, opened with the Guinness ad that uses the “We Have All The Time In The World” song and ends with the slogan ‘Pure Genius’ and a symbol of the trademarked Guinness harp while Armstrong sings the words ‘only love’.

To put literature in a clinical context – with alcoholism as the presenting condition – I read from Danielle Offri‘s essay ‘The Poetry Ward‘ about how she has incorporated poems into her ward rounds with trainee doctors, and even involved one (Jack Coulehan’s ‘I’m Gonna Slap Those Doctors‘) in her communications with a patient.

We moved on to Flann O’Brien’s ‘The Workman’s Friend’ poem from At Swim-Two-Birds as a starting point for a session exploring how pervasive and often positively represented pub life and alcohol are in Irish society as reflected in a number of poems, including:

I also mentioned the idea of Irish literature as patient and our job being to diagnose it.

To allude to how some of the work of the post-Joyce time was sub-par, I quoted from Nuala O’Faolain’s memoir, Are You Somebody? (New Island Books, 2018, p 92) >

… the culture [of literary Dublin] was terribly dependent on drink. There was too much public, anecdotal life and not enough personal, lyric life. There was too much drinking. Drinking means bad breath and crusted shirt-fronts and shaking hands and bottles of milk wolfed down as a meal and waking in the morning on a pile of coats with no clean knickers and being thin, being cold, being sick. And drinking is, after all, about getting drunk. Fine people all but prostituted themselves to get the money to get stupidly drunk every single night. I saw Myles na Gopaleen urinate against the counter in Neary’s one night. That’s what being a drunk means – waking to the evidence of repeated lonely humiliations that drive you further and further away from anything but drink. And whatever that kind of drinking did to me, it ruined women. I can think of only a few of the women (and I’m not one of them) who hung around McDaid’s who were not, sometimes, squalid. You would think that way of life had been designed to test people to their limits. Certainly it could not be survived: only abandoned.

Session 2 – in the pub

– On more damaging portrayals of alcohol and pub life in Irish literature, with actual pint of Guinness as ‘prop’

A poem-crawl session aimed at plying the participants with a skinful of drink-poems so that almost before they realised it and with minimal effort on their part they’d have got drunk on a sense of the medium (Irish literature) & of the theme (alcohol) over a relatively short period of time:

  • ‘Aubade’ by Michael Hartnett – a sort of follow-on poem to O’Brien’s ‘Workman’s Friend’, being in a similar metre & form, but with the refrain being the growing need to call a doctor.
  • ‘All Alcoholics Are Charmers’ by Martina Evans
  • ‘Bar Fly’ by Nessa O’Mahony
  • ‘Quitting the Bars’ by Paula Meehan

We ended with a discussion of what I think is kind of a ‘found poem’ by a man called Jim Long, who I gather was a client of Cork’s Simon Community. It was kindly given to me by Kathy D’Arcy who had it from an anthology (Mosaic) put together by Cork Simon in 2005. My sense – without having been able to confirm it yet – is that Jim was ‘interviewed’ and this story of his relationship with Phyllis was made into this poem by the editor of the anthology. It’s a heart-wrenching ‘Fairy Tale of New York’-like story of love challenged by the harsh realities of addiction and street living.

Session 3 – back in classroom

– On alcohol-aided abuse and control as theme and tumbler of whiskey (actually apple juice) as prop

To highlight the effect of all that alcohol on society, on people, at the deepest level, we read and talked about Doireann Ní Ghriofa‘s ‘From Richmond Hill’:

Home from hospital, you doze in my arm, milk-drunk,
all eyelashes, cheeks and raw umbilical, swaddled
in the heavy black smells of the brewery.

... Down gullets and guts went the porter,
went the pay, went the nights and days. ...

... As I watch your eyes open,
the reek of roasting hops knits a blanket of scent around us.

We read extracts from Edna O’Brien’s Down By the River with a focus on how alcohol may or may not be a factor in James’ sexual abuse and raping of his daughter, Mary; as well as on how Irish society is represented in terms of the repression of true feelings and emotions and their displacement to empty formulas in conversation, distorted relationships, and unhealthy reliance on alcohol.

We discussed the inability of various people in Mary’s life to prompt Mary to say what was going on or to be able to help her; and put that in the context of how doctors need to have particular patience & the skill of close listening (// close reading in literature) to be able to communicate with young people; and an empathy and imagination that enables them to imagine possibilities and explore them – abilities that could be enhanced by reading literature.


On the topic of repression and not being equipped to talk abour certain things, I quoted again from Nuala O’Faolain:

“Yet I had no confidence at all … at the business of love. Over the next few years, the few times I more or less ‘went all the way’, it wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I was too shy about intimate things to talk about it. I didn’t have the self-confidence to indicate ‘no’. Or – when it came up, wordlessly, the first time, I didn’t have the words to say that I didn’t want to. Then, by doing it, I gained the confidence to say we should stop. This was the worst possible way of being with young men who were at least as confused as I was.” (page 56.)

Session 4 – 

– On teenage pressures and personality disorders, with numerous (empty) bottles of vodka as prop & game of drink bingo (with water)

We read a part of the second chapter, ‘Saturday’, from Louise O’Neill’s Asking For It, and discussed drinking among young people, the reasons for it as presented in Asking For It, the consequences, and how convincing or not the portrayals of their behaviour are in the novel compared to our own experiences.

We focussed on the malevolence of the central character, Emma, and where that might have come from – nature v nurture etc.; relationships with parents; ambition etc. And we discussed how Emma’s abuse of alcohol in the first part of the book shifts to her mother later on.

I then used Emilie Pine‘s essay ‘Something About Me’ from Notes on Self, in which one finds remarkable parallels from real life, to set up a ‘dialogue’ between the fiction & non-fiction and help elucidate the relationship Emma has with her mother.

We discussed the different kind of repression that seems to be at the heart of Asking For It – a failure to confront issues together, to guess at or ‘see’ what is right before our eyes, a failure to listen to each other without judgement and thereby enable divulgence, truth, confession; and instead turning a blind eye, pretending. There’s also, behind all that, a failure to nourish, to give space to, to protect, and speak up for etc. the next generation.

I suggested doctors needed to be part of that move to stand up for and protect young people, to prioritise their safety & their rights (above keeping up appearances etc.) & the importance of listening non-judgementally and in ways that it is clear to those speaking that there will be no judging, to young people, to each other; & encouraging the dealing with issues that can cause so much harm to people.

Session 5

– On alcoholISM, with the normality of wine as prop

With the alcoholism context established by extracts from Leslie Jamison’s The Recovering, Lucy Rocca’s talk for Alcohol Action Ireland about her alcoholism >, and from Mary Coughlan’s song ‘Delaney’s Gone Back on the Wine’ (He didn’t move out right away/Spent a few evenings just tearing out his hair/While all the kids just stared./And we moaned about who really cared.”) and an interview with her about shame & not having the words to describe the abuse she experienced at the time; and the sense of the medical profession’s contribution to normalising alcohol from some brief references (e.g. Shaun McCann’s An Immodest Proposal); we revisited Louise O’Neill’s Asking For It in particular reading extracts that dealt with Emma’s mother’s rapidly developing reliance on wine as family life deteriorates, mirroring Emma’s reliance on vodka in first part of the book.

We then read & discussed the amazing portrait of an alcoholic at the outer fringes of life that is Eileen Casey’s story ‘That Woman’ (from Snow Shoes) and the clinical presentation of alcoholism as seen in Emilie Pine’s essay ‘On Intemperance’ from Notes to Self.

Themes that came up:

  • Misconceptions of what alcoholISM ‘looks’ like
  • Importance of children >/</= Individual’s needs/desires
  • Cultural differences in relationships between young people & where alcohol fits in
  • Attitude of medical professionals to alcohol – too blasé? 
  • What can medics say to harmful/dependent drinkers with responsibility for children? 
  • Need for doctors to use their voices to speak out against alcohol?
  • Burden of alcohol morbidity on healthcare resources & individual medics
  • Public health policies on alcohol in society


Session 6 –

– On alcohol & death, with a liver in formaldehyde as the prop, in the old anatomy lecture theatre, TCD

The participants, with final prop in the foreground.

Introduced the theme using Dorothy Molloy’s poem ‘Gethsemane Day’ with its almost unbearable juxtaposing of the grimness of a final diagnosis with the jolliness of a nursery rhyme metre:

They’ve taken my liver down to the lab,
left the rest of me here on the bed;
the blood I am sweating rubs off on the sheet,
but I’m still holding on to my head.

What cocktail is Daddy preparing for me?
What ferments in pathology’s sink?
Tonight they will tell me,
will proffer the cup, and, like it or not, I must drink.

We read & discussed extracts from Anne Enright’s novel The Gathering (Jonathan Cape 2007) about the Hegarty clan, as told through the voice of heavy drinker, Veronica, as she tries to get her head around the life and death of her alcoholic brother, Liam, & the widespread dysfunction in her family:

This is the way my mind runs … while my brother is decanted and transported and embalmed (the whiskey must help)

p. 83

I drew attention to the considerable number of parallels between Enright’s plot and the ‘true-life story’ of Nuala O’Faolain & her brother, Don, as recounted in her memoir Are You Somebody?  (New Island 2018)

I saw black rot in his finger-tips. I never saw anything in my life as – as indifferent to me and all the living – as that blackness. His body wasn’t even pretending to carry a person any more. What or where Don was, was the most unanswerable question. I never heard silence like there was in the little room with his body in it. I never saw anything more immobile than Don in that still place…

p. 262

Finished up by sharing this harrowing short video about alcohol & suicide from Alcohol Action Ireland >