IN YOUR OWN WORDS

Confessions of a Binge-Drinker

After Toren Volkmann ’02 graduated from USD, he landed a coveted spot in South America with the Peace Corps. Little did he know he'd wind up as the "I Told You So" poster boy for alcohol awareness by the age of 24.

My thumb had apparently been extended for quite some time when the truck driver picked me up and took me to the train station. I wondered if he smelled my urine-soaked pants or noticed the blood on my shirt. Surely he had no idea what I had been through the night before. The scary part is neither did I. Scarier still was that this hardly fazed me, and I was still a teen-ager.

I started partying regularly when I was 15 and continued throughout my college years. Aware of the risks of heavy drinking, I had no intention of letting a substance run my life. All my drinking took place under social circumstances — and my life became extremely social. After a series of unfortunate drinking-related incidents in high school — getting kicked off the soccer team, the football team, the swim team and such — I had told my parents that I was going to buckle down in college.

I meant it when I said it.

Getting drunk was always my intention when I drank. My drink of choice was Olympia Ice, though I would happily drink Pabst, Bull Ice or Old English. Life was a party; I worked hard and played harder. Rules didn't apply to me, and if they did, I broke them.

While my self-destruction wasn’t typical, the amount of heavy drinking that occurs on and around any college campus can make binge drinking seem normal. I balanced long weekends of heavy drinking with adequate studying and justified my lifestyle to anyone who questioned it. Not many did.

After facing several disciplinary issues at USD and arrests off-campus as a result of my drinking, I figured that my problems with alcohol had peaked. Surely my life would normalize after graduation.

Even with all the heavy drinking I engaged in, I still knew, on some level, that what I really wanted was to live my life purposefully and experience diverse cultures. So the answer to post-college doldrums and a failing job market was to become a Peace Corps volunteer. It seemed perfect: I would gain life experience, give back to humanity and — most important — gain the time necessary to pursue much-needed introspection.

I moved to South America and took a blank slate with me, along with dreams of fortifying my Spanish and learning the indigenous language. I thought I was ready to become a different person. Along with learning to play guitar, I started to see the value in learning to live by a different set of rules. I also came to see the difficulties, frustrations and rewards of adjusting to a third-world culture.

But alongside these external challenges, I was slowly being beaten down by the painful realization that I was indeed an alcoholic. Symptoms of my drinking worsened more than I had thought possible. Since not drinking was not an option, I’d try to drink socially, but I couldn’t. I’d get too intoxicated, black out, stop eating and eventually go through withdrawal, sweating through my nights, legs cramping, fearful that if I slept I’d start having seizures. Nothing I tried made things better.

I found it difficult to focus. I couldn’t remember what I had planned to buy at the market, what I had just been discussing with a group, what I was learning in language class. The further I got into withdrawal, the more my frustration turned into fear. My confidence and sense of humor were disappearing. I felt totally out of control on a purely physical level.

I was freaking out, and it was no fun whatsoever.

How was this possible? Maybe I knew I was an alcoholic back in high school. Probably I really knew by the end of college. Certainly I had to have known before I entered the Peace Corps. But maybe it was the harsh living circumstances in South America that had caused my alcoholism.

Yeah, right. It’s called denial. And it’s not just a river in Egypt.

Finally I realized I needed help. I couldn’t run this show on my own. Within a week I was admitted to a rehab center in the northeast United States where my real journey began. My situation was serious, but I had no idea what I was in for at the time.

None of it was easy. All of it was worth it.

Now I know that I’m not just a free spirit, but a flaming alcoholic. Since completing rehab last October, I lived in a halfway house for six months and co-wrote a book about my experiences. In it, my mother and I explore the ways that alcoholism has impacted our lives and how binge drinking affects college campuses and society.

As for me, I’m just learning how to live sober, one day at a time.

Find out more about the book, Our Drink: Detoxing the Perfect Family, co-authored by Toren Volkmann and his mother, Chris, at www.ourdrink.com.