Down Bad Crying at the Library
“Do you think you could have one drink and be able to stop?”
I get that question posed to me more than any other since I stopped drinking 4 years ago. After 4 years, do I have an answer to that question? Yes. And no.
Sobriety, like college, is four years of hard work that qualifies you for… absolutely nothing. …Except being able to answer very specific questions (like the one mentioned above) on whatever useless concept you studied. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to study, and I love to answer questions about what I’ve studied. Fuck it, I’ll answer questions that nobody asked—I’ll force you into my tutelage by screeching tidbits of medieval literary history until there is blood pouring from thine ear holes.
On the subject of sobriety, I cannot always provide answers to seemingly simple questions. I cannot study addiction the way I would like to study addiction because there are innumerable variables that refuse to tango with human logic. Addiction is a medical condition. Fact. Not an excuse, a fact. Some of us can’t seem to get a nice, tight caulk-seal on our dopamine receptors and when it involves a dangerous substance, it becomes an even more dangerous problem. Why some people can satisfy their lust for rebelliousness with a sleeve of Oreos instead of Canadian Club is a mystery that neither I, nor the Surgeon General, can solve.
Could I have one drink and stop? Yes. That night. But then I would believe that I could have one drink the next night. And the next night. Then I would think that I was so good at just having one drink, imagine how great I would be at having two drinks… we all know where this is going…
It is dispiriting to those of us who have eluded the call of the bottle for any amount of time that we cannot pull addicts out of the gutter and give them solutions and answers to their problem. We wish like hell that we could. When Matthew Perry died last year, people were paying tribute to him by posting the quote that he wished would be his final tribute:
“The best thing about me is that if an alcoholic comes up to me and says, ‘Will you help me stop drinking?’ I will say, ‘Yes. I know how to do that.'”
Maybe he knew something that I don’t or maybe he was paraphrasing himself, but I surely do not know how to directly help someone stop drinking. I know what steps they can take to sorta move kinda in the direction of getting sober… I know how to drag someone to an AA meeting. Although, in my experience, taking someone who is not in the right headspace for an AA meeting to an AA meeting will just make them want to drink away the memory of that one AA meeting.
Even worse, AA meetings are not the only unpleasant events that can evoke the need to drink, and those evocations are different for every drinker. We are not addicted to the taste of tequila or the sensation of lifting our fist from bar to mouth—we are addicted to the way alcohol makes us feel, which is also different for every person. Some alcoholics are addicted to feeling nothing. Some alcoholics are addicted to feeling uninhibited. I, personally, am addicted to feeling like I’m a better person than I am. I’m addicted to how witty, attractive, daring, charismatic, and alluring drinking makes me feel. You best believe, I am none of those things when I’ve been drinking. I’m a bloated, slurring, feisty, fun-ruining goblin whilst drunk but I’m too drunk to know the difference.
The truth comes to light, rest assured. Once sobriety sinks in—and it won’t take long—you realize that you are a much better dry person than a drunk person. However, 4 years of sobriety has brought 4 years of no escape hatch for the lowest of moments. I think I gave the wrong impression last week (I even scared my mother) when I said that I had never struggled more with sobriety than I do at this moment.
My word choice was poor. My temptation to drink is low. I’m surrounded by booze all the time, if I were gonna break, I would break. My fiancé drinks (not often) and I learned recently that I can mix a decent sazerac (I assume, I can’t taste it to check.) We spent all last week at my sister and brother-in-law’s house, which is stocked with more quality whiskey than an Irish gentleman’s club. No joke. Their kitchen cabinets are like prison toilets. This is America—there is alcohol available at every grocery store, gas station, pharmacy, restaurant, stadium… long story short, if I were going to drink, I’d drink.
I had a baby three months ago. Four months ago, I got engaged to an absolutely wonderful man. I deserve neither. I’m too aware of it. When I said I was struggling, what I meant was this: I wish I were worthy of the life I have. Four years ago, I could have drank until I felt like the kind of person I wanted to be. Being blissfully happy is so daunting, ya know? It was actually easier to be miserable and sober than it is to be happy and sober.
Sobriety feels like the correct punishment when you know you should be punished. Sobriety is empowering when you need to feel empowered. Sobriety is something you lean on when things don’t go your way. When I busted my ass to save my marriage and it still wasn’t saved, I felt weirdly balanced. My immense efforts didn’t pay off, fine, but something like that—that would break almost anybody—it didn’t break me. Going back to school at age 30 could have been a constant humiliation, but I didn’t have room for that attitude. Those 21-year-olds could keep their kegs, and their C’s, and their dreams of tiktok fame. My eye bags and I will set that inconvenient high curve, thank you very much. Dating? Not as hard as you’d think. Not a single person, though there were few, cared one lick if was sober—in a good way. Relationships? There was only one. It was going to end and it was going to hurt whether I was a super model, a scholar, a Stepford wife, drunk, sober, or an alien.
I ramble with humble brags to say this—I have no idea how to bequeath sobriety unto someone else because I have to change my approach to sobriety with every new phase of my life. What I am ready and willing to do, however, is be available and vulnerable for anyone who needs help being sober through the phases of their own life. I can’t write a guide, but I can demonstrate. I don’t recommend copying my methods verbatim because I do screw up a lot. Like a lot, a lot. But I have managed to move through all stages sans booze, and I intend to continue doing so. Also, I have great mocktail recipes and a qualified therapist.
