Musings of a dry-drunk.

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?

My First Love (Pt 1)

My love affair with alcohol started well before I was close to the legal drinking age.

When I was fifteen, I entered into my first serious relationship.  Like most romantic attachments formed as a teenager, it was an intense courtship and I was very much in love.  The object of my affection was 2 years older than me and was the kind of individual who garnered a great deal of respect in the Theater/Performing Arts department of our tiny school.  

Dating someone so out of my league gave me a small amount of confidence in myself, but all of my self worth was hinged on that relationship.  There were several reasons that the relationship was unhealthy, but it essentially boiled down to his need for power and control.  At the time, I was so happy to be getting attention from anyone that I was unable to see the level of abuse that I endured.  It was almost never physical (as if that somehow makes it better), but he wormed his way so far into my brain that I was, essentially, a slave for his love.

As I've stated before, I was universally hated and mistreated in school.  Because of this, he felt a great deal of shame in dating me and for the first several months of our relationship, we hid it from almost everyone.  I knew what was going on, and had, in fact, agreed to hide our affair.  When he asked me to be his girlfriend, he actually laid that out as a condition.  "We don't parade this," he said.  "We don't need anybody to know what's going on."  

Looking back, I see just how desperate I was for...anything, really.

It's not hard to wrap one's mind around that relationship dissolving, but it wasn't something that happened quickly.  In fact, it was almost 2 years before things ended.  Being older than me, he had moved almost 3 hours away and had begun college.  I somehow managed to grow more and more insecure about our relationship which lead me to do tell him all kinds of insane tall-tales in attempt to win his attention/affection.  That ended up backfiring on me (thankfully), and when he came home to visit several friends, he dumped me.  I had become too much drama to handle and the distance prevented him from being able to control and manipulate me in a way that was entertaining.  

Needless to say, I was devastated.  This boy was the first person I'd encountered who had made me feel like I might be worth something.  I didn't understand the sickness of the relationship or how miserable it was.  I didn't see the level of control or manipulation, and I didn't care about the abuse (as long as enduring it meant he would keep loving me).  All I saw was that the person I loved had decided that he didn't love me anymore.  And I fucking lost it.

For a while, I laid in bed and cried.  I listened to sad music, watched cheesy romance movies and did all the stereotypical, halfway normal things you do when you're 17 and mourning a relationship.

Then, one day, a friend of mine invited me out.  He said I had to get out of bed and move on with my life.  So, I did.  

I'd drank before, although not often and not much.  If anything, I'd put on a bit of a buzz, but it's safe to say that until that night, I'd only been drunk maybe once.  

When I arrived at the party, I remember feeling really out of place and awkward.  There were a few girls my age there.  I knew a couple of them, but they were saddled up close to a couple men that I didn't know, so I pretty much went straight for the booze.  

I remember that it was cheap vodka, and I liked the way that it burned.  I drank straight from the bottle, dancing, losing my inhibitions, talking to men much, much older than me.....  and then things got foggy.  From then on it's only images---still frames.  I remember crying to one of the older men about how my boyfriend had dumped me.  I remember him holding my hand and taking me somewhere.  I remember vomiting all over a strange bathroom and waking up in clothes that weren't mine.

I know what happened that night, but I have no memory of it.  I don't think I want to, honestly.

After that, I was a goner.  I'd discovered a magical elixir that made all of my problems magically disappear.  In addition to taking away my feelings, I also found a way to lubricate social situations and ease my anxiety.  I found a way to make myself "fun".  After an adolescence spent listening my friends complain that I only ever wanted to talk about feelings, I'd discovered the secret to being life of the party!

And that's where it began for me, that's how I found my first real love.