My father worked in the building trade (he was a QS so he employed gangs such as electricians, plumbers and so on) and so the tradition was that he got a bottle of spirits from each gang. One year it was 17 bottles.
We we SO pleased to offer guests their choice of spirits since we didn't drink them. Even my mother preferred her nightly bottle of champagne....
So it sat there. Anyone wanting a coffee got Irish coffee, French coffee..... Russian coffee.... whatever.
We would compare notes on how we disposed of it. Even now cheap whiskey tastes terrible and good whiskey has to be taken in moderation. Straight or (if you must) with water.
But it never thought about drinking it. If a bottle went missing, I very much doubt it would have been noted - we gave it away. I was happy with my 4 pack of Guinness, my dad with his 4-pack of lager.
It's nice to be able to say NO. I gave up and smoked hash. One Saturday my mum asked whose the oz of black was left on the table. It was mine... so I had to make her cookies.
Because they were both hippies in the 60s and so to them, dope was FINE. Tripping on a Christmas day would have been even worse if I hadn't been able to tell them. My dad just laughed and asked 'why?' and my mum gave me some of her Valium and made excuses to the family of why I was 'ill'.
But I later on went on to drink 2 bottles of gin a day for over a year. I mean GOOD gin. But after that, I treat alcohol as my mother taught me:
'A good servant but a terrible master'.
I hope you find a way out because for sure, it will kill you.... and I've seen cirrhosis and it's not a stylish way to peg out.