The Clumsy Interloper

Your Thirties. They sound so official. You have a partner, a mortgage, a child, a job with responsibility, a nice outfit for every occasion, a savings plan… finally, you have your shit together. However, this perceived arrival into adulthood is imbued with the angst of the dog who caught the car and now must decide what to do with this American Dream. You watch the charismatic Joneses down the street who make parenting and marriage look effortless and you quietly speculate what really happens behind closed doors. The quest for more – stuff, peace, security, validation, joy, acceptance – occupies most of your waking thoughts. Stress breeds discontentment which begets the need for a release. Gradually, the pastime of your youth reappears to distract you from the malaise of your rapidly approaching midlife. Without notice, you wake up one morning and your entire life is dictated by alcohol again. But wait, do you have a problem? Of course not. It’s just a social thing. You don’t drink everyday. One or two helps you unwind. You did Dry January last year. You don’t get sloppy drunk. You. Are. In. Control.

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I fell in love with the English Premier League, specifically Liverpool FC, in my late-twenties. By my thirties I was rising at 7am every weekend, donning my red Gerrard kit with a Carlsberg beer sponsor on the front and chasing my morning coffee with 4 pints before noon. My ritual became so entrenched that I would purchase English beers and sequester them in the back of the garage refrigerator to ensure they were ready for Saturday kickoff. If the Reds lost, I would take a midday “sad nap”. If the Reds won, I would drink some more and take a late afternoon “joyful slumber”.

My golf bag’s prized feature was an insulated compartment that could hold a six pack. The buzz of 2 beers reverberated in my hands with every swing and would credit my “aiming juice” for guiding my ball onto the green. The fog of 4 beers cluttered my thoughts while three-putting for the fourth time in as many holes. The inebriation of 6 beers distracted my ego while I sliced my 7^th lost ball into the woods and finished the round with frustrated X’s on my scorecard.

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“Abstainer: a weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure.” – Ambrose Bierce

I was in denial about my growing dependence on alcohol. I would eagerly await Taco Tuesdays because it was a reason to have margaritas before Wednesday. Hiking in Afton was less about communing with nature and more about rewarding myself with a stop at a brewery afterwards. After all, swapping drinking stories with co-workers and friends was an instant bonding activity. Sometimes I wanted to drink less, but it never seemed like the right time to swim against the current and change this fundamental piece of my life. That was until an unassuming Sunday morning last year – July 24^th, 2023 to be exact.  

It was a beautiful, sunny day in central Virginia and we had friends over for a cookout. The water bounce house was set up in the back yard which served as a beacon for neighbors to mingle, bringing with them their sunscreen clad children and pre-made morning cocktails. While the kids splashed and frolicked the day away the adults assembled in the shade to socialize. I parked in the kiddie pool with my then two-year-old while my kindly neighbors refilled my rum and coke 3 or 4 or 5 times. The sun was hot and everyone was having a good time. Early afternoon came and I brought my youngest up for her nap while the party continued downstairs. While I was reading her book, the room started to spin and I felt a wave of shame wash over me. Even if someone was within earshot in that moment I couldn’t even call out for help. I was temporarily paralyzed with my daughter in my lap. After a moment, I mustered all the energy I could to rise to my feet, stumble my daughter to her crib and crawl to my bed to pass out at 1pm.

When I awoke later that afternoon something inside of me was different, like the last pin tumbler dropped and my world unlocked. That was 296 days ago.

Final Chapter: Sober Curious: The Naked Mind (Part IV)