My Liquid Courage

You actually don't have to do anything you don't want to do, even finishing your drink and no one will notice, I promise.

“Mich, what do you want to drink?”

I don’t think I would have fixated on having such a strained relationship to alcohol if it wasn’t for the introduction I had to the idea of it in childhood. My Dad has always told my sister and me that the addiction gene runs in our family and we need to be careful around substances. It was something that echoed so heavily throughout my house growing up, I started to develop a strong position about it, even before I had aged into the activity. I would get mad when my parents would drink around me, and wondered why the propaganda I was receiving was so negative in private but when it was brought around in front of other adults it was ‘fine’. I was deep-seated with fear and confusion. I was terrified from the stories I had been told of how alcohol can impact a life. 

When I did age into the activity (in the suburban US let’s be honest, it was well before I ‘legally’ aged into it) I didn’t have any tools or previous conversations that made me feel strong enough to handle or feel accountable for my choices. Regardless of what those choices actually were. 

I had limited life experience and so much fear living in my body that my mind created a lie that I perpetuated through college: I was allergic to alcohol. This was the answer I would give to my friends when they would ask why I only wanted water or to make myself my own drink at a party. 

In college I really noticed that in the moments I wasn’t drinking, I also wasn’t intimately bonding with my friends in the way the other kids who were drinking at the party were. There was so much I wasn’t saying, to myself or them, I was so afraid of the world and how it would look at me. I had insane perfectionist tendencies and did not want to disappoint anyone, especially my Dad. I thought I deeply understood that I didn’t need a drink to have fun, and that worked for me to an extent. 

I quickly realized that Greek Life would not be the activity for me in college. To this day when it comes up in conversation I always regard it as the best thing I never did. But I also didn’t know another social structure or program that was so successful at building bonds among college kids. Everyone who went to my high school (it seemed) did Greek Life at The University of Michigan. Even my sister. My perspective was skewed and I knew I could do my own thing but felt dominated by Greek Life’s presence at Michigan. 

I had a group of great friends when I started college that I came to find out didn’t consider me as good of a friend because of my choices to not drink because of my ‘allergy’. I even wrote a column in the school newspaper about it. I felt very strongly, (and in hindsight was being over-dramatic) but I still wasn’t ready to confront it in my daily life. Slowly, very slowly, after I wrote the column and experienced a very loving relationship that came and went, I realized that I was depriving myself more than I was ‘taking precaution’. 

I am now officially saying, typing rather, what I was never able to say in high school, or college: I was never allergic to alcohol. I’ll forever be deeply devoted to my personal values of staying present and knowing my agency is the most important thing I own. But, I do believe: we are all allergic to alcohol. Some, more than others. Alcohol is poison. 

I was talking to a friend recently, telling her about what I was writing this week and she brought up the fact that my claim of being ‘allergic to alcohol’ is similar to a mantra they teach you in Alcoholics Anonymous. I shouted ‘because it’s true!’ and she laughed and agreed. It is crazy the currency the idea of ‘getting drinks’ or ‘having a drink’ has in our social culture. I’ve started telling my friends that from now on you can find me sipping pomegranate juice from a wine glass at the next social function. And I’m so serious. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels this way and l loved learning about the impact the Sober Curious movement is having on my generation. In the intense social drinking settings I enter today (a very rare occurrence), I feel no pressure to participate. 

I do think we all need to slow down when we are in social situations with alcoholic beverages around and let everyone do their thing, or lack thereof. ‘What do you want to drink?’ has always been a tough question for me to answer but I’m realizing that it doesn’t have to be. It’s fun to make drinks for your friends and a great way to start a conversation, next time you ask though try to relax your face muscles when they refuse or you get a response you didn’t initially expect. It is nothing against you, and everything against the substance. 

After coming to terms with the human I know I have become, I’ve told several of my friends that my claims were never really true, or backed by any hard science. Other than my generational trauma, which is very real and very hard science, in my opinion. They told me they knew all along. It was the most reassuring response I could receive. They are the good ones, the true ones. 

As far as my habits today, I know I don’t owe anyone an answer. I’m happy to say that I do feel like I am on the other side of my realization that I don’t need alcohol to feel good about myself or to enjoy a party or a moment. And I know that small amounts in settings I feel safe in won’t be detrimental. It’s my choice. I just prefer life without it. That is okay. Oh how wonderful it feels to know this. 

Songs for enjoyment 

Questions to take with you

• What was the most inappropriate time that you couldn’t stop laughing?

• What is something you loved as a kid, but absolutely hate as an adult?

• What was a common meal that you ate growing up—that apparently no one else eats?
  

Take really good care, 

Michelle