My First Drink Was Wine Mixed with Apple Juice

June 30, 2022
by Kamil via The Write to Liberation

My reflections on being sober for 429 days after what feels like a lifetime of drinking, and a look into what it’s taken to get here.

Trigger Warning: Disordered drinking patterns

Like Magic
Sometimes I marvel at how I’ve managed to stay sober for 429 days. I didn’t realize it then, but drinking has always been my preferred escape route. From a young age, I saw how adults began transforming as their bottles leaned toward heaven. From my eyes, I saw their problems melt away, at least until morning or whenever they sobered up. I saw the last 10 years’ stress shimmy casually off their shoulders. Their bodies were suddenly lighter, freer.

But I also saw how sometimes drinking magnified the tribulations. Rage flowed through their blood, once hidden but made apparent by the magical liquid that excavated it from some deep place. I witnessed how that same bottle would sometimes crush down upon them only just before lifting them above the world’s cares. And periodically, without warning, I saw how it would ravage everything in its path.

It was like my world flowered open when I started sneaking drinks as a teenager. In so many ways, it seemed like the much-desired taste of adulthood I craved, the thing I chased relentlessly after. I didn’t know that my moment would turn into more than half my life of drinking beyond my limit, resting briefly, only to turn around and find myself in worst, sometimes dangerous predicaments.

Take Me There
The year 2019 was a special one. The sun seemed closer to my skin in so many ways, directly over me and me alone. And I lavished in its embrace. I found fulfillment in so many things.

Like…

blasting Ari Lennox’s debut album over our speakers, loud enough for a few houses down to hear. Imagining how we would respond if we ever ran into her on a night out in DC, we would do our best to keep our cool.

Like…

meeting a man and falling so deep into the fullness of his eyes that I thought I would never find my way out. And honestly, in so many ways, I didn’t want to. The idea of staying nestled comfortably under his arms forever wasn’t a bad proposition.

Like…

sitting in the comforting presence of my friends, people who chose to see me and still declared they loved me anyway.

In so many ways, it was beautiful, one of the most awe-striking years of my life. It propelled me into the idea that maybe life was sweeter than I had permitted it to be.

Maybe, just maybe, it would always feel this good.

This alive.

This welcoming.

But, this same year was also celebrated with so much drinking. As soon as the first sip went down, I wanted to saturate myself in that feeling for a lifetime. It didn’t matter how I’d eventually feel because the now was all I had eyes for, and I allowed drinking to lead the way.

A Wicked Love Affair
Drinking transported me into a different world. I often drank so much that I wouldn’t remember the night before. Drinking so much until I threw up in the back of cars. Drinking so much until I stumbled down the steps. Drinking so much until they thought I had alcohol poisoning less than a month into college. Drinking so much until I passed out at parties, present but absent. Drinking so much that I had considered it a norm, oblivious to the fact that I very clearly had a problem.

This year I’ve had the opportunity to share space with some extraordinary humans navigating various losses. This experience continues to push me along my grieving journey. After my accident, I did my best to block out what I was feeling.

Still, there were so many emotions I couldn’t escape from.

The ones that found me wherever I went.

The ones that dragged me back into a depression I couldn’t see myself out of.

The ones that always introduced themselves first.

The feelings that just wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I tried.

Drinking was integral to my life, because it released me from what was actually happening. My feelings and reality didn’t seem to matter anymore when I was so drunk I couldn’t stand straight. Suddenly, my friends and I were all that mattered in our carefully selected Charlotte Russe and Forever 21 outfits. Our drinks sometimes sloshed onto the floor as the DJ played our favorite songs. How could I ever consider giving this moment up?

Milk Jugs by the Dozen
Sometimes, my dad drank like there was no tomorrow. But now I realize maybe he wasn’t ready to face tomorrow. Like many people worldwide, perhaps tomorrow came with the baggage he’d been carrying for far too long. Maybe tomorrow came with the bills he’d been putting off. Maybe tomorrow came with the job he despised clocking into. Maybe tomorrow meant more pretending disguised as living, and he was already running on fumes.

Growing up in the south, it wasn’t unlikely to see people throwing back cup after cup of moonshine so potent you could smell it long before you saw it. My dad enjoyed moonshine. In numerous ways, I know this liquor made not too far from our own home before being poured into a plastic jug was something my dad treasured. I would soon cart the same moonshine back to DC, pressing it upon my friends, pouring it into their cups, and inviting them to witness the glory for themselves.

My dad was already a firecracker, and his drinking sometimes intensified this. Even as I was unknowingly feeding my own addiction, I consistently griped at him for doing the same. Oh, how easy it is to sling stones at the next soul.

…It’s What You Answer To
It’s been hard to call myself an alcoholic because I wondered how this reflected upon me. What other stories were created based on this identification? I know that my resistance to the label was guided by the picture I had painted of people dealing with disordered drinking before I realized how insidious it could be.

Choosing to not drink for the past year has been one of the best but most complex decisions I’ve ever made. My feelings sometimes seem too much to hold without any liquor to smooth the rough edges. However, now I have nothing to hide behind. Not only this, but I see myself for the first time in a long time. Such a long time. I’ve been able to remove the blinders and see who I am beyond the character I’ve crafted for myself in this particular story.

Drinking turned me into a whole different person. Not having it has forced me to see how often I tried to be what I wasn’t. What I am not. That confidence I quickly drank must now be built from the ground up. An inside job. I have to be with myself, and honestly, that’s always something I’ve struggled with. I’ve always been in my head. I’ve always asked questions. I’ve always wanted a deeper understanding.

Light Gon Find It’s Way Through
Drinking made me love and hate myself. These two polarizing sides of my being mirrored back into the world. Now, I see both sides a bit clearer, though still blurry at times. I see my flaws. I see my shortcomings. I see my mistakes. I see the hurt I just won’t let go of. But, I also see how the beauty shines vibrantly through the cracks. I see the people who have valued and held me through every season. I see the joy and peace that once seemed so unattainable.

Being sober has given me my life back. It’s gifted me the capacity to feel. It’s given me another chance to show up and, most importantly, to show up in my power as a woman who is as brilliant as she is complicated. I get to show up as me. Learning to say, “Here I am,” and figuring out how to exist without the very thing that was a much relied upon crutch. Figuring out not just how to get by but how to get free.

Author’s Note: Asking for help can be hard when you’re recognizing harmful habits. If you’re having an issue with your drinking, please know you’re not alone and reach out for help. You’re deserving of it.