Sunday, March 31, 2013

Getting So So Close, Part 3

Still interested? Continue forth from  Part 2

I think a lot about what made me the drinker I was.

I think in the beginning it started with my extreme lack of self-confidence. I didn't even like the guy that handed me the can of beer. I didn't even like the taste of beer! But he was older and giving me approval.

After high school - drinking evolved into something that I could always tuck into to get away from dealing with any problems or anxieties I was facing. And one cannot forget at many points I will still defend: drinking was fun. There was the glittering afternoon after having a long brunch with bloody mary's wandering Brooklyn with two friends then picking up a bottle of wine and soaking up the Spring sun in the park. There was my karaoke birthday party. The time after the poetry reading that I felt so old and wise at 22 drinking champagne with my professors. The time I drank with someone else's parents for the first time - a real grown-up! The time get the idea. It wasn't always bad. But I never figured out when to stop.

I also was never alone. All my friends drank (or at least seemed to drink as much as me). I drank a lot at college parties and everyone knows college kids drink! I drank a lot at poetry readings and everyone knows writers drink! I got really into wine and the wine business and everyone knows that wine is a sophisticated way to drink! Then I was a beer buyer so I had to taste the beers. And then there were wines from the family cellar you simply couldn't pass up - sometimes 6 bottles in a night to share with 3 people. The '64 blah blah and the '82 blah blah and the rare whatever it was you simply couldn't miss. I took drunken tasting notes - see! it wasn't alcohol abuse! i took notes! And so on and so forth.

See? It wasn't my fault. And a lot of the time in my circle - capacity, hangovers, and what awesome wine you consumed are badges of honor. I was drinking just like everyone around me.

A poor excuse I know. And I wasn't paying attention to the havoc it was causing in my life.

I regret what I missed out on all those days I stayed in bed eating McDonald's and gummy bears and trying not to puke. I regret the effort I could have put into poetry or my design projects if I had been able to sit up straight. I regret the embarrassment I caused myself so many nights where I cried too much, made too big a scene, you know- typical drunk stuff.

But what I regret the most is how much torture I put my healthy awesome body through.

And that was the gradual wake-up call I tried to ignore all those mornings of headaches and throwing up. I was making myself really sick.

Part 4 (the finale!) tomorrow.....

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