Tag Archives: alcohol

A Nice Cold One

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The reasonable voice says
Don’t panic.
But the panicky part in me
panics like never before.
So many questions.
So much uncertainty.
I hear the liquor stores are doing great right now.
It makes sense.
When faced with so much uncertainty,
and you have to stay home,
and you’re around your famly
for longer stretches of time than usual
and you don’t know how to do this…
A nice, cold one sounds like a great idea.
I’d like to tell everyone to wake up,
because that’s my job as a yoga teacher.
But I’m unemployed right now, sitting home,
alone because my kids are with their dad.
I look in my fridge. Virtually empty.
Do I risk going to the store?
A nice, cold one would be really great right now…

Expressing Not Imbibing

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Realizing I can simply relax and have fun
without needing to impress anyone,
I observe many faces at a party.
Loud music, drinks sloshing here and there;
am I the only one not drinking?
There is a blank book
and an invitation to write
birthday well-wishes,
Aha! Writing! My drug of choice.
Is my sense of relief
at having something to do
some form of avoidance behavior?
I cover a few pages with drawings
and words, glad to be expressing
rather than imbibing.

Yay Sobriety

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This happened.

My mother, father,
sister and her boyfriend,
my husband and children
were sitting in a nice restaurant
to celebrate my birthday.

Some of you know
I have chosen
to not imbibe the fermented fruit of the vine,
and you also must know
that this puts me in the minority
of the adult population.

So I, my daughter, and son
sipped on our water,
while the five other adults drank,
two of them to excess.

I attended to my children,
enjoyed giving them bites
of delicious food,
sharing my salad and entree with them,
engaging them in conversation.

My husband,
bless his heart,
and to his credit,
did make an effort to engage with me
between sips of beer,
and we exchanged some pleasant words
in the course of the dinner.
He only had two beers and a glass of champagne.
Surely, this is moderation, is it not?

But inside, I felt lonely.
This was supposed to be my birthday celebration,
and the adults were focusing on their booze,
becoming loud, intoxicated…

I found myself looking around
at the others in the restaurant,
wondering about their conversations,
guessing that they were surely
more interesting
than what was unfolding at my table.

My family,
with its history of alcoholism,
couldn’t help itself.
The alcoholism had to follow us into this dinner,
even though the guest of honor
doesn’t drink.

What would you do,
if you felt lonely at your birthday dinner?
Would you have put your foot down?
Would you have said something?
Would you have withdrawn?

I tried to be kind and present,
but I couldn’t help feeling wistful.

Afterwards my sister was belligerent,
verbally aggressive…
because this is what happens when she drinks too much.
She yelled, gestured,
said she didn’t need anything from anyone,
and passed out in my bathroom.
She has done this many times before.
I wish I could help her,
but I know that I can’t.
She needs to help herself first.

And now, more than ever,
I see that my sobriety,
my clarity,
my lucidity,
my health
is one of the greatest birthday gifts
I can offer to myself…
and to the world.

Yay, sobriety.

Together in Our Own Personal Haze

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It’s Christmas,
and we’re all here together again,
so…
what should we do?

I know!
Let’s pour ourselves a glass of wine,
some eggnog,
let’s drink a beer.

Put something in your hand
so that it will have something to do.
You won’t feel awkward
with something in your hand,
something to sip.

There, that’s better now,
take another sip.

Bathe your brain in some poison
So that laughter and smiles
will come more easily,
so that you will be more talkative
with those you seldom see.

It’s okay, we won’t judge,
we’re all doing it.
And heck,
the red wine provides antioxidants
which are good for heart health,
so, we should be drinking it anyway, right?

Hush up liver,
no whining!
it’s Christmas–
time to let loose,
to celebrate,
to be together
in our own personal haze.

Longing for Connection

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At the outset of this blog project nearly one year ago, I found myself wanting to explore the idea of creative recovery, how to pierce through the noise of my emotional system and delve into the creative, inspired self that can be expressed outwardly as writer, artist, crafter, teacher, mother, dancer…endless expressions of this indwelling creative spirit embodied as Lorien.

As I began to move through the Twelve Steps with the idea of my creative recovery in mind, I explored the idea of addiction and experiences surrounding this theme in my life; how I perceived my family’s relationship with alcohol, with anger, with hoarding, to name a few.  I started to see how alcohol use and abuse has been normalized within my family, and how choosing not to drink made me part of a slim minority. I am glad to have found clarity though; I didn’t need their approval or support to make this choice–it just seemed like the most loving thing I could do for my body, mind, and the people around me to choose to be substance free.

Having been completely alcohol free for almost a year and a half, I find myself even more sensitive to the use of alcohol in social settings. I don’t miss it, so I’m not worried about a relapse or anything; I never considered myself an alcoholic although I have displayed some unhealthy behaviors during my adult years.

The fact of my being completely sober threw into sharp relief the behaviors of my family members who were drinking, and I found myself wishing for authentic connection with them in the absence of alcohol use.  But how to meet them where they are?  How to be loving, regardless?

Is it unrealistic of me to hope for my family members to choose sobriety?  Is it futile? I want to know them, to be present to them, to listen, but it’s challenging when they are becoming more loud and aggressive with each sip.

Anybody out there have thoughts on being the only sober one in a group of people who are under the influence?

Thoughts After the Party

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My husband and I attended a party tonight,
A surprise birthday party for a friend turning 40.
There was a feast laid out for us on the kitchen table
and everyone was well on their way to inebriation
by the time we arrived.

I have been intoxicant free for nearly two years now,
and I haven’t looked back, not one time.
Sure there have been moments where I felt curious,
Would I enjoy the taste of wine, of beer, now?
But nothing so serious that it would drive me to taking a sip.

I stopped drinking out of solidarity
with my husband who wanted to take a break,
and continued to stay 100% sober out of solidarity
with myself
when husband decided to go back to moderate drinking
six months later.
Sometimes I wish he were still intoxicant free,
but that’s just me.

I mean, how many people in our western consumerist society
actually want to give up the booze completely?
Not many.

And I don’t need anyone else to make my choice,
it is my own, and that’s really all I need to know.
To feel clear in the morning,
to stand in front of my students with my whole self,
to sit in meditation and smile in my liver
to go further inwards and see that there are no demons hiding,
this clarity is so completely worth it,
no one needs to convince me or join with me.

I don’t need anyone else to make my choice;
it is my own, and that’s really all I need to know.

What to Do Instead of Drinking

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We celebrated my mom’s retirement tonight, just six of us, at dinner in the Waterfront Kitchen, overlooking Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.  I noticed when I sat down that my sister and her boyfriend–who had arrived fifteen minutes before the rest of us– were nursing martinis.  My mom promptly ordered a cocktail.  My dad produced a bottle of distilled water he had brought from home; he always does that. My husband and I just drank the water the restaurant served.

Wine glasses were brought out and wine poured as we began our appetizers.  I noticed my husband was growing agitated, and I asked him what was going on.

“I feel like such a prude,” he said.  “A glass of wine would be nice.”

“Well have one then,” I told him.

“I won’t drink if you won’t.”

“Well, I’m not drinking tonight, but it’s fine with me if you want to, I can drive home.”

He opted out, but continued to seem pretty agitated; I attributed this to his being hungry and was hoping that he would mellow out once he got some food in his belly.  Here we were in a nice restaurant, the kids were at home with a sitter, and we could just relax and enjoy our meal.  Why let a dilemma about drinking detract from this fresh experience?

I watched my sister and mother drink more.  They started getting a little louder, a little more animated.   My dad, who is much more conservative with his consumption of alcoholic beverages, worked slowly on a glass of wine as he took careful bites of his entree. My sister’s boyfriend encouraged my husband to go ahead and have a glass if he wanted one. I was secretly glad that he decided not to.

So much of our drinking is simply out of habit.  A lot of it arises from social pressure–everyone else is drinking, I might as well have one too.  Why–and how–have we normalized the act of ingesting this powerful intoxicant when we know full well that it’s dangerous, and that ultimately it poisons us?  And why don’t more of us question this behavior?

I sat there thinking about all of the things I could do instead of drinking:

1)  Stay clear-headed and really listen to what the people around me are saying.
2) Take in the environment around me.  Observe.  Listen more.
3) Be aware of my thoughts.  Challenge the thought that I would be more comfortable if I would let loose with a drink.  Challenge the thought that catching a buzz is “fun.”
4) Sit up a little taller in my chair.  Take a deep breath.  Take another deep breath.
5) Remember that all of this apparent activity in the realm of the senses is simply a play of shadows cast over a timeless ground.  For one moment, hold the awareness that we all are of source energy, expressing it as individual bundles of energy, all emanating from the same source.
6) Respect everyone’s freedom to live in accordance with their own set of values.  Be loving and kind and appreciate the individual’s expression of his or her uniqueness.  Be the opposite of judgmental. Be tolerant.  Accepting.
7) Revel in the fact that my liver doesn’t need to work overtime to filter toxins out of my body.  Look forward to waking up tomorrow hangover free.  Feel a little smug and elitist about my healthy choice.  Catch myself feeling smug and elitist, and take another deep breath.

Yes, I had a lot going on as I sat there at dinner tonight.  Even as I watched my husband battling it out in his head about this choice to stop drinking (it has been since August), I was so clear about my choice, so in my integrity, that I was able to feel compassion for everyone there, just doing the best they can with their current resources and motivations.

I watched waiters bustling around, I heard people talking and laughing.  I smelled delicious food and enjoyed tasting so many different flavors.  I have discovered that not drinking has sharpened my senses measurably; I enjoy my food even more, and the simple taste of water leaves me content.  Not drinking has simplified my life; it’s a blessing to enjoy what is right there in front of me.  I am grateful I chose to stop.  My body is too.

And I don’t have the guilt I had before, knowing that I was putting strain on various important organs in my body.  What was driving me to drink before?  Did I just want to cut loose?  To have fun?  Did I want to blend in?  What the heck is this kind of reasoning?

Yes, there is much to do instead of drinking alcohol, but even so, I can drink with the best of them. Next time I find myself in a social situation where people around me are drinking, I’m going to pour myself a big ol’ glass of self love, smack my lips, and guzzle it down.

To your health!