Now You See What a Snake I Can Be
I spent the summers of my childhood running barefoot through dewy grass, splashing in the lake behind our house, sinking my teeth into fresh tomatoes and peaches from our garden, sunset leering and star gazing from the back parch porch. The lifestyle was idyllic and the memories are irreplaceable. Still, even in the perfect corner of the world, there were always things to remain mindful of. When dashing into our unfinished basement for a float or a freezie-pop, we kept our eyes peeled for a polished black spider with a red dot on its hindquarters. In the lake, you did not want to plant your foot down into the mud and find a lazy snapping turtle lying in wait. Although, I’d rather have a cooter latch onto my toes than piss-off a Canadian goose—those guys will fight and hold a grudge.
The most elusive backyard threat, however, was the one that did not have to elude us at all. It is North Carolina, after all, so it was not unusual to find a copperhead snake sitting atop the mulch under the apple tree, curled around the base of a tomato vine, or openly sunning itself on the hot sand next to the water. This villain did not have to skulk in the depths or construct its web in a dark corner behind a workbench. God blessed this serpent with a disguise that allowed it to be anywhere it wanted to be at any given time and still not be seen until it was time to strike.
Camouflage is not something humans were endowed with-- it is a tool that we stole. From cloaking our armies, to a serial killer wearing dad jeans, camouflage is a technique that we have perfected as a species. So much so that hunters have to wear a scrap of neon orange to keep from accidentally shooting each other. We have even taken it a step farther than blending visually with our surroundings. We have cultivated the ability to lie, and act, and operate like the people around us, so we not only look as if we belong, we also behave as if we do. Unless you are an animal, or in the witness protection program, this ability to “act as if” has nothing to do with survival anymore. Humans fake it to fit in so that they can get ahead, or stay ahead, and maintain a lifestyle that is ideal for their own ego.
Nobody, and I mean nobody fakes normal human behavior like an addict. Even in the moments when our façade obviously cracks, it’s a small percentage compared to how often we are successfully blending in. We’re just that good at lying. Why? Because if we are discovered to be the raging drunk, drug user, junkie that we are, then the jig is up. We will have to abandon our families to live with our vice, or we will have to attempt to abandon our vice to get right with our family. In active addiction, we don’t like either option.
Its easy to blend in with your neighbors in a graveyard, which is handy because an addict’s only two options are to get sober or die. Looking like you belong among sober people, with no tardy history or all-consuming cravings for deadly and illegal substances, is a more challenging feat. I know plenty of alcoholics who, despite decades of sobriety, still can’t go near a bar. They can’t enjoy a day at the beach, they can’t attend a neighborhood BBQ, they can’t even go to a family restaurant where domestic bottled beer is an option as a beverage. I hate it for them, I suppose. I don’t know if they are delicate or if I am just lucky, but so far, being around booze and people boozing hasn’t been an issue for me.
Last night, at the last minute, some good friends and I managed to meet up at a Speakeasy downtown for a little girls-only celebration. It was one of those bougie bars where you have to have a membership, the entrance is hidden, and a dress code is strictly enforced, but once you are inside, you feel special and fancy. At $15 a cocktail, I was pretty glad to be to not be drinking. The six of us laughed, shared stories, nibbled on speck, brie, crème brûlée and panna cotta, fawned over the wallpaper in the ladies’ room, and made the waiter uncomfortable with our topics of conversation. Ya know, the usual.
Before we knew it, three hours had gone by and, being a weeknight, we had to call it. It was an outing we had all needed after a year in isolation due to quarantine or a toddler-enforced hostage situation. The evening was much needed and refreshing and had gone off without a hitch, except for the part where they almost didn’t let my sister in because of her army print pants. Luckily, she had paired them with a smart blouse and $500 shoes. Oh, and she can talk her way into-- or out of-- pretty much anything.
On the drive back to the suburbs, my mother reached over and turned the music down from the passenger seat.
“Does it bother you to be around people drinking? Were you ok tonight?”
“Of course, I was fine. …did I not seem ok?” For a second, I worried that I had accidentally wandered out of the house wearing a “Sober and Miserable” sandwich board over my cocktail dress.
“No, no! You were fine! You were hilarious. You looked amazing. I was just making sure you were alright…”
“Yes, mom. I am alright.”
Truthfully, I am alright, in regard to drinking. In the rest of my life, however, my camouflage is just too Goddamn good.
There is a reversal that happens when an addict achieves sobriety. Addiction is an extremely selfish affliction: our behavior when high, our willingness to do anything to get high, the way we lie, steal, cheat, yell, hide, run, and make constant excuses affects everyone around us. Even though addicts are miserable people through and through, we also make other people miserable, yet we have the luxury of getting drunk and high about it.
I get it, believe me. It doesn’t matter why we became addicts, if there is a “why.” It doesn’t matter what we struggled with that was so torturous that alcoholism was the better option. How we perceived ourselves as humans before addiction and after addiction is irrelevant. It matters that we hurt and inconvenienced other people. I can’t speak for other addicts but putting an end to making my loved ones collateral damage is the reason I needed to finally stop.
Underneath that drunk, and on the other side of the drunkenness, is a very real person. Me. Hi! I am a person who is mortified at the damage I caused in the past few years and not at all proud or alright with it. I am a person who battles with the futility of trying to fix it daily. I am person who is, and always will be, an addict. I am a person who is terrified in every moment that cravings, temptation, and negligence will come back out of nowhere with a vengeance and I will truly be that hopeless, powerless, gutless drunk that most people already think I am. I am a person who struggles with constant anxiety. I am a person who is bipolar II and bitter than it wasn’t diagnosed sooner so I could have handled it properly instead of drinking until I felt “normal.” I am person who lost the love of their life this year, despite taking every possible action that I could to convince them to stay. I am a person who feels lost 99% of the time. I am a person who runs full force into my makeshift future plans, despite my underlying fear that I don’t really have a future at all. I am a person who feels like a 30-year-old joke. I am a person who just had their entire life turned upside down and everyone thinks I deserve it because, “well, you drank.”
Maybe it’s all my fault for losing my battle with alcohol. Maybe it’s all my fault for making sobriety look easy and appealing. When I’m dolled-up with curls in my hair and lipstick on my pout in a dress that is a size 2, it can appear as if I am winning and well. I’m not. I’m a turtle in the mud and a snake in the mulch. Its not a matter of trying harder or doing things differently. I am quite confident that I do all I can with what I have at the moment, which is something to be proud of, sure. But when someone asks me, “are you alright?”, I don’t understand their question. Am I alright sipping my tonic water with a squeeze of lime? Absolutely. Am I alright enough to not get drunk and ruin your life again? Absolutely. Then I will borrow my sister’s army pants and leave the conversation right there- where people want to keep it.
