Just remember I will always remember.

 

For some reason lately, I’ve been wanting to write about my decision to abstain from alcohol and drugs, but I’ve struggled to find the words. Too often, my story reads melodramatic even though it largely hasn’t felt that way in real life. So today I’m just going to talk to you, as if you were a friend sitting across from me at the table, and we’ll see how it goes. 

I had my first sip of wine at four years old, and I loved it.

To be clear, it was the world’s tiniest supervised sip that was offered only after I begged my parents. I think they thought I would hate it and never ask again. They were wrong. 

As I grew older, I learned that alcohol use came at a cost. 

I think it’s fair to say that approximately 80% of my family members and close family friends have struggled with addiction at some point in their lives. In fact, my family tree on both sides has been so plagued by addiction that there is a noticeable absence of grandfathers for generations back. When I was a kid, I would hear stories from my mom’s friends as we sat at the salon for mani-pedis or overhear whispered tales from grown-ups talking in the living room late at night. 

However, it wasn’t until my parents separated when I was seven years old that I witnessed first-hand the impact that alcohol could have. No longer was it just other people’s stories; it was my story too. Our lives during that time became chaotic and dysfunctional, and though both of my parents did an incredible job trying to keep us together, some things unraveled anyway. I learned what a sponsor was a few months into their separation and, soon after, new friends joined the living room ranks. This time, they were repeating the twelve steps. Conversations about sobriety quickly became familiar background noise to me. 

In some ways, I’m grateful for the moments where I witnessed alcohol misuse at a young age because, as an adult, I’ve never been shocked by it. I’ve also never glorified it. I get that it’s a tool that people use, and I also know there are much better ones. 

My journey of reckoning with drug use has been slightly different. 

During this same period of my childhood, I had a best friend who was being raised by a single father. Her mother popped into the picture from time to time, but was mostly out of it. Her absence was portrayed to me rather casually, but I knew that it spoke to something larger.  

One day, my friend proudly announced that her mom was going to be visiting and invited me to a sleepover at the hotel where they were staying. My friend was so excited to have her mom back, and I was so excited to take part in the momentary bliss, that I begged my mom to go. She was hesitant, but the combination of incessant pestering from me and reassurance from my friend’s father forced her hand. Eventually, she let me go.  

I don’t remember what we did that evening, but I do remember that her mom was late. I also remember waking up alone in a dingy hotel room the next morning with my friend and no parent in sight. I was thirsty, but the only thing her mom had left us was a half-eaten box of powdered sugar donuts… the worst thing to have when you’re thirsty. I can’t recall exactly what happened next, but I know that there was a phone in the room because I noticed it as I was trying to strategize our escape. I was talking with my mom about this recently in an attempt to fill in the gaps – I know that I called her, but we couldn’t remember if she came to pick me and my friend up or if she sent someone else who lived closer to rescue us. But I know that someone came and ushered us to safety. 

I was so young in that moment, but even then, I think I knew that my friend and I had simply intersected with her mom between one bout of prolonged drug use and the next. We were collateral damage, well-intentioned pawns in a larger scheme. I suddenly had more empathy for my friend and her mom, and for the loneliness they both must’ve felt. I didn’t know exactly how to process that moment, but I knew that I never wanted to experience it again. 

In my teen years, I started having more honest conversations with those I love about their own prior substance use. I learned how many of my very closest people had long and nuanced relationships with drugs. I am thankful for their honesty, even though it was sometimes hard to receive.

I don’t think this is as true now, but there was a period in my life where people thought I made the decisions that I did because I was sheltered or a “goody two-shoes.” The reality is quite the opposite. 

I have chosen a life free from alcohol and drugs because, before the age of ten, I had seen and heard a lot. I didn’t want that for myself, so quietly and over time, I chose a different path. 

That being said, I do occasionally have a sip of someone else’s drink. And I love it enough to reaffirm why I’ve kept that door closed. 

Not using substances has been a gift. In sobriety, I’ve been able to operate with clarity and intention. My choices, for better or for worse, have always been my own. And I enjoy concerts and events fully, not slowed down or otherwise impeded by an influx of alcohol. I’ve also been able to support others in choosing not to use substances or to use them less. None of this could’ve happened without the people in my world letting me see their weaknesses and being honest about both their addictions and their recoveries. 

Two years ago, I was in a wedding for a friend of mine and had the time of my life on the dance floor. I was tasked with getting the party started, and I took it so seriously that I lasted about .5 seconds before changing into sneakers. At one point, one of my very intoxicated fellow partygoers ran up to my friend and said, “Who is that girl in the Air Force Ones?” She told him and then followed up with, “And she’s sober!” Nothing made me happier than being the poster child for sobriety in that moment.

I’ve noticed recently a shift toward being more inclusive of those who don’t drink, which is wonderful. However, I worry that as some move away from chronic alcohol use, they are replacing that dependency with the chronic use of drugs, like cannabis, that are equally, if not more, damaging.  

I’m saying this not only from my personal experience, but also from my professional insight. I am often privy to the stories and studies that don’t diffuse across public channels. Once again, I understand that these are tools that we can use, but the thing with substances is that they trick us into thinking the problem is better, while actually making it worse. 

I remember a friend of mine who I traveled to France with. We were traveling together on a short-term study abroad trip with several others, but there was something that endeared me to him, almost like a little brother. One day, I knocked on his hotel room door. He barely cracked it open, but I could see past him just enough to spot the bottles of Jack Daniel’s sitting on the desk.  He was only nineteen, and he had spent the afternoon drinking alone in a foreign country. So, I took him out for tapas and we spent the evening together instead. 

I think we all want to feel loved, safe, and like we belong. Sometimes, it’s easier to distract from the fact that we don’t feel those things by hiding in our substances. I know this because, even though I don’t drink or use, I am still a child of alcoholics who learned the same techniques of self-medication as everyone else. I may do it in other ways, but the seeds are still there. It’s really scary to feel it all. I’ve been there. I often am there. But I promise that it’s worth it.  

This is not a PSA for living a substance-free life, though I do recommend it. I’d like to believe that there is a way to drink responsibly, though I’ve never witnessed it. And though I may have strong opinions about the damaging ways that substances are normalized in our society, I’ve also spent enough time with people who have been impacted by them to learn that each person’s journey is their own. 

This is, however, a moment to share a piece of my story with you and to offer an alternative way of being. It can be challenging to go against what feels safe, but it can also be freeing. I believe in you, and I’m here if you need support. 

xx

Abbey

Titular Song: Heart by Heart by Joe Jonas (Definitely about a romantic relationship, but I thought the sentiment was sweet in this context). 

Cover Photo: This was taken almost a decade ago (!) in Cuba. Everyone was taking a picture of their drinks, but they wanted me in the picture too, so I held my water bottle. That night is one of my favorite memories for many reasons.