I didn’t wake up with a hangover on New Year’s Day. I didn’t have a hangover once during the holiday season. In fact, I haven’t suffered a physical hangover since 2000. That’s just one of the many gifts sobriety has given me, and I didn’t have to give up anything to receive the gift.
You might expect that as a non-drinker I would spend New Year’s Eve quietly at home, avoiding parties and merriment and be tucked into bed, sound asleep, long before the ball dropped in Times Square. And there’s nothing wrong with that, in fact it sounds kind of nice. But I partied, late into the night, welcoming in the new year toasting and singing and kissing and whooping it up. I just did it without alcohol. Yes, I slept a little later the next morning, but jumped happily out of bed in time to get to an 8 a.m. A.A. meeting, where I toasted the new year with decaf coffee and 30 other people who were very happy to be sober.
When I was drinking I never dreamed that I could enjoy parties and celebrations without alcohol. The many times I tried to stop drinking (for January, for Lent, for a month, for a week) I pretty much turned off my social life altogether. I just didn’t go out. That was the only way I knew to avoid drinking. So the idea of stopping for good meant I would never again be able to enjoy the social rituals and milestone events that require the lubricant of alcohol. Giving up drinking meant giving up fun. The only other solution I could see would be cutting back. I would only drink when I went out and I would only go out if I could drink. It worked for a while…until it didn’t. Sooner or later I would cave to temptation. “One glass of wine” after work would leave me hungover and useless the next day. A birthday dinner with the girls would end in shots at the bar. Someone would twist my arm after a detoxifying yoga class and five hours later it was last call. “We’re re-toxifying” we slurred with glee.
I was a party girl.
In March of 2000 I stopped drinking…for Lent. I didn’t expect it to last beyond that. I’d done it almost every year; I thought it somehow proved that I didn’t have a problem…because I could stop. It was always hard but that year it was particularly challenging because I decided to put away the big bag of weed that was going to get me through the next six weeks. I’m not sure why, but something had changed. I was no longer able to find that “sweet spot” that you get to after a few drinks. The buzz that feels so good…until you cross that line into drunkenness, blackouts and hangovers. The remorse and the consequences were starting to outweigh the enjoyment. And then, a few weeks into Lent, I went to my first A.A. meeting. I had a close friend who had stopped drinking a few months before. She was going to meetings and offered to take me to one. She was the first “normal” person I knew who actually attended meetings…and even seemed to enjoy them. As I walked into the church I heard animated conversation and exuberant laughter coming from the stairwell and I thought I was in the wrong place. It sounded more like a cocktail party than what I imagined an A.A. meeting to be. These people actually sounded happy! Hmmmm.
I soon started to meet sober people who seemed to really enjoy life. And I started to run into people at meetings that I knew from the “real world”. People who I’d seen at parties and now realized weren’t drinking at those parties. I’d assumed everyone drank at social events. I started tentatively going out again, careful to heed suggestions I’d heard: arrive late, leave early, take your own car, stay hydrated, eat beforehand, meet a sober friend there, bookend the event with a call to your sponsor or your recovery coach.
In my first year or so, arriving late and leaving early was no problem. The cocktail hour was an easy miss and the late evening shenanigans were not an option. But as I got more comfortable in my sobriety I realized two things:
Not everyone at a party gets wasted. This came as a bit of a surprise. I thought everyone drank the way I did. And…
Watching the people who did get drunk did not tempt me to drink. In fact, quite the opposite. I would watch with morbid fascination as they stumbled and slurred and made fools of themselves. Sometimes I would even drive them home.
These days I’m still sometimes one of the last ones at the party. Happily, a lot of the parties I attend are with sober people. But not all of them.
Recently one of my girlfriends walked into my morning A.A. meeting. She identified herself and said she had 22 days. I saw her catch sight of me, and I recognized that initial look of fear and shame when you first see someone you know at a meeting. But she came up to me afterwards with a sheepish smile. “How long have you been coming?” she asked. “22 years” I replied. She looked surprised and puzzled. “But we were doing shots at Shannon’s party last month.” I smiled and said softly “You were doing shots. I was drinking water”. Her look of confusion slowly turned into one of amazement. “But you were having so much fun!” And then I saw another look cross her face…
The look of hope.
Maybe the party wasn’t over.
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