Don't Mind if I Don't

My fellow young United-Statesans, this is especially for you.

Written somewhere between JULY 4th and AUGUST 6th, 2024

On June 6th of this year, I celebrated one year of sobriety and celibacy. Since I started drinking at age 17 - though even my friends wouldn’t consider me to ever have been a “drinker” - I’ve only gone 3 consecutive months without drinking a couple times. I wasn’t guilted into abstaining from either of these activities. On June 6th, 2023, I didn’t swear I’d never drink or have sex again. I had simply grown tired of feeling like shit, and having shit experiences under the influence. The thing is, when I hold my liquor well, I don’t really feel that much different than I do when I’m sober. If I’m not holding my liquor well, any number of horrors could - and have - occurred, such as non-consensual sex and violence. (I once punched a guy in the face three times on a first date because I felt completely out of my wits, and didn’t trust him to not take advantage of me. He also grabbed me aggressively. Don’t worry, I made sure to aim for the fleshy part of his cheek, he walked away without any scratches or bruises, and later told mutual acquaintances that it kind of turned him on.)

On June 5th of last year, I went on a fifth date with a guy that, while at dinner, I explained I was looking for something committed, and didn’t want to be having casual sex. What I wanted was a defined relationship before heading into the bedroom. What I got was a lame lay that night, induced by alcohol, and zero follow up from him afterwards. Apparently this is a pattern with French men.

I had grown so tired of being taken advantage of, and making myself vulnerable to people under the influence, that I simply said, “screw it.” I’m not going to drink, and see what happens. So one month became two, two became three, and after three months, my anxiety had decreased significantly. I simply didn’t miss alcohol. I am a fun and interesting person, I can have fun drinking mocktails, and keep my wits about me. But not only that, my entire life began to heal.

What I wasn’t numbing with alcohol, and distracting myself from by going on dates with unconscious men, I was able to really sit with, feel, move through, and reframe. It was hard. And painful. The previous 7 years had already been filled with immense grief and loneliness. I was fucking tired. Emotions and beliefs I thought I’d let go of were still there, imbedded in my subconscious, my tissues, my circuitry. I have a big wound around devaluation and abandonment. Not because I’ve ever been “physically” abandoned in my life, but many times emotionally. And so, sobriety has become my way of taking my power back, restoring my self-respect, and raising the bar for what goes into my body and what I allow to consume my thoughts. I think I’m learning true intimacy for the first time in my life; intimacy with myself. And in getting to know myself, my energy, my worth, my life more deeply, I’m becoming choosier.

A risk it is to be a woman with standards.

When I tell you the ways I used to leap into action for others. Without even being asked! Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much I’ve done, because quite frankly, I feel a lot of my efforts have gone under-appreciated or unacknowledged. And then I learned that this is simply what it means to be a woman. Getting sober has woken me up. To myself. To my truth. To the parts of myself I haven’t wanted to face, but now that I am, I have so much more agency over to change if I want to.

I’m far more in tune with what’s worth my energy and attention and what isn’t. I’m so much stronger in saying no, and every time I do say no to what isn’t for me, I get stronger. My mind is clearer. My vision is clearer. I waste less time. And of course my standards are higher. They must be. I look back on the past ten years and wonder, who could have become if I’d lived my twenties like I’m now choosing to live my thirties? But time moves on, I’m here now, and I’m better for all the hardships of the last 15 years. How lucky I am to get to start over in my early thirties rather than my fifties or sixties. And with so much more wisdom because I have dared to live.

I feel that functional-alcoholism has gone largely undiagnosed in this country. Alcoholism and addiction run in my family, so I’m already at risk, and I know first-hand the effects of addiction on entire family trees. I once heard someone say that if you black out when you drink, that that’s an indication of alcoholism. Which has happened to me a few times, but I always thought alcoholism was when you can’t start your day without a drink, can’t go a day without drinking, can’t get out of bed, etc. That’s extreme addiction. But what about other levels?

We’ve chosen to self-medicate with a poison that alters our brain chemistry, makes us depressed, anxious, and dehydrated, fucks with our hormones, and stresses our liver. In a time when more young people are being diagnosed with cancer and auto-immune disease than ever before. In a time when more and more women are being diagnosed with endocrine issues like PCOS. In a time where I’m constantly questioning the sanity of nearly everyone. Alcohol is how we’re choosing to deal with it all? Sure, drinking can be a fun way to relieve stress, bring down one’s defenses, and bond with others. I get it. But at a certain point, do we look at how our behavior is negatively affecting our health, and possibly, our relationships? The world? At a certain point, do we not realize that we’re choosing to make ourselves unconscious to what really needs to be faced and dealt with?