If I Could Van Gogh Back In Time
On Mondays and Wednesdays when I teach, I try to dress and act like a professional adult (aged 31 years). On Tuesdays and Thursdays, however, I have a little fun with assimilating. I’m definitely too old to roll out of bed, have a Four Loko for breakfast, slide on a tank top and my boyfriend’s sweatpants and be a bombshell… but I experiment with the miniskirts, the crop tops, the resurrected 90’s baby doll dress, and I occasionally part my hair in the middle. My camouflage must be clever, because my classmates are always shocked when/if they find out that I’m an adult adult.
Yesterday morning in my French Art and Society class we discussed Vincent Van Gogh, and afterward the two children next to me asked if I would come “hang out with them at the pool.” I was flattered. I felt like I was finally one of the cool girls… but I politely declined because a.) I left recreational suntanning in the 2000s where it belongs, and b.) there is always a chance that in an extended interaction with youths, I’ll slip and mention where I was on 9/11 or the plight of filling up the gas tank of a Ford Explorer during the 2008 recession, and my cover will be blown. As the two babies exited the classroom, my professor (who is well aware of my elderly status) said, “You know, they both turned 20 this month and I don’t envy them at all. Would you go back to age 20 if you could?”
I thought about it very briefly and said, “I’d sooner cut off my own ear and offer it to a hooker, than go back to age 20.”
I meant it.
Would it be nice to have taut skin and all the possibilities of life ahead of me again? Sure. But I think of 20-year-olds in the same manner that I think about people who are still in active alcoholism. They have no internal scale to properly balance the things that are important long-term, verses things that seem imperative tonight, right now, right this minute. The opinions of others seem important. Being present at cool places with cool people and posting it on the ‘gram is important. That guy who won’t call you his girlfriend and only texts you at 2am asking “U up?” Oh, yes, he is very important.
It’s not that I’ve forgotten what its like to be 20 years old, with 20-year-old priorities… Jesus, my “U up?” guy started dating another girl and I handled it (maturely) by moving to Florida. I can smirk and roll my eyes at college gals and wistfully say, “oh, to be young again…” but in the context of addiction, I can’t indulge that attitude.
Every baby in recovery has the same hurdle to jump. When I say “baby,” I mean newcomer, so these babies can be anywhere from 14 to 70 years old. They have accepted that they have a problem. They have reached a point where they know they have to get sober or they will ruin their life, ruin the lives of others, kill someone, or die. They’ve taken the hard step of showing up at, arguably, the most awkward place on earth: a suburban AA meeting. Now their problem is this: “I can’t picture my life without alcohol.”
Guys… its not a small problem. It’s a rooted perspective that makes sobriety look like an impossible feat. Think about it. Even if you aren’t an alcoholic, think about it—think about going through life naked without a constant. Think about going forward knowing that at every event you’ll either be horribly uncomfortable or excluded all together. Think about going to the frontlines of a war armed with a slingshot because you lost your gun privileges. While I know that none of those fears will be actualized in sobriety, I absolutely remember feeling that way when I was struggling. You know that continuing to drink isn’t sustainable, but you can’t wrap your brain around what your life will look like without being able to drink. You feel stuck. You feel scared. And if you’re scared and stuck anyway, why not have a drink while you wait for these things to sort themselves out?
Speaking of that bad boyfriend from our 20s, remember how hard it was to leave him? Oh wait… you didn’t leave him, did you? Nah. He left you. For someone hotter. And younger. And sluttier. (I’m not bitter.) You had no choice but to cry it out on your way to Florida because you didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was gone and you had to deal with it. Alcoholism feels a lot like that, except for one major difference: alcohol will not be the lover to leave you. You have to find the strength to leave him—something you couldn’t muster the willpower to do in any other scenario in your life.
If it sounds like a silly comparison to you, you obviously don’t have any empathy for your former self. In an interview with Graham Norton, Elton John confidently admitted that he wrote a Dear John letter to drugs and alcohol saying, “I love you, but we can never meet again.” If Elton John isn’t above that approach to recovery, then nobody is. And none of us who are successful in recovery are above remembering our own experience of having the futile and crazy notion of, “I can’t picture my life without alcohol.”
Y’all… I’ve seen a lot of devastation in addiction. I’ve been devastated by my own actions, I’ve been devastated by the cautionary tales of others, I’ve felt the unique devastation of getting close to someone in recovery and thinking, “They’ve got it. They’re gonna make it.” Then in a matter of weeks or days being told that they didn’t make it. I’ve devastated myself by having the reaction that only an addict (sober or otherwise) can have upon hearing that addiction killed someone they care about, which is to shrug and think, “Maybe its better this way.” And mean it.
For me, the pinnacle of devastation came when I got a handle on sobriety. I committed to it long enough to realize that I could commit to it for even longer. Forever, in fact. Once you get rolling, you understand quickly that sobriety is not a feat like scaling Everest. It’s a marathon run on flat ground. You don’t even have to run it, you can walk. You can crawl. You can hop on a bike for all we care, as long as you keep moving forward. Once you get over the dread of what you think getting sober will be… its actually easy. Living sober is easy (a lot easier than scrambling to stay drunk, and it makes every other part of your life even easier. Its win/win situation for you, your psyche, and your family. Its amazing.
That’s good news, right? What could be devastating about that?
Knowing that you absolutely could have done it sooner. People you love would be unhurt. Lost things would be unlost.
That’s just life under the thumb of addiction and perspective. You have to make it to the sober side to see that your biggest fears about sobriety are not the least bit fearsome. You won’t be horribly uncomfortable at every event. You’ll be confident and present. You won’t be excluded from things if you make it clear that you don’t want to be excluded. In fact, you’ll be included more often because sober you is actually fun to be around. Sure, going into battle with a slingshot is intimidating and seems unfair… unless you are damn good with a slingshot. The whole point of recovery is to stop fixating on the murderous tools you no longer have, and to become proficient with the tools that you do have.
As much as I lament the hurt I caused people in that time period when I knew I needed to stop drinking, but wasn’t prepared to begin my ascent on Everest, I would be hesitant to go back in time and do anything differently. Just as I would not want to return to age 20. Not because I don’t want to undo it, but because I don’t know that I could undo it. We grow wise with experience, and there’s no proof that we can grow wise without experience. If I hadn’t had the bad boyfriend and learned my lesson at 20, I might have made it to 30 not knowing the difference between what I will tolerate and what I actually deserve. If sobriety hadn’t come to me at a time and place where I had drawn a firm line between what I was willing to lose, and what I wasn’t willing to lose, I could be putting my family through an even worse hell of seeing me sober for long periods, seeing me drink again for short periods, and never knowing which me they could rely on to show up.
I like my life this way. I’m a simple girl, I enjoy long walks on the beach with nice men and stability in addiction recovery. Even though it will fall on deaf ears, I like telling drunk people that alcohol is not as important as they are making it out to be. Its not a necessity on a pedestal, it’s an infestation of tiny pests. Getting sober won’t feel like climbing Everest if you can understand that booze is just a cockroach. Just like “U up?” guy, it isn’t a relationship you need tears and years to overcome, it’s just a bug you need to squash.
