I was laying on cement unable to move, just barely conscious enough to hear a man’s deep voice above me. He sounded like God. “You’re going to get robbed here, it isn’t safe here,” he said. And then nothing. I could just barely muster up a grunt. Soon, familiar voices appeared. It was my husband and our friend. They grabbed me, and with the Voice of God’s help, got me to standing and slowly into a zombie walk home toward my apartment.
The next morning my husband explained to me that a man experiencing homelessness found me in a dark parking lot. I had quickly wandered off, confused, while he was paying for the cab that had already brought us home. The man left me there for a few minutes after getting my name, pushing his cart around the neighborhood (Civic Center, San Francisco) while calling out to see if anyone knew me, so he could lead them back to me. I didn’t deserve his kindness that night.
I was in my 20s when that occurred. By that point I had been black out drunk hundreds of times, twice leading to hospitalization.
My first hospitalization was on a rainy night in Boston. I was only 19, but I had access to the gay clubs as a risk reduction outreach worker. I would hand out condoms and lube while trying to make safer sex look like the cool approach. Unfortunately I took making safer sex look “so cool,” that I would get wasted while doing this important work. Certain club promoters would give me unlimited drink tickets. One night after a few long island iced teas, I began to black out and a friend got me into his car. It looked like I was about to throw-up when he pulled over, opened my door, and I fell out onto the side of the highway into the mud. I was completely unresponsive, so he called an ambulance.
I woke up, confused, in the hospital with an IV in my arm. I’ll never forget the rude doctor who yelled across the semi-private room asking, “Did anyone harm you or take advantage?”. I had to pee but they wouldn’t let me get up, so they brought me a bed pan to pee in. Later, they gave me a pair of sweatpants to wear for the walk home. My white pants from the night before had been ruined. Walking home wearing dress shoes with sweatpants, a hospital wristband, messed up hair, and barely able to see because my contacts had fallen out, I knew I needed to change. But I didn’t.
The next year, I was studying abroad in a small town outside of Amsterdam when I began to smoke strong joints and binge drink at the same time. This brought me once again into a wild spiral to the point where I was chanting “ambulance, ambulance, USA, USA.” I ripped the seat off the toilet I was hovering over, on my way down to full collapse. The directors of the college drove me to the local medical center where again I was given an IV, and again I woke up confused and ashamed. I used to tell this story, like I would recount most of my drunken hot mess stories, like it was absolutely hilarious. But was it?
Dancing on tables, shots and more shots, falling over, passing out, and many, many hours of memory-free slurred-speech socializing continued into my late 20s, and then into my late 30s….
And now, here I am, one month away from turning 40.
I have few if any regrets in life. Perhaps all of this has taught me some valuable lessons. Still, I can’t help but think about the many potential opportunities lost, the many times when I could have tragically hurt myself or someone else, and the many times when I said or behaved in extraordinarily inappropriate ways.
Once, my first week on the job, I got blackout drunk at an event for Equality Federation, and knocked on my boss’s door at 1am. I was totally incoherent, trying to tell her that I lost my sunglasses. Throughout my career, the number of times I would show up to my various jobs with pounding headaches, nauseous, just barely pulling it together are countless.
I ask myself how this all started.
I don’t know exactly why, other than perhaps some social anxiety, I’ve always gone from 0-100 when socially drinking. (Ironically the hangovers always spiked my anxiety through the roof!) I mean… I love fun. I love to party. But why didn’t I ever stop before going too far? I have family members – aunts, uncles, cousins – who struggle with binge drinking and alcoholism on both sides. Is there something genetic going on too?
After experiencing years of extreme bullying and torment, when I arrived to college early at the age of 17, I got super drunk on the very first night, which allowed me to relax enough to cry it all out. I cried all night long, just shedding the pain from high school. Perhaps this was the start of it all?
I could say a lot about gay culture and the myriad reasons alcohol is at the center of it, and why queer people seem to disproportionally abuse alcohol. But you know. You’ve seen us. We refer to bottomless mimosa brunch as our church.
Perhaps it started in middle school when I stole my parent’s alcohol and got drunk in front of my older brother’s friends?
It’s time for a new day.
I reduced my binge drinking significantly during the pandemic lockdowns because I was at home away from the temptations and stimulations. I was focused on yoga and just easing my mind through the fear. Every now and then I’d have a xanax and a few glasses of wine on a zoom party with friends, but that was the extent of it. Then, as things opened up, the “partying” picked up again for a while.
It’s been easy for me to enjoy a glass of wine at dinner and call it a night. But the bars, the parties – I would escalate, usually cheerleading others to join in the fun.
This behavior of mine stood in stark contrast to the rest of my life. Since childhood, I’ve prided myself as an evangelically healthful person nutritionally, physically, and spiritually – always spreading the self improvement gospel – news and tips – to others.
For the past few years, I’ve been focussing on my health even more, despite the weekend binges. You should see how many supplements I take – turmeric, broccoli, NMN…My diet is better than ever. I’m obsessed with The Blue Zones – areas where people live over 100 through healthy lifestyles. I’ve recommitted to my spiritual practices in Buddhism, meditation, and community. I’ve also begun to volunteer directly with people experiencing homelessness.
There’s been a lot of positive growth in my life. I did mushroom and ketamine treatments, which helped crack open important realizations and rewire my brain to be less riddled with ruminating thoughts and anxiety, and boy can you do a deep dive on the emerging science on that front!
Finally, something shifted. I’ve taken breaks from drinking before, but it feels very different this time. There’s a deep knowing feeling inside of me now that the days of the “marknado” tearing through cities and ending in despair are over. My soul is ready to shine.
Making it through a mostly dry January, I don’t have any interest in getting drunk. I am practicing “alcohol minimalism” meaning no more than a two drinks on any night out, and so far I’ve stuck to it. I’ve developed Al sorts of tricks to stop myself from drinking more. Just switching to a fizzy water with a splash of cranberry helps a lot.
Like most people who’ve been down this road, I know there’s a big risk of falling off the wagon. I know my journey, which included carefully using other substances to help me get here, isn’t for everyone, and I know that for some entire elimination is the only way.
I feel so much better already. Waking up clear headed feels amazing. The ripple effects of not binge drinking include everyday life stuff like being able to get to the gym but also the ability to make plans for an even more healthful and compassionate future for myself and others, and so much more. Every day I feel more confidence about bringing my full self to every aspect of life and my ability to achieve new goals.
So many people in my life party with me and get wasted themselves, but they didn’t know the extent to which this has been a problem for me. They and so many coworkers and acquaintances have been so kind and loving around this issue, and many have even shared their own stories about going sober or going minimalist / moderation based. We all need to be there for each other. The world needs a lot more love and care.
Along this journey I’ve found some helpful resources. There are too many podcasts and youtube videos and websites to list but I’ll give you a few below. If you’re struggling with your relationship to alcohol, please look around for the support that makes sense to you. In the meantime, I’ll be here, sharing my journey toward health, wellness, beauty and spirituality as usual. If I can do it, you can do!
PS. My personal health and budget biohacker tips for a healthy life full of vitality post is coming soon! Subscribe to my email and follow BotoxedBuddhist on Instagram 🥰
Buddhism & Alcohol (HuffPost)
