Will I publish or not?

I sit here on my deck enjoying the last days of summer. To be honest it feels and smells like fall already but I like to use facts when I can to make my mental health comfy and cozy. So I am saying it’s technically summer still. All of you pumpkin latte lovers can go fly a kite 🤭 I love me some summer. It is my favorite season. I love to be outside in the sunshine whenever I can. I love my mornings that consist of coffee, sunshine, music, inspiring Instagram posts - outside. That is also the main reason we are progressively searching for somewhere where the sun and warmth bathe my being upon waking. It’s not just something that I enjoy when it’s here and then am ok with when it barely shows up for the rest of the year. It is a necessity.

At this moment, irony is staring back at me because infront of me sits a book titled Finding Awareness. And sitting upon that book is a glass of rosé. It is not lost on me.

I want to be vulnerable and honest. But am still scared in doing so because people who are a part of my life will read what I write and perhaps take it personally. And perhaps worry about me unnecessarily.

So if I do publish this blog post please everyone who cares about me DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. And for the love of all that is Holy try not to take anything personally. Because this is MY journey. MY story. All of your love that you have shown me throughout my life is why I am as awesome as I am!

Soooo…… there are a trillion things to write about. But today I want to share with you all my hand in hand journey with alcohol thus far. It’s one of the foremost love/hate relationships in my life. And I’m sure that I am not the only person with this affliction. And affliction is the appropriate word here. I just googled it and it said ‘something that causes pain or suffering’. And it does that.

The love part………. Is true. But let’s start from the beginning of this BFF friendship.

I’m sure my story will not be unique in its beginnings/middle/…….. no end yet. I was born to my wonderful, beautiful and amazing parents when they were yet babes themselves. Can you imagine raising a child when it’s prime party season in your life? My Mom has never been an “over drinker”. She enjoys a glass of wine and then that is enough for her. My Dad was the social drinker in our little group of 3. Doing 19 year old things. As did I. As did almost everyone I did know and do know.

I have memories of me falling asleep in the coat pile at parties. Some of my favorite memories! Because I saw everyone laughing and connecting and enjoying life. Dancing til all hours. Being human. It wasn’t just my Mom and Dad and their friends. I have so many amazing and wonderful memories from being at my Grandma and Grandpa Tardif’s home. They had 10 children. And they both came from large families as well so when we celebrated stuff like Christmas, Easter, anniversaries, bdays, or just a Friday night there was a shit tonne of people packed in a moderately sized home CELEBRATING! And I come from a very musically gifted family. None of which passed onto me but I do play a mean pair of spoons. So can you imagine? My life growing up was largely one large ongoing party!

I was not allowed to drink until I became of age. But not “allowed” was so hard to live by. I seriously did not start drinking on a regular basis until I moved to Calgary when I was 18. Legal age there 🤭. But it sucked when I came home on the weekends because then Joyce and I would have to “doctor” our driver’s licenses 😆. I only ever remember getting drunk once before I was 18. Debbie. First day of grade 12. Ugh. Worst hangover of my life. But what a fun memory that we both laugh at til this day. We aptly named it The Vodka Bash.

We are that family. We have song books. We have guitar players. Drummers. Singers. Belt whippers. (Get your head out of the gutter, I whip a good belt for one particular song.). My wee, straight from Ireland Auntie Margaret is an amazeballs singer as is her daughter Allison. We have so much fun when we are together.

My BFF ETOH is never not there though. ETOH is nurse lingo for alcohol 🤪. There has never been a celebration in my life where alcohol was not involved. I was thinking maybe not at mine and my cousins first communions etc…. But I’m sure there was a potluck or dinner celebration and my BFF, ETOH was there.

So let’s move to college. What a party! Every weekend probably. Learned that low self esteem and alcohol DO NOT a lovely combo make. I would go out. Drink and dance and search for “the one”. End up sleeping with “the one” only to find out the next morning I was only his “one night”. My BFF also got me into bad situations that I couldn’t physically get out of. Ya. That is a WHOLE NUTHER blog for another time.

Alcohol relaxes us. It makes the monkey mind slooooooooow down. It tells us to not give a shit about what people say about us. Or think about us. And isn’t that something great? I’m being serious. It makes us feel more connected because we have conversations that are raw and real. Because we want to feel connected to people. It lowers inhibitions. Yes. There are consequences to that sometimes. I know first hand. But for a short time we are untethered. It doesn’t matter what happens because we just don’t care what happens.

Wow. Addictive? Yes. How could it not be? If it’s what you’ve known all of your life. If you equate fun and happiness and not feeling stressed with it.

So yes, it had/has its glory moments forsure. I’m going to be honest. Some of my happiest and fondest memories involve drinking.

Now I present the hate side of the love/hate relationship. As we all know hangovers are just “annoying” when you’re younger. There isn’t even a glimmer of a thought to give it up in the teen/young adult years. No thoughts (at least in my journey) that it was a problem of any sorts. It just was. Everyone drank. Everyone woke up hungover and did it again next weekend. I do remember that moving up here to Grande Prairie was a boost in the partying/drinking/hangover department because previously we couldn’t afford to drink very much ☺️. We moved up here. Met a group of people. Some of them were very influential in the city. We got invited to the gala’s even though we didn’t pay most of the time. It was another family for me. We partied a lot. We camped almost every weekend. Partying. Doing topless cartwheels on the golf course….. photocopying asses etc. It was fun. Like I said. Some of the best memories. Ever.

But I recall one afternoon in my garage. All of our friends were over for some celebration of something. I wept as I told them how mentally crappy I felt. The night previous we had drank for some reason. (We didn’t and still don’t need an occasion to drink). This was the first time I had experienced the anxiety and depressive feelings the next day. It felt horrible. It wasn’t just a headache or nausea. I could fix that with Advil. This was coming from my being. But still….. I forged on. Can’t leave your BFF just cuz it has a fight with you once?

Our group of friends had kids that were all around the same age and they were watching. Whatever we told ourselves to make it ok for us on the inside is what we told ourselves. Right? This is normal. This is what everyone does to enjoy life after working all week - This is how it gets passed down.

I’m not preaching. At the moment I’m drinking rosé and trying to emanate my best Hemingway persona. I’m telling you my love/hate relationship with it. Because I believe others feel similar. And I believe that hiding in the shame of it doesn’t do any of us any good. We are here, on this planet. None of us really knowing the perfect way to live out our lives. Or rather, we think we know how it should all play out but life has other plans for us.

I’ve been so drunk that I have been crawling on my hands and knees, crying and swearing I would never do it again. (Haven’t had one of those in a long while thank God). The shame and guilt the next day is so hard. And in the last few years the morning after has been more about the depressive/anxious feelings than being physically sick. So much shame. So much guilt. So hard on myself. No forgiveness. No grace. Just “what the fuck are you doing?” Why do you keep doing it?

It will come to an end one day. It’s getting old. I can feel it. In getting to know myself deeper and wanting to love myself not just 88% of the time but ALL of the time, I have started to surrender and accept this is my path. And I give myself more of that grace and I talk to myself a little more like I would to my best friends. My true best friends. Like Debbie, Angelika, Christine, Angie, Adrienne and Andrea.

One day alcohol, we will be “friends off”. I will say thank you for all of the wonderful memories but our friendship is doing more harm than good. And I will let you go.

I hope this has touched you in some way. It’s not up to me how you respond. But I hope that in being open I have some how made someone feel seen. Because we all have our struggles. And I just hope for a future on this earth where it’s normal for people to share and be open and where kindness is THE first response to anything.