My name is Becky Boop and I am a social binge drinker. I have been afflicted with this evil tendency since the age of 16, the first time I sampled red wine in mass quantities from the liquor cabinet of a high school pal's parents. That eve I made prank phone calls and fell down the (carpeted) stairs, and the following school day was painful on many levels. This should have been a standard coming of age lesson against the perils of chugging alcohol, especially when you have responsibilities to face the next morning.
Yet this very incident, plus or minus a few details like young age, repeated itself recently, and in fact, I am good for an episode of this nature every few months. Now I recognize the difference between binge social drinking and full blown alcoholism. Alcoholism is a terrible disease that destroys many lives, and has personally affected members of my own family. I can go weeks at a time without touching a drop. My problem is that once I get going, particularly in a lively (or uncomfortable - try that dichotomy on for size) group gathering, I don't know when to stop. There is a fine line between laughing at all the times I have puked out of cab windows, fallen down or turned in bravura karaoke performances, and backing up to examine if this is really the kind of gal I want to be. There is something decidedly less humorous about these hijinks as one approaches their mid-30s. I have made arguments in the past about the extended adolescence of today's adults, and in theory I look down upon this. So why in this case am I such a willing contributor?
The shame spiral, physical recovery time and inability to keep my busy life on track after a night of rock star partying is not worth the few hours of fun. On paper, in the sober light of day I am aware of this. I also know that drunkenness affects good judgment. The best way to keep myself out of this trap is to stay away from the sauce completely. I don't need a drink to have a good time, or do I? Let's examine the evidence:
1. Last weekend, as I accepted an award from the Illinois Woman's Press Association, and my nerves were frayed beyond belief at having to endure a public round of applause, I wished for nothing more than a shot of tequila so I could bear my own insecurity.
2. Recently, I was so excited at reuniting with my one of my best friends, traveling abroad from London, I felt the need to down a bottle of wine in 30 minutes so I could keep my tongue in check. I tend to dominate conversations when I am agitated, happily or not, and I am aware this is a turnoff.
3. When I am engaged in a household chore which I do not wish to do, like laundry or washing dishes, I tend to carry a glass of wine with me, and take a sip as a "treat" at given intervals.
Were I to examine this evidence from a purely unemotional, pedagogical perspective, it would seem I use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I do not like the implications of where that behavior leads, especially, as I said, coming from a family where alcoholism has been devastating. I don't like what I see when I look in the mirror the next morning. But I can turn this self-loathing into a positive. I can take ownership of myself and my social behavior, the way I have co-opted adversity, self-inflicted or otherwise, in the past.
My plan is simplicity itself. Just stop. Stop drinking. Get some distance between myself and the bottle until I can learn to have a healthier relationship with alcohol.
The first test comes tonight. I am having a housewarming party. I am about to leave for Trader Joe's, where I will stack up on frozen edibles and numerous bottles of wine. Only I won't touch them. I will greet a parade of guests, pour their libations, and try to find something un-awkward to do with my hands (in the past, clutching and sipping from a wine glass was the answer). I realize that for me, the battle to cure my social binge drinking is about something more than curbing an appetite. It's about learning to be more comfortable with myself.
Yet this very incident, plus or minus a few details like young age, repeated itself recently, and in fact, I am good for an episode of this nature every few months. Now I recognize the difference between binge social drinking and full blown alcoholism. Alcoholism is a terrible disease that destroys many lives, and has personally affected members of my own family. I can go weeks at a time without touching a drop. My problem is that once I get going, particularly in a lively (or uncomfortable - try that dichotomy on for size) group gathering, I don't know when to stop. There is a fine line between laughing at all the times I have puked out of cab windows, fallen down or turned in bravura karaoke performances, and backing up to examine if this is really the kind of gal I want to be. There is something decidedly less humorous about these hijinks as one approaches their mid-30s. I have made arguments in the past about the extended adolescence of today's adults, and in theory I look down upon this. So why in this case am I such a willing contributor?
The shame spiral, physical recovery time and inability to keep my busy life on track after a night of rock star partying is not worth the few hours of fun. On paper, in the sober light of day I am aware of this. I also know that drunkenness affects good judgment. The best way to keep myself out of this trap is to stay away from the sauce completely. I don't need a drink to have a good time, or do I? Let's examine the evidence:
1. Last weekend, as I accepted an award from the Illinois Woman's Press Association, and my nerves were frayed beyond belief at having to endure a public round of applause, I wished for nothing more than a shot of tequila so I could bear my own insecurity.
2. Recently, I was so excited at reuniting with my one of my best friends, traveling abroad from London, I felt the need to down a bottle of wine in 30 minutes so I could keep my tongue in check. I tend to dominate conversations when I am agitated, happily or not, and I am aware this is a turnoff.
3. When I am engaged in a household chore which I do not wish to do, like laundry or washing dishes, I tend to carry a glass of wine with me, and take a sip as a "treat" at given intervals.
Were I to examine this evidence from a purely unemotional, pedagogical perspective, it would seem I use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I do not like the implications of where that behavior leads, especially, as I said, coming from a family where alcoholism has been devastating. I don't like what I see when I look in the mirror the next morning. But I can turn this self-loathing into a positive. I can take ownership of myself and my social behavior, the way I have co-opted adversity, self-inflicted or otherwise, in the past.
My plan is simplicity itself. Just stop. Stop drinking. Get some distance between myself and the bottle until I can learn to have a healthier relationship with alcohol.
The first test comes tonight. I am having a housewarming party. I am about to leave for Trader Joe's, where I will stack up on frozen edibles and numerous bottles of wine. Only I won't touch them. I will greet a parade of guests, pour their libations, and try to find something un-awkward to do with my hands (in the past, clutching and sipping from a wine glass was the answer). I realize that for me, the battle to cure my social binge drinking is about something more than curbing an appetite. It's about learning to be more comfortable with myself.
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This is a very self-aware post which shows an abundance of maturity and awareness on your part. I hope your continued journeys will reflect these realizations and you thrive thru your endeavors.
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