One Drink’s Too Many and a Hundred’s Not Enough

“I’ll meet you for a drink.” “Let’s go out for a beer.” “Come over for a glass of wine.”

The idea of one drink is so alluring and so enticing. It’s not only what people say, it’s apparently what they do. It’s romantic and inviting and hopeful...and ridiculously normal.

Because normal people can have one drink.

I can’t. I never could. I don’t know why I even said it. Did I ever really intend to have just one? Hey, it’s after that one that the magic happens. Everything is softer and shinier. Everyone is prettier and funnier. The music sounds better and the voices sound friendlier. It never takes much arm twisting before you find yourself uttering those famous last words...”okay, one more”. And suddenly it’s last call. And you can’t find your phone or the friend you came in with. But that’s okay because your new friends know a place that’s still open, and it sounds like a really good idea because you probably shouldn’t drive just yet. And you find yourself in someone’s kitchen doing shots and lines and wondering how you’re going to get out of whatever responsibilities loom the next day.

And then you hear the birds.

I have what I’ve heard called “the disease of more”. I’ve always wanted more. More love, more attention, more praise, more stuff, more food, more fun...

...and more drinks.

I remember being at my dad’s company Christmas party when I was 6 or 7 years old. My sisters and I were in our matching party dresses and there were carols and candy and glittering lights. Under a huge Christmas tree there were dozens of beautifully wrapped presents with red and green and gold and silver bows. I was drawn to one in particular and I clearly remember thinking “I don’t know what’s in that box, but whatever it is, I’ve wanted it my whole life”.

Something else was happening at that party. The adults were drinking. The colorful sparkling cocktails, the merriment and laughter, the freedom they gave us to have as many sodas and sweets as we wanted and to twirl and sing and stay up late...

I wanted that too. I chased that feeling for years, until I finally found the help I needed. Whether it’s a sponsor or a recovery coach, support and accountability are critical, and it gets easier and easier not to have that first drink.

In Billy Wilder’s classic film “The Lost Weekend”, Ray Milland’s Oscar-winning portrayal of an alcoholic is mesmerizing, haunting and shockingly real. Down on his luck and at the end of his rope, he pounds on the bar and begs the bartender for a drink. Just one. “One drink’s too many and a hundred’s not enough” is the bartender’s pitying reply.

Those beautiful Christmas presents? They were props. They were empty. They were still there when the party ended. Yet as we were leaving I gazed longingly at that one exquisite box. I still wanted whatever was in it.

It was empty.

And the party was over.