Tag: alcoholism

3.5 years

Sitting here socially distanced and masked up since early spring, I often wonder about how much people have likely ramped up drinking – out of fear.

Out of boredom.

Anxiety.

Anger.

So much anger. Because yep, it’s an election year on top of everything else. Just days away from an election that will determine our path forward, for better or worse. There is a brittleness in our communities that seems tangible. It’s just right there, under the surface. I see it when I go to the grocery. I see it on the wearied faces of the checkout clerk. I feel it in the shortness and clipped responses. So much irritability and anger.

Walking through the store, I saw an elderly gentleman while in the store with what looked like at least a dozen bottles of wine. “Eyes on your own cart,” I reminded myself. The mind still wondered though. Maybe he’s buying in bulk. Who knows? Not my business. On a different day, I saw another person juggling 4-5 bottles of hard liquor. Probably having a party of some kind. Whatever. Not my business. These kinds of thoughts flash through my mind in a matter of seconds. I’ve noticed them more frequently lately, and what seems to be an uptick of alcohol purchases at a few of the grocery stores I frequent.

My 3 year soberversary rolled around a few months ago. It’s weird how time works, both dragging and speeding by as we look through the lens of hindsight. Even more so when aboard the careening Corona-coaster that is this year.

Over three years ago we were living in another state, I went veggie right around the same time and homeschooling wasn’t seriously on my radar. Eric had left for the what felt like the longest year and last deployment. (Knock on wood it stays the last!) I was looking at selling the house while he was gone. I had survived closing up the house and evacuating from Hurricane Harvey with a torn up shoulder and a bit more confidence that I could, in fact, do hard things. I chopped off all my hair and started over because I was too impatient to let the dyed/Brazilian blowout part grow.

What a time to choose sobriety.

But thank God I did.

Eyes on my own cart. Eyes on my own path.

Thank God I chose the one I’m on.

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Is there a “wrong” way to do it?

There’s always been something off for me about the label of alcoholic that I’ve never really known how to articulate. Please don’t misunderstand, I don’t think AA is wrong, bad or whatever, but maybe there are more paths to recovery and the way we currently approach addiction and alcohol is not a route that works for everyone. If the main objective is to abstain, however someone goes about it, is it really wrong?

I usually don’t review a book before I’ve actually read the entire thing, but I’m making an exception. I am about half way through Holly Whitaker’s “How To Quit Like a Woman” and I’m completely blown away by her ability to put to words what I felt in my gut but was unable to express in a cohesive way. There are a couple of points Whitaker makes that deeply resonated with me (among about a thousand others so far):

“Alcohol is the only drug in the world where, when you stop taking it, you are seen as having a disease. Because alcohol is the only socially accepted drug, because most of us consume it, because we have come to believe that there are “normal” drinkers and there are “alcoholics,” and because alcoholism is self-diagnosed, it is literally the only drug in the world where you get a label and a lifetime disease once you admit you need to, want to, or do stop….When I drank (and clearly abused), I did not have alcoholism. When I said, ‘I can’t drink,’ I became an alcoholic. Because we believe everyone ‘should’ be able to drink ethanol, and those who can’t are somehow defective, we assign them a label and a lifetime disease.”

She continues on to assert that alcohol is not only addictive to a person labeled as an alcoholic, but to everyone. 

“Alcohol addiction is progressive, that some people are wired a bit differently and are more vulnerable to alcohol addiction…science tells (us) these things…alcohol is addictive to everyone. Yet we’ve created a separate disease called alcoholism and forced it upon the minority of the population who are willing to admit they can’t control their drinking, and because of that, we’ve focused on what’s wrong with those few humans rather than on what’s wrong with our alcohol-centric culture or the substance itself.””What made sobriety so full of wonder is the fact that I didn’t have to negotiate a word that implies a life sentence or a chronic, relapsing disease… what made the label nondrinker downright magical was that it wasn’t synonymous with drunk, inebriate, junkie, addict, lush, wino, liar, or cheat.”

Nondrinker.

It’s sounds weird to my ear because I’m so used to the word alcoholic. Whitaker comments about the fact that we don’t call nonsmokers cigarette-aholics. They are non-smokers. The onus is on the substance, not the person – that’s the simple and huge difference. While it may seem like simple semantics, I am a firm believer in the power of words. Words carry weight, imply, infer and conjure images in our minds. It’s just the way language and culture works. The term non-drinker is empowering. It gives the user the choice, while alcoholic takes all choice away. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter in the long run. If sober, I don’t drink – regardless of a label. Working a program is valuable. Self reflection and conscious examination of one’s self and behaviors is crucial to growth. Maybe if there was less of a stigma associated with sobriety, less normalizing of imbibing ethanol, perhaps more would choose to embrace it?

The First Time

The first time I had a drink, I was 4 or maybe 5 years old. My older step-sisters, in high school at the time, were having a party. I don’t remember much about that night, other than I felt amazing being with all those big people. I was making them laugh! They let me play their ping pong ball game with them, and even let me cheat and win! I don’t remember having an opinion about what I was drinking, or even what it tasted like. I drank it though. I liked the attention. I have a vague recollection of not feeling good, but specifics are not clear. I do recall dark brown fuzzy carpet.

Dragging me by my arm, I was told to go to bed and pretend to be asleep, as people rushed around shushing each other and scrambling to pick up. Hindsight and retelling of family stories years later filled in the gaps that were confusing for me as a child. They were home, and evidently earlier than anticipated.

To this day I do not know where my parents were that night. Or the time I woke up one early morning to a sea of sleeping bags and blankets, covering so many bodies splayed out all over our rec room floor. It was a different time, the eighties. The thought process was “at least they are partying at home instead of out driving around. They are doing it safely”.

I will be 40 in 10 days. I have drank alcohol up until 65 days ago. I didn’t drink in my early teens, but by 18 had a boyfriend with legal friends. For over 20 years I have ….

been an alcoholic? An on and off binge drinker? Both? Does it really matter?

When I look back at my history, on paper yes. If I was reading this about someone else, it would leave no doubt. Of course she’s an alcoholic. But because it’s me, it’s somehow normal….

It’s not that bad…I didn’t wake up and have a bottle of vodka for breakfast. (Although I’ve had Kahlua in my morning coffee on a couple of occasions with friends.) I didn’t hide bottles. I never drank before work. I did strategize calorie consumption with alcohol, as in skipping meals to get tipsy quicker, skip meals to compensate for anticipated alcohol consumption. Switched from sugar- and calorie-dense cocktails to straight liquor over the years. Granted, the worst of the bottom occurred in my twenties.  I didn’t drink while pregnant. After the kids were born, I drank, but responsibly. I didn’t drink alone.

Until I did.

I’ve had horrendous hangovers, but never withdrawal symptoms. Or so I thought. Don’t all people when hung over get the shakes? No? Just me?

I think that’s the thing. That alcoholic term is so loaded. (Pun not really intended, but I’m leaving it there.) Alcoholics are physically addicted, right? Was I physically addicted? Maybe….

I don’t think it matters.

I no longer care what the definition is. Alcohol does not work for me. It doesn’t make me feel good, it doesn’t improve my life. It never feels as good as that elusive just-tipsy-but-not-drunk feeling does for that brief moment. Chasing that ever-closing window of buzzed perfection always led way past excess. When having 1 leads to 10, it’s not good regardless of whatever the definition says. I love the way Jim states it at Fit Recovery, “I didn’t want to drink, I wanted drunk.”

Exactly.

I am done wrestling with am I or not. Doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?

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