Message In A Bottle

Once again, the "new year, new me" time of year approaches. At this point, that phrase makes most people roll their eyes so hard they need a chiropractic adjustment and a shiatsu massage from throwing their neck out of balance. Even those among us who aren't know for being introspective tend to fall into the rhythm of joining a gym, cutting out sugar, buying a journal, or taking a break from a habit they know isn't good for them. I've been a bartender for eleven years. I've been drinking for about that long too. Do I drink because I tend bar? No. Do I tend bar because I drink? No to that too. Why do I drink? Why did I decide to stop for awhile? Pull up a chair and grab a cold one.

I can't tell you if I even wanted to drink the first time I drank. I vaguely remember it: at a temporary girlfriend's house with her mom and the conversation shifted to the dusty bottles with exotic looking flavors in them. Her mom's mentality was that she'd rather us drink there then drink outside the house, so she let us sample whatever we wanted that night. I was 20. Everything tasted terrible.

I had been drunk a few times before my 21st birthday. None of those events were especially magical, and the hangovers should have made a lasting impression moreso than they did. Danger - Will Robinson! The amnesia from drinking doesn't always come during a blackout, sometimes it comes after your hangover finally dissolves and you're already thinking, "I'd do that again!" The high outweighs the low, and there's nothing quite like drunk. In my twenties, I drank due to feeling restless, bored, scared, hurt, or like I had something to prove. I was home-schooled, but adamantly didn't want to seem that way. When did I start drinking because I actually wanted to, and not because it was just something to do? Years later.

I consoled myself with the idea that I was an artist, so of course I should drink! I had been an English Literature major in college. I played guitar and wrote music and songs. Didn't all the best art come from some degree of inherent or adopted vices? Bukowski, Hemingway, Watts, etc, they resonated deeply with me; what had spoke to them first? Maybe it was at the bottom of a glass. After all, someone has to empty all those bottles so people can put their hopes and dreams into them and cast them out to sea. I told myself this ironically, like I was doing my part. Trying to drown things that knew how to swim so well that it was futile. But I kept trying.

I drank alone once after a breakup and cried myself to sleep. I realized then it wasn't a good idea to drink when I was sad. I drank once when I was angry after a breakup and ended up breaking a mirror and pulling a urinal off the wall in a public restroom. Walking home that night (don't drink and drive, ducklings!!" I laid down in the street, wondering if I'd move if a car came by, not sure what I would decide in that moment I realized then drinking when you're angry wasn't a good idea either. I realize now that drinking amplifies your most subconscious emotion; you're just giving a microphone to your trauma, no matter how fleeting or embedded it is. I drink when I'm happy. I stay home and meditate when I'm feeling out of sorts. I take at least one extended break from drinking a year, sometimes 2. Drinking promises a release, but ends up being a prison sometimes.

I drink carefully now. I'm in my thirties. I have nothing to prove to anyone. I keep alcohol at home and don't touch it unless I'm entertaining people. I don't drink alone. When I do drink, it's medicinal. I don't drink just to unwind or relax, I drink until I feel like a different version of myself. Not too often, not to be evasive or cowardly, but sometimes just to smile so big I feel like my face is going to break because it feels really good when it hits your soul and you're surrounded by good friends making memories.

This January I told myself I needed to dry out for 8 weeks. Being the happy and generous drunk I am, I intend to make sure all my friends around me are having as much fun as I am. What's that mean? Shots. On me. Who wants one? This gets expensive. A weekend out and about can cost hundreds of dollars. I work hard for my money and I have it to spend on trivial and frivolous things on occasion, so I do. My bank account needed a break. So did my body. I don't sleep well, I gain weight, I bloat, hangovers last 48 hours now instead of 4 like they did when I was 22. Gone are the days when a cheeseburger and a Gatorade would have me feeling right as rain by noon. It was time to start acting like an adult.

I'm 2 weeks into the 8 weeks I set for myself. I have some non alcoholic wine and non alcoholic beer at the house in case I feel the need to stand on ceremony, but I feel so much better. My eyes are brighter. My skin is clearer. I'm saving a lot of money. I also feel myself procrastinating less until I "feel better" because I feel pretty great all the time! I've also switched to a strictly seafood/vegetarian diet and have started taking some new supplements to help cleanse my body. My organs probably feel like the troublemaker on the block just got kicked out, and they're celebrating. With club soda and powdered greens. And I'm writing again!

I will drink again. St. Patrick's Day is around the corner and there are traditions that must be upheld. And yet, when I do return to it, it's not a mosh pit of reckless abandon like it was; it's a respectful ballet where we both know that control will be handled in turns, and that the only power we hold is the power given to us by the other.

Alcohol can be weaponized, like anything. I struggle with the depravity I enable by being a bartender, but I'm also just as quick to offer you a hug, an ice water, or a pep talk. Alcohol probably hasn't made the world a better place, but it has made me a better person. It's held a mirror up to me that only it can hold, and I'm grateful for the parts of me I wouldn't have been able to see without double vision. Like any weapon or tool, if you handle it with respect, there is a purpose for it to serve.