I've never sat and evaluated my relationship with alcohol. But it's time.
This is a blog where I've read about alcoholism in some very real ways, which I've appreciated. The struggles that Joe goes through with it. Gilson saying
"there are no good alcoholics." It's all stuck with me. I can look up and convince myself that I've never been there. And the truth is, I haven't in a way that's strongly affected my life. I haven't ever had anyone tell me I have a drinking problem. My grandfather was an alcoholic, yes, and my mom calls him a functioning alcoholic. He ran a successful business while intoxicated a lot of the time. I don't think I understand the extent to which that affected my mom's family life growing up. In fact, there's so much I don't know about my parents that I want to know.
The first time I drank in any meaningful way was junior year of high school, at the afterprom party. We sat in Josh's basement and had some kind of liquor. I got drunk. I didn't know what that really meant. I just knew I hadn't had the chance to get drunk before that night, and everyone else was doing it; it felt like this awesome forbidden thing, something I had to. I didn't get wasted. I got just drunk enough to feel that hook of how beautiful being intoxicated can seem.
That was a jumbled time. After the afterprom, my high school life kicked into a higher gear. I had my first kiss with the person who would become my first love. We weren't drunk when we kissed, but she came over a month later during spring break and we raided my parents' liquor cabinet. Getting drunk on chocolate orange liquor is the worst idea, but we didn't have any options and we didn't know any better. That time we got wasted. Our friends came over. I don't remember too much, but I made some kind of fool out of myself. Then I threw up and thought throwing up meant I was no longer drunk, so I drove her home. To this day I don't know if I was actually drunk driving or not. If I was, maybe that's the worst thing I've ever done.
There were only a handful more high school parties. Every time I got drunk, I got close to sick. I didn't know it was possible to drink in any other way. This pattern continued into college. I imagine many of us had similar experiences. And, still, I never really felt I had a problem. Everyone was doing it. Even when I woke up freshman year to being told I had vomited all over a guest house where I didn't live (I had no memory, but they were PISSED), even when waking up on two separate occasions first semester of sophomore year to discover that I had vomited in my sleep and my floor was covered in it (terrifying), even when I said some truly terrible things to a homecoming date while wasted, I didn't think there was anything really wrong.
Drinking had its benefits. It was incredibly fun. I felt free, the life of the party. My second and third kisses both happened while drunk. I had walked around my whole life with the anvil of being a "quiet kid" firmly wrapped around my neck. Alcohol was a way out of that for me. I don't know if I realized it at the time, but when you're told enough times that you're "awesome" when you're drunk, it starts to stick with you. I was never a consistent drinker, and there were plenty of social occasions where I didn't drink (most of them). But when I did drink, I went hard.
Over the years I drank and I didn't drink. It was always around. It was great, it was awful. I threw up a few more times. I had lots of conversations I don't remember to this day. I've been hungover many times. I've been on dates, getting drinks. There's nothing like the buzz of walking into a party having pregamed just the right amount. You feel like nothing can stop you. You're on top of the world. Even the light buzz of an IPA with someone you like on an empty stomach is such a wonderful feeling.
But am I an alcoholic? Definitely not. Definitely not. Right? I never drink regularly. There are plenty of times when I refuse alcohol. I'm not an alcoholic. I'm not an alcoholic. I'm good while sober. Right? Right? RIGHT???
***
I generally feel anxious walking into a party. So there have been times when I've drunk beforehand, to go in there with that armor of feeling tipsy.
This topic came up for me this week because my friend had a birthday party on Monday. It wasn't an especially high pressure party. I knew most people there; it was a small affair. But for some reason I didn't want to walk in there sober. I didn't eat dinner on purpose, and I drank two beers before I came in. They had punch when I got there, and I drank two cups. I felt hazy. I had a great time. I felt invincible. I was friendly with everyone, and any feeling of social anxiety that I might have had if sober just didn't come up. That's what drinking does. It skips all the normal human emotional steps and puts you at a Level 8 or 9 to start. Who wouldn't want that?
The next day, though, I didn't feel great. I wasn't that hungry. My body was not its happiest. I slept terribly that night. Did I really need to get drunk on a Monday night like that? To that extent?
Later in the week I threw a bit of a bash at my apartment to celebrate a big milestone—over the course of five years, I had publicly read every single word of the Torah in synagogue on Saturday mornings (hard to explain here fully. Google "leyning" if you're interested). Anyways, I invited tons of people, nearly everyone I know in Tel Aviv. Inviting that many many is mostly out of fear that no one will show, so I would have to cover for myself in case my party is a total embarrassment. I also know how bad I feel when I'm excluded, so I don't want to exclude anyone, even though in the end there are people I forgot to invite, and, of course, there were some people who I chose not to invite. I also subscribe to Joe's
thought from his Senior Week that if I invite them, they have to invite me, right? Of course, that's not how it works. But I still tell myself that's the truth.
Anyway, an incredible number of people showed up. Maybe 80? It was amazing. And people kept giving me drinks. "L'chaim to this! L'chaim to that!" I didn't feel drunk. I was intoxicated on talking to everyone, on being the center of attention. And I had the best time. I was so, so happy.
It was only later that night, when I reflected on the party, that I realized something.
I barely remember any of the content of the conversations I had with people at the party.
Now, I'm sure that's partially because of the staggering amount of people who were there, the distraction of needing to replace finished trays of pasta with fresh ones. trying to say and bye to everyone who walked through the door. But I also think it's because I was drunk.
And that made me sad. What a fucking waste. I want to know what I talked about with people! Instead, it's all mostly a haze. I don't think the joy of the party was nullified in any way, but I felt like I had missed something.
My brain started to play tricks on me. Maybe I don't know how to interact without alcohol (evidence in my life shows this to be false, of course, but the brain can be a powerful and sinister place). Maybe I do, in fact, have a drinking problem, even if I don't meet the classic definition of alcoholic. Drinking is so socially acceptable. Everyone seems like they do it. Writing it off? How sad!
I'd also be losing a tool in my toolbox that allows me to deal with the world. And I think this is a key point. Even when I go a long time sober, I still know I always have alcohol to fall back on. It's a security blanket, even when I'm not using it.
I've been to two other social gatherings since my party. At the first one, I felt super uncomfortable. My brain was being incredibly mean to me, telling me that no one likes me without alcohol, that I'm not wanted, etc. etc. etc. Still, I interacted with people. It was hard to do it at first with the self-sabotage that was going on, but it went alright, even if I didn't feel fully like myself. And last night I went to another party. I vowed to not drink. I knew I had to prove to myself I could make it through, rip off that metaphorical Band-Aid.
I felt weird at first. But a good friend came. We had a great chat. And by the time I left that party, I felt good about myself again. And I didn't feel sick.
Still, I know in some ways it probably would have been more fun if I had been drunk. I probably would have been more friendly, taken more risks in talking to new people. I don't wish I had been drinking, not at all. But still. I know the reality of what it can do. I just got invited to another gathering, this time an engagement party. I don't want to drink. I don't want to do it! And because I know I don't want to do it, I already feel the anxiety building up. What if I make a fool of myself? What if no one likes me? What if, what if, what if? All these thoughts that alcohol nullifies. There's no need to be introspective when you're drunk. Life is right there for you on a silver platter. You don't need therapy if you're drunk all the time, because you think of yourself as perfect and strong and the person you want to be.
Until the next day. The next month, the next year, your entire life. Has alcohol destroyed relationships for me, has it been toxic? Not enough to convince me to stop. But I don't want to feel like I want to have it so badly sometimes. And you never know what terrible thing you might say to someone while drunk, how shitty you might feel physically, how it might actually take years off your life.
There are no grand statements I can say about my alcohol use. It's just the words above. There's more to say. But for now, I leave it there, in some kind of unknown. There are no answers to these questions.
