Apparently, I’m getting too old for alcohol.
I am twenty-six and my mom is laughing at me (lovingly) because of how much I’m battling getting older. I did not know twenty-six fell under the aphorism of “getting older.” I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I’ve had a slightly complicated relationship with alcohol. I didn’t really drink until I was the legal age of twenty-one. The first time I was drunk was on my twenty-first birthday (in Vegas – go big or go home).
I started exploring drinking right before entering some tumultuous years – a college senior year depression, a move across the country, a new marriage, and then a failed marriage.
As far as self-medicating goes, cabernet sauvignon was my drug of choice. My tolerance level skyrocketed and I heard from three people over those three years that I should “watch it.” I have an addictive personality and I could feel that part of me activating.
Even in the midst of this season of weeknight drinking, I knew I had to find my way back to moderation or I’d be in trouble.
As I got my life together in other ways, this moderation happened naturally. Pulling out of a depression, I didn’t need that same buzz to fall asleep at night or get through a Saturday evening spent alone. I used to only buy a little alcohol at a time because I knew my willpower was on a thin string: if it was in the house I was going to drink it. That’s not a problem for me anymore and I can fill my wine rack for special occasions without temptation.
In the last year I also started exercising more than I had in a long time. That meant more early mornings that weren’t conducive to weeknight drinking. When I started paying attention to my nutrition, I indulged less in alcohol because of the calories. I’d rather have a bigger sandwich than a beer.
I’m thankful my relationship was alcohol has slid back into a safezone (at least for me, I know alcohol is a complicated subject and decisions around it are unique to all us).
It has also slid into a low-low tolerance zone. I always scoffed at people who claimed wine headaches after a glass or two but I woke up with one after a single serving of red. On New Year’s Eve, I stuck to beer (and not many of them) and was hungover most of the next day. I had a sugary pina colada drink with dinner last night (on my Maui vacation) and felt awful. That buzz I used to chase doesn’t feel very fun to me anymore; when I’m happier it turns out I don’t want substances to alter my mind.
I have very mixed feelings about all of this. I belong to a wine club. Austin is a happy hour culture. There is a fun, social, non-dangerous zone for drinking with friends for me that I don’t really want to lose entirely. Like having a glass of wine with a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse. Taking a birthday shot with a friend to celebrate a new year. Trying a fancy cocktail at a restaurant.
Okay, my ego is a little bruised too. I liked being able to “keep up.” (this is a very very bad reason to drink, by the way)
I like feeling healthy and happy and not hungover more. I’m not making any statement to give up alcohol entirely. I wear a ring from my Great Grandfather to remind me, everything in moderation. I need to figure out what that means for as I shed my high-tolerance identity and embrace a new one: where alcohol just isn’t that important to me anymore.
With Love,
Natalie