This kind of feels like a weird topic to be writing about, but it’s one I’ve felt invited to look at more closely in recent years.
I’ve never considered myself to have a drinking “problem.” Problem is such a relative word. But sometimes, problems occur when I drink.
My current relationship with alcohol feels pretty “normal,” at least according to society’s standard for a working, unmarried, child-free woman. Sometimes I’m sober for weeks or months on end, and sometimes I split two bottles of wine with a girlfriend and have to spend the night on her couch wedged between her three-year-old’s dinosaurs and Legos. On average, I’m somewhere in the middle of these scenarios.
Rare is it that I truly crave alcohol or even mean it when I say “God, I could use a drink right now.” As much as I like me some candlelit wine bubble baths and summer sand volleyball pregame get-togethers, I don’t actually think alcohol is an effective stress reliever or way to unwind. It’s also proven to be a very inconsistent source of “liquid courage” - at least for me…especially at karaoke bars.
Truthfully, I don’t think I actually like alcohol. I think it’s expensive, unhealthy, meh in the taste department, and a little dangerous.
So, why was I so hungover yesterday that I didn’t move off the couch for 14 hours, neglected my dog and housework, and dry heaved stomach bile all day long?
Why did I trade a day of my life - a day I had been excited to have for myself to work on my writing and other creative projects - for a hangover?
And why was this the second time in six weeks this has happened? Why was this the 4th or 5th time this has happened in the past six months?
Questions like these have led me to get curious about my relationship with alcohol as a whole.
If I don’t like it, don’t need it, and generally feel like shit after having it, why do I drink?
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WHY DO I DRINK?
I didn’t make a conscious decision to “start” drinking (does anyone?). Like most, when my peers began, so did I. It just so happened that my peers started young.
My first few sips were around 13-14, and by 15, binge-drinking every weekend was a regular occurrence. In my small town rural high school, it’s a tale many of us share: we drank because there was nothing else to do. We drank because we had access. We drank because our friends did. Most of us never really had a chance to form a personal opinion on whether or not we actually enjoyed drinking because it simply infiltrated every aspect of our social lives. We didn’t know another way. At least in the circles I ran with.
My drinking was destructive in those early years, and I sometimes look back and wonder how I came out of adolescence (mostly) unscathed. Far too many times vague snapshots of riding in cars with strangers, often much older than me, going to unfamiliar places, sometimes in unfamiliar cities, steady current of unfamiliar, unattended drinks flowing my way, resurface in my mind.
I was (and can still be) an insidious drinker. I wasn’t overtly loud, overly emotional, or angry. I didn’t embarrass myself often, and to my knowledge, have never been the girl slumped over in the corner with permanent marker penises drawn on her face. No judgment.
Instead, I’d be the one functioning relatively normally - making drinks, dancing, playing games, having deep conversations, policing potential fights or altercations, being the “mom” of the group, and generally acting like myself - only I’d be doing so blacked out. And no one could ever tell.
This left a lot of room for risky situations to unfold.
As I’d go entire nights having full on conversations, making full on memories as a slightly more extraverted, fun, and spontaneous version of myself, the more friendships and relationships I was granted based on this accidental alcohol-induced identity people began to mistake as the “real” me.
The more loose, care-free, laid-back, and risk-taking I was, the more I had in common with my friends. The more confident, promiscuous, and unbothered I acted, the more fun my life (and I) seemed.
I didn’t drink alcohol to be cool or fit in. I didn’t place my entire worth in it. I wasn’t worried about losing my friendships without it, and there was no peer pressure. It just made my life easier.
Drinking alcohol made me feel like I had access to more of myself, my whole self. When I was sober, I was guarded. Though seemingly happy, well-adjusted, and extraverted on the outside, internally, incessant chatter and worry flooded my mind constantly. I was always anxious - preoccupied with my insecurities and uncertain in my surroundings. Never relaxed. Being sober meant that fear, timidity, and vulnerability took center stage. Being drunk meant the opposite.
I knew I had so much life and laughter to share with other people. I could feel this “fun,” care-free, not so structured and serious girl within me…but without alcohol, I couldn’t access her. Alcohol made me feel like I could be present in the moment (even if in reality I was not present at all).
When morning would come and my friends and I hobbled around wherever we had landed, looking for keys and clothes and cell phones and whatever else, we’d laugh and bond over a shared task of trying to piece together the night before. It was the way we connected, and I felt no shame in it. I loved it, actually.
Occasionally, my alcohol intake would produce real consequences, though mild in comparison to my peers.
After multiple times getting caught sneaking out, receiving an MIP and having to go to AA meetings and DUI classes before I could even drive (no, I never got a DUI there were just no adolescent alcohol abuse classes for me to attend in my area so I was placed with the adults), my dad tried to intervene.
While he had ZERO idea of the true extent of my drinking during that time, he did know enough to sit me down and tell me that with alcoholism running so strong in my family, I needed to be careful with my own drinking because of my genetics. He told me I was at risk. I remember it being one of the only conversations we had during that time in my life where I really heard him and felt his genuine concern for me.
But, I didn’t listen to him.
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By the time I got to college, my drinking had actually slowed down a bit. Where my 17-year old roommate was experiencing her very first tastes of freedom - ever - I was feeling a bit jaded by it all.
However, I wasn’t transitioning into college well, at least on the inside. I underestimated how difficult it would be to go to school out-of-state and watch my close-knit group of friends continue to hangout with one another, visit each other’s more local campuses, and seemingly make new friends right away. I made a decision not to rush or join a sorority when I began college because I “didn’t want to be one of those girls,” (whatever the fuck that meant), and realized I made a mistake because doing that would have meant instant access to friendships…and alcohol.
Luckily, my roommate was local and many of her high school friends now attended our college. Eventually, we began to go to some parties, meet some people, and got into a groove with who and how we spent our time.
In other words, we were drinking Tuesday-Sunday most weeks of the semester, and we weren’t having just one or two.
During this time my reason for drinking began to slightly shift. While I definitely still drank because I wanted to have access to what I thought was a more fun, free version of myself, I increasingly began jonesing for reasons to go out drinking because I wanted an excuse to meet new people. Why it didn’t occur to me that I could meet people somewhere other than parties is beyond me…
I got into a habit where even if I didn’t want to drink, I always said yes to any invitation because the allure for novelty, and the hope for serendipitous connection, was just too high.
Unsurprisingly, that was not the case.
I did not meet any fantastic friends or men through these escapades. In fact, I met a handful that took advantage of my naivety and desperate need to seem “nonchalant,” unattached, and laid-back. This came to a peak one morning when I woke up in my dorm room, alone, without my underwear, and no recollection of the prior night’s events, at least not after I took my first sip of punch at the fraternity’s pregame before their formal.
I’m lucky. I don’t think anything happened. It didn’t seem like it. But I also don’t know for sure and I won’t ever.
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SHIFTS
Around the time of that event another event happened: my aunt took me to a supernatural glory conference (you’re just going to have to wait for me to finish my book to explain that one).
This Christian-oriented event set off a four-year journey into me exploring various aspects of my Christian faith, especially outside of religion. In my Catholic religion, rules and dogma were pushed. Fear and wrath. In this more relationship-oriented approach, I began to explore topics such as identity, grace, purpose, and love.
It was the first time I was given a language that celebrated my individuality, quirks, and unique talents. I lapped up these concepts and affirmations with a thirst I never knew I had.
Without consciously trying, less of my schedule started to go to drinking and more of it filled up with Bible studies, church events, and new friends. By the time Fall semester of my sophomore year of college began, I had effectively stopped drinking altogether. 90% of this was because I lost desire. 10% was because now that I had paraded around my new born-again-believer identity, I wasn’t sure what “moderation” meant and I was scared of being judged…a little by God…but mostly by man.
So, from ages 19.5 to around 22, I stayed nearly completely sober. On my 21st birthday I went to dinner with my family and then home. When all my work friends went out for drinks after their shifts, I rarely joined. I stopped going to parties, fell out of touch with friends and acquaintances, and generally spent much of my time alone.
Looking back on this period of my life, I think I thought alcohol represented an older version of myself, one that was more selfish, lost, and distracted, one I was trying to shed. It felt like something I was trying to grow out of, but this growth did not come without pangs.
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GROWING PAINS
My first sign that there might be a “problem” with my conscience was when I was about 22 handing out sandwiches with my church friends to the homeless and attempting to do street ministry to all the people coming out of the bars at 2:00AM.
I went and sat down on the sidewalk, soggy sandwich in hand, and realized I’d much rather be one of the people coming out of the bars than one of the people trying to “save” them.
I missed dancing.
I missed flirting.
I missed dressing up.
I missed taking shots.
So, after that event and as I progressed more into my 22nd year, I flipped a reverse and began to again switch up my schedule, only this time opting for more of a 50% God and church and a 50% going out to the bars. For the life of me I could NOT reconcile how to make these two aspects of myself work together, and it caused me to be 50% less of myself in both situations. It was exhausting.
Eventually, the choice for which “side” I was going to fall on was made for me right before I turned 23 when my dad unexpectedly died and I decided to pack up and move back to the town I went to high school in. Going back promised the safety of friends, a rekindling of an old relationship, and a break from all the compartmentalized living I had been doing.
I don’t mean to sound like such a defeatist victim when I say “the choice was made for me,” but if you’ve ever gone through a series of life events where you just lose your will to fight or care (even if just for a while) and all you want is a little teeny, tiny break from having to think or plan or choose, you know what I mean.
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DEJA VU
Upon returning to Illinois, I was quickly welcomed and absorbed into my friends’ activities. The tight knit group I left in 2009 had changed considerably, but the dynamic of new familiar faces and shared history instantly raised my spirits. Everything I felt I was lacking early in college, I gained overnight when I moved back.
Not having an opinion on what I did with my life at that point in time, I synced up with my best friend and quickly became an accessory to her life. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just mean I had my person back so whatever she was going to do, I was going to do it as well. And at that time, she, and literally all of my friends and boyfriend, were very, very into drinking. Just as much or more than how it was in high school.
Slowly but surely, I again fell into old patterns. Where before, in adolescence, I was drinking because I wanted to access more of my whole “self,” and later when I was drinking for a sense of novelty and connectedness, like in early college, now I wanted to drink because going out on a weekend was the only thing I could look forward to in my life.
It sounds dramatic, but it was the only time I wasn’t trapped in my mind, stressed out trying to figure out what I was doing with my life.
I had become so detached, confused, and disoriented. I couldn’t seem to reconcile how I had just uprooted my life and moved back to a small town of 10,000 where none of my surviving family members lived, no work prospects existed, and all of my connection to God and spirituality seemed non-existent. Going out was a lifeline.
From ages 24-26, I basically lived in this state of “living for the weekend.” Luckily as my mind calmed and grief subdued, I was eventually able to find a sort of homeostasis with my drinking, especially by the latter portion of this timeframe. I would still go out every weekend with my friends, but I would almost never blackout anymore, and sometimes I only had one or two.
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ROOTING
The way I described my relationship with alcohol at the very beginning of this piece began to take root around the time I was 27/28. As a twenty-something with friends who were beginning to reach varying milestones in their lives (houses, weddings, babies, career advancements, etc.), drinking to catch up or wind down became a common thing. Drinking to get hammered into oblivion every weekend began to lose its appeal to everyone. Thank God.
I also realized the hangovers were starting to get a lot worse…
Side note: during my 14-hour Hangover from Hell yesterday, I got curious why, scientifically, hangovers get worse as we age and I learned that after about 28/29, (1) our body’s ability to metabolize alcohol diminishes, (2) our percentage of body water decreases, leading to higher blood alcohol concentrations, and (3) our regenerative cycles – on all fronts – slow slightly year after year. So, drinking 4 drinks at 24 vs. 4 drinks at 31 literally hits different. It’s not in our imagination.
Between having more responsibilities and less downtime overall, my drinking decreased according to my environment. As people got busier with their own lives, I was forced to accept that I had accidentally created a life, my life, in rural Illinois after only meaning to stay here one year after my dad died…not six. It was unsettling and I wasn’t exactly feeling proud of myself. At all.
My priorities were shifting and I knew I had to confront some big issues that alcohol (and busyness and overworking and traveling) had been helping me avoid. I was feeling like I wanted to call spirituality back into my life, was getting more curious about working out, eating healthier, and holistic medicine, and could sense that I needed to go back and revisit some repressed emotions and trauma from earlier in my life (unrelated to alcohol).
Basically, I was tired of feeling like shit mentally, physically, and emotionally. And not having a reason to go out every weekend anymore meant that I had a lot more time to be sober and sit with myself.
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NOW
The truth is, I never realized how big a role alcohol played in my life until I started writing this.
I thought I was going to write a short (ha!) piece on how me using alcohol when I don’t actually like alcohol is a symptom of me not having the power to make consistent, conscious choices in my life that honor me and MY preferences, needs, and desires outside of the context of others. And while that is true, that’s not really the direction this piece went.
I thought I was going to explain to you how alcohol was just one of many examples in my life where I take things as they come - where I assume a passive, laissez-faire attitude and “go with the flow,” not because I am a super-cool, fun, chill girl, but because I am an exhausted, fragmented, confused girl who never gives herself the time of day to sit down, slow down, and actually ask and investigate what I like.
Instead, what I realized in writing this is that I used alcohol as a coping mechanism way more than I thought.
Actually, I never thought I used alcohol as a coping mechanism prior to writing this.
But now I can see - clearly - that every time I became uncomfortable or unwilling to sit with myself and deal with the realities of my life (or even just myself), I jumped at the opportunity to use alcohol to momentarily escape and entertain what I perceived to be a less constricting, less serious environment. An environment where no one asked me “What’s wrong?” or “Why are you acting like that?”or “Why are you so sad?” A place where my vulnerabilities and insecurities could fade into the background as I let my most “endearing” qualities shine.
I think I couldn’t see this before because when people talk about having a “problem” with alcohol, they are usually talking about the alcohol itself. The substance. The way it makes them feel. And for me, it appears to be less about the drink and more about the social setting the drink creates - how drinks bring people together, give us an excuse to play a game or do something new and exciting, let us create shared memories, connect…you know the fantasy of it all…because it often never ends there. One drink easily turns into four drinks and then realities and perceptions get blurred so how present are we all with each other anyway?
This has become a highly personal piece.
I am in no way advocating for everyone to stop hanging out with their friends unless it’s “sober quality time.” Yuck. That sounds icky and dogmatic and judgy and it’s just not realistic for most. It’s not even realistic for me, at least not yet, maybe not ever. I don’t know.
And with anything, there are exceptions to the rule. Sometimes, especially now being 31, I genuinely enjoy meeting with a girlfriend over a glass of wine and talking about life. I like going to new breweries and distilleries with my boyfriend because it gives us something new to explore. I cherish having White Russians with my aunt while playing Phase 10 and Skipbo under the glow of her wood-burning fireplace. Alcohol is not the demon.
But if it’s always an element that needs to be present in order for me to find an excuse to connect with people, or have the experiences I desire, or feel like I can be more of my “whole” self, then I need to make some changes. I need to look at why I’m using alcohol as a bridge to connect. I need to need to ask myself if I know how to be comfortable with myself in the presence of others, even those I’m closest with, without alcohol being a complement to the situation.
Because in the right groups, I never even think about alcohol. I have friendships that are so fulfilling that if none of us never had another drink together again, we would carry on just as well. Probably better.
But time and time again, I still default to these deeply engrained drinking patterns. I can see how convenient it is for me to make multiple dinner or “let’s grab a drink” plans per month that occupy my Thursday, Friday, Saturday, sometimes Sunday free-time under the guise of “connecting and catching up.” And while I do connect and catch up, and don’t (usually) end up blacked out at a bar or on someone’s floor anymore, how present am I really being for my life?
What’s the intention on how I’m spending my time? Am I really creating the space I need to work on my goals, or am I just taking the well-traveled easy-way-out path that allows me to feel like I am “doing” things and “living” my life, when in fact I’m neglecting the aspects of myself that need the most time and attention?
I get that how I am correlating alcohol and social settings is uniquely personal to me. The judgements I make about alcohol consumption, of any form for any reason, are my judgements based on my experiences. They should be taken at nothing more than that.
In the same light, my takeaways from all of this will be personal. And right now I’ve learned a couple of things from this exercise:
I jump in and out of “tenses” more frequently than I realized (past to present, present to future, etc.); I’ve learned to believe that alcohol “helps” me calm that chaotic, disjointed thinking by numbing me just enough to feel like I can only be present (i.e., handle) one tense at a time - the present one.
I literally never realized how much power alcohol gave me when I was younger - power to be louder, bolder, less insecure, and more fearless; this exercise made me realize just how long I’ve felt trapped and compartmentalized within myself. Again, the word “disjointed” comes up.
I didn’t realize socializing had become a form of escapism for me.
I have a lot left to explore about the original thing I thought I was going to write about: making conscious choices for my life separate from the influence of others.
If I want to hang out with people and connect, but don’t want it to only be over alcohol, it’s up to me to create those experiences and open up the invitation.
#5 terrifies me, so looks like I can explore the reason for that, too.
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If you’re still here after all this time, thank you. Like I said, I had no idea I was going to unpack all that. I feel like this needs a more proper ending, but frankly, I’ve been writing this as I think it for the past 3 hours and I need to go to bed.
Goodnight.
Cheers!
*P.S. If you feel like you are struggling with alcohol or if you are desiring to explore your relationship to alcohol, there are resources. If you know you need help, consider contacting your local AA chapter. If you’re simply looking to explore more and would like to hear other people’s stories about alcohol, sobriety, or something in between, I’d suggest searching for the words “sober curious” in your Podcast app and listening to whatever you feel connected to.