To Drink or Not to Drink: Have You Ever Asked Yourself the Question?

I come from a long line of drinkers. I remember my maternal grandmother used to make my grandfather drink fake beer. It came in a cornflower blue can and I think it was called Select. His family had a lot of drunks and she was on constant watch that he not succumb to that fate. Drinking too much and becoming an alcoholic was always something I worried about. As a reaction, I’ve planted myself firmly in the land of hyper-vigilance — always watching myself, afraid, armed with the fear that someday I too will cross over the line and drink too much. 

Both of my sisters don’t drink. One because she realized ten years ago that she is an alcoholic. She has found great solace and strength in AA. My other sister doesn’t drink either. Twenty years ago she just decided it was more trouble to drink than to not drink so she just cut it out of her life.

My dad drank. He was a sad, sloppy drunk, never mean or angry. I’ll never forget when he stopped drinking. I was about twelve. He called my sisters and me into the living room and sat us down. He was usually more playful than serious, so when he formally invited us in and sat across from us ready to lecture, we knew something was up. “I’m not drinking anymore,” he said. He talked a bit about how he drank too much and he was making a commitment to us and to himself to stop.

It was funny because we never talked about the fact that he did drink. It just was part of life. I didn’t feel traumatized or burdened by Dad’s drinking. I just knew he did it. Sometimes I felt sad for him when he was sad-drunk, but I never felt scared or unsafe. When my dad made his declaration that he was quitting drinking, he seemed happy, proud to be telling us about this big life change. Dad died about fifteen years later and he never did drink again after that day.

Drinking is part of my family culture, part of American culture. Watch any show on television and there’s an enticing glass of wine or the perfect finger of bourbon at the ready for that hard conversation. In my house growing up, there was always wine for every special occasion and usually at every evening dinner. My paternal grandfather talked about bourbon all the time and he and my grandmother had wonderful alcohol soaked cocktail parties on the regular. In high school, my sisters and I would steal bottles of wine to share with our friends from the cases my mom kept in the basement.

We learn early in our lives that relaxing, having fun, and socializing all involve drinking. What that message subtly teaches us is that we won’t be able to relax, have fun or socialize without drinking. Eventually, we become unconsciously dependent on the presence of alcohol. We’re taught that not drinking is a burden, a hindrance that will curb our ability to relax or enjoy our lives. But in reality, at least for me, the very act of drinking creates more stress and anxiety than less.

Because of my family history, I’ve always been a hyper-controlled drinker. On principle, I reject offers of drinks when I’m with family (so I’m clear I’m not in that camp), and I have always monitored my intake with precision at social events. Because drinking is so scary for me, it’s not really that fun. During the pandemic, my partner Nancy and I have watched our drinking — at the beginning, we drank a glass of wine with dinner three or four nights a week, sometimes five or six. We felt the indulgence deserved because we were living in such stressful times. Then we’d talk about it, realize that we were just becoming habituated to the act, but not really enjoying it that much so we’d stop having wine with dinner for the whole next month. We’ve gone back and forth several times over the last year.

At the end of December, my friend Kate who, like me, worries about the physical and mental health impacts of alcohol on her life, said to me, “I’m not going to drink for 2021,” and I immediately said, “Me neither.” She didn’t ask me to do it with her. She didn’t want or need a buddy. But as soon as I heard it I felt like this was the invitation I’d been waiting for my whole life. 

And what I’ve felt is utter relief. I don’t have to drink. I don’t have to drink to socialize or to fit in. I don’t have to worry that I’ll become an out of control drinker anymore. I don’t have to waste precious energy monitoring myself (and others) every time I go to a party. Like an unsightly wart, I just cut drinking out. 

I am aware that many people truly have addictions, that they try to quit drinking or drugs or sugar or coffee, and they struggle. I don’t want to minimize that hard work or that effort. But I do want to share with all of those people who are more like me, simply burdened by drinking, how liberating this feels. 

It’s not “I don’t get to drink,” it’s “I don’t have to drink.” When I watch Netflix, whether it is a detective show or a romance, drinking is always there. It’s the sidekick to all fun things or hard things or exciting things. And, more people die of alcoholism any other addiction. It’s true, drinking in moderation can be fun, but not drinking at all is pretty great too.