I’ve been slow to publicly announce the whole not-drinking thing, but I’m getting around to it. In a way, sobriety is kind of like a pregnancy. You don’t just run out and announce it to the world. First, you gotta make sure it sticks. Nothing worse than a “JK” update to your alumnae newsletter, no?
And let’s back it up: how did you even come to be knocked up in the first place? Were you trying to get pregnant, or was it a real “oopsie” moment? Are we congratulating you on this life achievement or sending our condolences?
Will your pregnancy be a real shock to your friends and loved ones, or have you always talked about your penchant for screaming babies and a lack of sleep? If the former, are they likely to be supportive of your new path or do you assume they’re currently creating a betting pool on what day you up and change your mind about the whole thing (the over/under is whether this phase lasts longer than the time you went vegan)?
Let’s pretend this is a wanted fetus, and we’re now past the first trimester and everything’s looking good: now you need to figure out how to tell people. You can’t just update your Facebook status. You need to actually pick up a phone and call the people closest to you*. And text the people next closest to you. If My Mother were to learn of this new life development via a blog that I haven’t updated in over seven years, she may be a little hurt**. And then there are all the questions they’re going to ask — how do you answer the questions?!
*HAHAHA no. I don’t do phones.
**Apologies to Amanda who did, in fact, find out via this blog because I forgot she was a subscriber before I had a chance to text that group. Whoops. Also, I kind of assume you told everyone, so I didn’t 😬
So here we are. I started the sobriety announcement world tour last week, and I think I’ve pretty much covered everyone I need to. I’ve yet to blast it on social media, but given that this is a lifestyle change and not a baby, I think I’ll refrain. Plus, depending on my mood, I either feel like it’s a private matter or I liken it to someone formally announcing they’ve given up gluten. Either way, I think I’ll keep it off Instagram.
So far, no one’s reaction has been, “FINALLY. Guess we can go ahead and cancel the intervention we had planned for next Wednesday; thank you for saving us the money we had all pooled together for your first 28 days at Promises Malibu.” Score one for me and my ability to pretend I’m FINE, JUST FINE THANK YOU. Nay, most everyone has been pretty cool and supportive with it. I think I’ve only had one or two folks who don’t seem all that pleased.
For the most part, the reaction when I tell someone that I quit drinking has typically been some form of the following: “Why?”
I find this to be a semi-interesting response. On the one hand, it signals to me that it’s not 110% obvious that the answer is “HELLO–raging drinking problem, DUH.” That’s always nice to know. On the other hand, it makes me wonder what kind of response folks are looking for. Are they genuinely at a loss for explanation and will nod understandingly if I reply, “just trying to cut calories!” Or are they 99% sure the answer is “raging problem,” but they’re looking to me to confirm that before they start telling me about the now foiled intervention? Kind of like making sure a pregnancy is a wanted one before you start offering recommendations for your favorite Planned Parenthood location?
And then there’s always the third option: they ask because they want to compare their experiences to mine. If my response to “why?” is “I’m sick of waking up in dumpsters with no clue where my pants are,” they can rest easy that as long as they can’t relate to that, they needn’t worry about themselves. Real bummer for them when my response is, “it wasn’t taking me where I wanted to go anymore.” Yeah, try and measure your personal risk level against THAT cryptic scale! (Spoiler alert: if you have to wonder…)
Sadly enough, I actually suck at answering “why?” It’s not that I don’t have a million reasons; it’s probably because I have a million reasons. And picking just a few and eloquently and succinctly stating them when confronted and looking for a one sentence answer is way too much to ask. I spent so many weeks mentally rehearsing my spiel as I laid in bed, trying to fall asleep with only melatonin to help me, you’d think I’d have it down pat. But instead, depending on who asks, the answer seems to morph.
The truth is, I’ve always looked at Drinking versus Not Drinking as two sides of a scale. When I started out drinking (17 and hitting the bars in New Orleans, baby — no time wasted!), it was as if I had all the reasons in the world to love that life and pile them all on the Drinking side of the scale. It was how I made friends! It was how I experienced the city! It was how I overcame my crippling shyness! But as time went on, reasons started to pile up on the side of Not Drinking. And some of the reasons in favor of Drinking disappeared. Eventually, the scale became kinda tied. And then, one day, it tipped in the favor of Not Drinking. And that’s when I stopped.
HAHAHAHAHAHAH Psych!
Nah, the scales tipped in the favor of Not Drinking probably a fucking decade ago. But rather than take my cue, I decided to do my best justice impression, donned a blind fold, and kept on at it. I was like an Oscar winner delivering an acceptance speech that went on 20 minutes too long. The orchestra played over me until they eventually ran out of music. We cut to commercial break, came back, and I was still thanking my high school drama teacher. They tried to fashion a giant shepherd’s crook out of a boom mic and failed. That shit just needed to play itself out until I was finally done.
Try as I may to ignore every obvious reason to stop the insanity, that Not Drinking side of the scale just kept getting heavier and heavier and heavier as time went on. Eventually, there was just no more denying it. I was a functioning drinker until I wasn’t. I just had to stop. There was no last hurrah. There was no grand plan. I was done.
That all occurred the weekend of February 14th, 2021: I ripped the blindfold off. Okay, so I wasn’t trying to get sober, but now that I am, I’m glowing; we’re going to keep it! And I said, “Finally, I’d like to thank the Academy. Good night.” Exeunt flourish.
Or, yeah, it wasn’t taking me where I wanted to go anymore. That about sums it up, yes?
Ruby Roark 