This is an anonymized experience record that has undergone risk screening and language refinement; it does not retain the original author's identity, location, or identifiable details.
Under 40-Degree Heat, I Found Myself a "Heat Relief" Excuse
This summer, most parts of the country experienced absurdly high temperatures. With the mercury nearing 40 degrees and oppressive humidity, it felt like being trapped in a steamer—you could wring sweat from your underwear. In such weather, normal people might think of air conditioning, watermelon, or cold drinks, but for me, only one thought occupied my mind: how to keep drinking without dying from the heat?
I admit my alcohol dependence has been long-standing. But every summer, the scorching heat becomes my "legitimate excuse"—it's too hot, so having a drink to cool down isn't excessive, right? I even scoured the internet for "summer drinking recipes," trying to justify my drinking as reasonable. Under those posts, there were always people like me, exchanging "refreshing and satisfying" concoctions as if this weren't alcohol dependence but a celebration of life.
Starting with Shaved Ice and Alcohol, I Thought I'd Found the "Perfect Balance"
What first caught my eye was a suggestion about "old-school shaved ice." The comments claimed pouring alcohol over shaved ice made for an exhilarating summer drink. Immediately intrigued, I grabbed a bottle of strawberry-flavored gin. Pouring it over sweet-and-sour shaved ice, the first sip felt magical: the icy crunch carried the alcohol's kick, while the jam's sweetness balanced the bitterness, making it refreshing yet "exciting." I told myself this was better than straight liquor—at least the ice diluted it, so I wouldn't get drunk as easily.
But the problem was, this "heat relief" illusion made me drink more guilt-free. One shaved ice cocktail cooled my body but heated my brain. I convinced myself this was just for cooling off, not alcoholism. In reality, the alcohol content remained unchanged, and the pleasant taste made me drink faster. That summer, I drank this way almost daily, progressing from one glass to two, from evening to late night.
Huoxiang Zhengqi Water Cocktails: A Dangerous "Pick-Me-Up" Recipe
Later, I stumbled upon an even more outrageous recipe: mixing Huoxiang Zhengqi Water with alcohol. Frankly, the taste of Huoxiang Zhengqi Water used to make me nauseous as a child. But comments claimed blending it with gin and soda water could "refresh the mind" and "relieve heat." Somehow, this made sense to me, and I even bought herbaceous gin for the mix. Following a 1:3 ratio—gin to soda water—I dumped in an entire bottle of Huoxiang Zhengqi Water. The first sip nearly made me vomit: bitter and pungent. Yet, after a few sips, I found it oddly addictive. That mix of medicinal bitterness and alcohol's kick felt intensely "heady."
Looking back, this wasn't heat relief—it was double-stimulating my body with alcohol and medicine. Huoxiang Zhengqi Water contains alcohol, and combined with gin, one glass far exceeded safe limits. My body had already started sending danger signals: rapid heartbeat, dizziness, nausea. But I blamed it all on "the heat," completely missing the signs of alcohol poisoning.
Alcohol with Ice Pops: An Adult's "Joy" That Marks the Start of Losing Control
Later, my "creativity" grew even wilder. I'd split a Want Want Ice Pop in half, squeeze it into a glass, mix in citrus-flavored liquor, and blend it into a slushie. I told myself this was just "adult fun slushies"—sweet, tangy, and mildly intoxicating, unfazed by 40-degree heat. I even researched "secret recipes": rye whiskey with cream liqueur, mixed with rum, creating a "smooth, delicious" drink.
But the truth was, these fancy recipes masked one fact: I couldn't quit alcohol. It wasn't about cooling off—my body had grown dependent. Without drinking, I'd experience panic, tremors, and insomnia. The summer heat just gave me a more "respectable" excuse. I began calculating daily how to maintain a "buzzed" state without arousing suspicion. But losing control was inevitable—once, after a whole bottle of gin "shaved ice slush," I collapsed on the couch, barely conscious, and my family called an ambulance.
After that, I finally realized the heat wasn't the problem—alcohol was. Those so-called "heat relief recipes" were just pushing me deeper into dependence. I proactively contacted the hospital's alcohol cessation clinic and started systematic treatment. The process isn't easy, but at least I no longer need to lie to myself about "cooling off."
If you or a loved one are in a similar situation, consider taking this self-assessment for alcohol dependence or learning about how family can offer support. Don't wait for your body to sound the alarm.
Heat isn't an excuse—behind alcohol-dependent "heat relief" lies the start of losing control.