There was a time when stress would have caused me to go out and drink.
One memory of this was in 2014, and I was in the middle of a 90-day drinking break when there was a different health event. I didn’t drink while I was with her, helping and getting things sorted. But I remember taking the train back to NYC and going directly to our little Mexican spot on Ave B, which had a great happy hour special. My husband and I would frequent this place, and I was a little too comfortable coming undone there.
I was alone, sitting on the bar stool closest to the window, when I messaged my husband, "Well, 62 days was good enough." And I promptly started drinking my margarita, the first of many, I am sure. In fact, my drinking took off after that 62-day break, and it didn’t slow down until Sept 9th, 2015, the last day I made the decision to drink. Each day since, I have continued to abstain from drinking for any reason, any celebration, or any stressor.
So I was taken aback when one of the first things I heard someone say on my voicemail was, “Are you drinking again?” She said it with the humor we share so well together and with the personal knowledge of exactly what I am going through. It was a serious, not serious question, but it still caught me off guard because my brain went right to Should I be drinking?
Our story seems to change every couple of days or so, with new tests, doctors, and opinions. I have stopped updating our loved ones because there is no consistency.
I don’t know if I would call where I currently am anything other than the vast unknown. My whole world is on hold right now, and the concept of taking it day by day is equally infuriating and calming. I have a life back in California that is completely on pause—my job, my relationships, my afternoon walks with Pete. And yet, there is no other choice for me. This is where I am supposed to be right now. There are moments I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I get this time, moments that feel unfairly cruel, and admittedly, moments I have to resist an all-out teenage temper tantrum.
I don’t know what the future holds for my mother or for me. Yesterday, we held off on renewing one of her yearly memberships because we didn’t know. Nothing specific was said, just a soft "we’ll see" whispered from my mother’s mouth.
Given all the things the woman who raised me has been through, I should have been orphaned decades ago. I used to compare her to a cat, nine lives and all, and now I just refer to her as the unluckiest-luckiest SOB I know. She hates it, but also chuckles with her shit-eating grin. Historically, the seemingly worst always finds my mother, but each time, she overcomes it, pretty much unscathed—every damn time. I have no idea how often I have thought, This, this is it, only for her to turn it all around. She is a survivor at the most basic of definitions. I can only hope I share this quality with her.
Still, I feel the trembling of the train tracks beneath me, and I am bracing for impact, its future moment still unknown.
When Joe was here for a week, we walked along one of those quintessential tree-covered, sweet small-town sidewalks and talked about how we were both celebratory drinkers. He more than I, but we both leaned hard into drinking for fun as opposed to any other mood.
Could drinking alcohol help this already incessant feeling of numbness? Could it take away the sensation of my insides churning? Could it quiet all the what-ifs? Could it expand my lungs so I could finally take a deep breath? Could it give all of my rage, guilt, and frustration a bear hug?
I think if there were ever a time and place for me to drink alcohol again, it would look a lot more like a Mediterranean summer soiree rather than a health crisis of a loved one in the dreary Northeast.
So the answer to all of the above questions, is a hard fucking no. No, I am not drinking again, and no, I don’t think it would help in any way, shape, or form.
Next question.
Gratitude for all of you here, those of you on the other end of the phone, for the messages of hope and wisdom, the daily check-ins, and mainly for the understanding.
M
Oh man, I wish I could be more helpful to you as a stranger reading your thoughtfully written words. You have helped so many and continue to do so. For what it is worth, sending you lots of good energy your way. XOAdelle
Been there.
You will never regret not drinking. Soak up the memories knowing you will look back on this with thankfulness for being present through it all: the sweet moments and the grievous. 💓