Before giving up alcohol completely, my husband and I were a part of the music festival/indie jam band scene. We'd spend our summers touring ours and the surrounding states just to witness our favorite bands and take part in the incredible community that exists within this subculture. In the winter, we'd pack ourselves into our vehicle once a month and take a three hour drive just to see those same bands play tightly packed shows in dive bars. It was always a blast....
Then we got sober. Suddenly, these shows were just booze-fueled headaches.
Here's something that nobody seems to be talking about: Music festivals and concerts can be an incredibly difficult and isolating place if you are sober.
(I want to take a beat here and clarify what I'm trying to say. Music festivals and concerts have a notorious reputation for drug use and abuse, but I'm fortunate to have been in a community that either did not participate in or sheltered me from such things. I am talking specifically about my experiences with alcohol.)
Drinking doesn't just seem to be accepted, it's encouraged. Prior to sobriety, I had made several good friends by "slapping the bag" (a term for when one removes the bladder from box wine, carries it around with them and offers individuals the opportunity to slap the back and take a drink). When I got sober, I still received offers, but when I said, "No thanks! I don't drink," I was often asked why or told that it was "just wine" and that it "didn't even count".
That bothered me. It didn't bother me that someone was being polite and making an offer, it bothered me that my experience was being discounted. It bothered me that my voice wasn't being heard. It bothered me that I was being asked to explain or justify my reasons for abstaining from alcohol and changing my life to a stranger who was breathing alcohol in my face....
We stuck it out for a while, though. We tried to remain a part of this counter-culture and community for almost a year after giving up drinking, but we were never able to find our place. Maybe we weren't looking in the right places, maybe we didn't have the right attitudes, but we just couldn't find likeminded people.
There were some who thought we were judging them for drinking, others who made it their mission or goal to get us to break our commitment to ourselves (it was like an early 90s ad for peer pressure!) Most frustrating though, is when someone says, "Oh yeah, I don't drink either except for weekends/holidays/anniversaries/parties/special occasions/days that end in y." Whenever someone says that to me I just want to say, "Yeah? Because I don't drink. Ever. Because I can't use alcohol the way you do."
It's not that I have a problem with people drinking (I actually enjoy using my sobriety to ensure the safety of people that I love. I don't mind being the DD, or lending a shoulder to steady a friend, or talking to someone who is feeling emotional. I mean, it's not exactly my first choice to deal with vomit, but if someone is sick, I am actually able to help them these days) . I have a problem with people not recognizing MY problem with drinking. I choose not to drink because I don't know how to moderate use. I choose not to drink because I use it to self medicate. I choose not to drink because I don't know how to stop. I choose not to drink because I get weird and self destructive and hypersexual. I choose not to drink because it did nothing but lead me down a path of abuse and depression. I choose not to drink because I love my life more than I love not feeling things that scare me.
And I hate feeling like I'm the odd girl out just because I've made a decision to change myself and my life for the better. I hate feeling like I don't fit in because I don't have a glass in my hand. I hate being considered a "downer" or a "buzzkill" for being able to walk someone through the events of a night. I hate being isolated and ignored and not invited to parties simply because I'm making a decision that is healthy for me (and my relationships!)
I wish that I could consume alcohol in a way that was healthy, but I can't. I don't know how, and I know, deep in my addict-heart, that there is no way to learn.
Most people don't realize that I've chosen sobriety over socialization. Most people probably don't realize that those were the only options I had at the time.
I'm sad that this has caused me to become an outcast in the only world I ever felt that I belonged in, but I guess that happens. So it goes, right?
Another post that feels like you took the words right out of my head. ;) This has been my same experience. Only, because Hippie Bill had also gotten sober...he wanted a gathering that WAS sober at the farm. That's really how Healing in the Heartland began...it was his idea (though he only got to be physically present for the first one...he has very obviously been there in spirit for the 3 that have followed). It was a hard task to make it an alcohol and drug-free, family friendly gathering. People didn't like the idea, most of them anyway. It narrowed everything down from a raucous party to a much smaller group of people who understood that the real reason we were still getting together was for each other. But even dear, sweet Ed (who we affectionately call 'Uncle Skunk-bear' after his first shamanic journey that he had...while very drunk...took him on a hilariously epic journey to highlight his own alcoholism) remained sober-till-Sunday for at least two of those gatherings. People still snuck some things in...but most respected Bill enough to 'keep it in their tents'...and nobody got so drunk that they didn't respect the family-friendly atmosphere of having a lot of kids be an integral part of the festivities. Each year, though, it has gotten smaller and smaller. For some, like me, it has been a bit of a blessing really...less variables...more people just there for the love of the memories. There have been a few locals who have stopped by on occasion with a 12 pack, hoping for a party when they saw the cars and the fire...but we have had to, sadly, turn them away in order to maintain the idea that Bill put forth before he passed (though it is hard for any of us, as it was for Bill, to not just welcome anyone and everyone 'home'). Though we all miss the bands playing (by 2011, when H in the H began, none of had the money to pay for them anymore), and the spectacle of strange people...it is much easier to bring out the healing aspect of what Bill was trying to do by bringing me into the fold and pushing me out of my one-on-one comfort zone to guide a group toward healing not only themselves but also the planet. I love him for that push...because it has forced me, in the best of ways, to do what I love on a greater scale. I think you and Devon would really like what Hidden Acres has become. though we only gather once a year, we make the best of our weekend together there.
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