When I was a kid, I wanted to be either Madonna, David Bowie or Pippi Longstocking. To me, these were people who smashed social constructs, owned their eccentricities, and knew how to take up space. Me, I was shy, and was only comfortable when I remembered to be small, because that was how I had successfully gotten through life thus far. Another childhood hero of mine was Punky Brewster. If you weren’t around in the 80’s, Punky was a 9-year-old orphan who spoke loudly, wore colorful clothing, and wasn’t afraid of anything. She took up space and I envied how, when a new kid showed up at her school, she would walk straight up to them and introduce herself or when a boy kissed her without her consent, she socked him in the eye. I was nothing like Punky, and I wanted more than anything to be exactly like her.
On a bus to summer camp, I was sitting in a row alone, and there was a person behind me also sitting in a row alone. A counselor walked by and said, “You’re both sitting alone! You should become friends!” In this circumstance I thought Punky Brewster would not be shy. She would turn in her seat and introduce herself. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Shrinking myself had worked for me my entire life and I wasn’t about to risk my comfort for the mere possibility of a friend, although having a friend would have been nice.
Photo by Rebecca Drieling
When I started drinking, I felt for the first time like my shrunken little soul could fill up my entire being. For a while, it was wonderful: I could make people laugh! I was larger than life! Sure, sometimes I blacked out. Yes, some mornings I had to apologize for things I’d done or said that I couldn’t even remember. But, this was a small price to pay for the way it felt to finally take up space in the world. I started wearing combat boots, and with each heavy step felt my roots growing into the earth.
Time passed. I hadn’t done any work on whatever it was that had made me stay quiet and small as a child. When I wasn’t drinking, I was still shy. Rather than nurture myself, I wanted to shine other people’s light back on them, and I got pretty good at doing that. I could hold space for anyone, and I could make them feel valued and loved. But I still couldn’t give myself a break. When my husband got mad at me, I shrank, and then I drank. I drank to get through the bad days, the mean people, the negative self-talk. With every drink I took, I made myself incrementally small.
It took me a long time to realize that this was a pattern: I thought the alcohol was protecting me, but really it was where I hid myself in moments of conflict. Instead of confrontation, I’d ran to the bottle, and inside of the bottle was where I hid.
I realized this pattern of protecting myself with alcohol and hiding behind moments of conflict. I hid inside the bottle in times of confrontation.When I finally stopped drinking, my voice was shaky and thin from lack of use. My self-esteem was shot. But I laced up my combat boots, started meditating, and began the practice of looking at myself in the mirror and saying kind things. I started working on being sweet to my body. My roots began to grow back into the earth, only this time they were made up of confidence instead of shame. My voice got louder. Sometimes it still shakes, but I am finally speaking up. When I meditate, I imagine myself a giant tree with strong roots and many limbs. A common meditation tip: Anchor yourself deep into the earth and then pull up energy and send it to the tips of your being. This is the vision of how I want to take up space in society — organically, with intention, grace, and groundedness.
In sobriety I’ve noticed that many of us still tend to shy away from our power. This shouldn’t come as a shock: Our society celebrates alcohol, alcohol makes people loud, and the stigma persists that being sober is shameful.
As comedian Tony Baker observes on Comics Unleashed with Byron Allen, “Whenever you tell people you don’t drink, they want an explanation. They always want to know, ‘Was it a problem; was (sic) beating your kids; did you ruin marriages; did you kill somebody with a vehicle; like, what happened? We can’t believe you don’t drink poison!’”
Some people even get offended when you tell them you don’t drink. This happened to me when I was newly pregnant with my first child. I was staying at a friend’s parents’ cabin during my first trimester, and at the time hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy yet. My friend’s Dad was not happy when I turned down a beer as if my declining implied I was somehow superior. After much hectoring from him, I finally told him the news of my yet-undisclosed pregnancy just to get him off my back.
Fortunately, more people are embracing the alcohol-free lifestyle these days. Sobriety can be a rebellious choice, as Ruby Warrington points out in her book Sober Curious. While the patriarchy wants us to stay numb and quiet, passing on alcohol can be a means of re-sensitizing ourselves to the world. So, why do we continue to silence ourselves?
I believe it’s because many of us aren’t used to taking up space. We were told early on that we were too big for our britches: too sensitive, too weird, too much. To be told we’re “too” anything remains a shameful. But just as we’ve learned to flex our sober muscles, so too can we learn to exercise self-possession and lay claim to the space we need to thrive.
CLEAN Cause recently posted an article to their blog called “Five Ways to Politely (and not so politely) Decline a Drink.” My favorite tactic is the simplest: “I am sober.” Word! I believe everyone should recover in whatever way feels natural and comfortable to them, but I also want to encourage folks to shout their sobriety from the rooftops, if they’re so inclined!
As an organization built on embracing the idea of taking pride in sobriety, founder Wes Hurt, a recovering drug and alcohol addict, wants to give back. According to Forbes, “Hurt says he wanted to build something sustainable — founded in purpose to make a difference — through healthy drinks and great design.” CLEAN Cause gives 50% of their net profit* to support individuals in recovery from alcohol and drug addiction.
Most importantly, I think every individual deserves to feel supported. It’s likely we drank because we weren’t, but the fact that we made the choice to turn away from alcohol to pursue a better life for ourselves is incredibly powerful. Once we truly understand this, we can begin to take up the space we deserve with enough room to twirl and dance, sing at the tops of our lungs, and let our booze-free flags fly.
*or 5% of net revenue, whichever is greater.
]]>A few moments later, I relayed the situation to my mother and lamented his response. “Honey, you know he forgets,” she said. “He still thinks you are going to meet a nice man and settle down somewhere,” (I am partnered and queer). Unless I offer an explanation, my dad does forget, and it does not feel good. Granted, that was his fifth margarita.
These days, people choose not to drink for a variety of reasons. According to the Washington Post, nearly 1 in 3 adult Americans don’t imbibe at all. This might be hard to believe considering how much drinking culture saturates advertising and other media.
Let’s face it: declining a drink can be awkward and sometimes overwhelming. Parties, work events, book clubs, vacations, funerals, and even just plain old dinner-time frequently calls for a drink in hand. Whether you’re abstaining, moderating, or just taking the night off, through real life investigative research I’ve devised the following 5 strategies for declining a drink:
Lace up those running shoes and take The Health Kick for a trial run. If you’ve been a heavy drinker in the past, this one may feel like a Dad Joke to say out loud. But The Health Kick is rarely a lie: whether you’re focused on physical or mental well-being, your intentions are honest, and the response you get is generally mild, polite, or even congratulatory.
Are you totally uncomfortable disclosing anything about your current relationship to drinking? Does it feel too personal to even hint at the details? Then you might feel more at ease reaching for The White Lie-- though I caution to use this tactic sparingly.
Yes, this answer seems benign. Who would argue with medicine?
But be sure to know your audience. Can you expect follow-up questions regarding your health? Would you feel comfortable answering them should they arise?
Pro-Tip: Toenail fungus sometimes requires medication that is toxic when combined with alcohol. Toenail fungus is also not something people want to talk about at length.
You may have larger socio-political reasons for forgoing a drink. An international movement of nondrinkers is gaining momentum and collectively critiquing the toxic culture perpetuated by Big Alcohol.
More power to you, you little instigator! As Kristina Sperkova writes in The Temper, “Alcohol advertisers are promising us everything that is impossible to gain from a substance– feeling of belonging, self-esteem, freedom, and happiness.”
This response could open the door to a bigger conversation about the underreported health effects of drinking alcohol. Did you know that alcohol consumption is directly linked to cancer? According to the CDC, if you don’t drink now, don’t start.
On a positive note, how about instead of making the situation about what you are not doing at the moment, ask for what you really want.
A true classic: It’s a taste of childhood, and the bartender definitely has the ingredients.
Most humans need 2-3 litres of water per day!
Aren’t you the cutest thing? No, really. Ice water? A Shirley Temple? That is just too cute. Ordering a drink can be a joy practice. Take your time looking at the menu and decide what would be delicious or refreshing. Make sure to order enthusiastically.
How about instead of engineering an airtight response, you just try keeping it plain and simple?
There isn’t much room for critique here. It’s direct, succinct, and polite. You’re neither being critical nor making excuses. Keeping it simple allows for a simple response.
No matter the scenario, the truth is - there will never be a perfect way to disclose your decision to not drink, or to not have a drink. The responses will generally be unspectacular – respectful acknowledgements. With a bit of prep work, you may not even have to tell Bob from Accounting or other total strangers about your toenail fungus medication.
Larger social functions may call for their own kind of pre-event strategizing. Happy hour with your colleagues? Carry cash. Walk into the bar. Order your nonalcoholic beverage of choice. Smile at your server and “Tip as if you were drinking booze.” (industry standard is $1 - $2 per drink). Hold your glass with confidence. The contents are for you to know. Make your rounds, and don’t be afraid to leave early.
Outdoor social event?
Bring your own beverages! When the weather is cold, I like to carry tea bags for quick and easy comfort and variety. My go-to drinks during the warmer months are the wide range of bubbly waters on the market, or a healthy dose of caffeine like a yerba mate. Clean Cause is an awesome choice, and a conversation starter-- they give 50% of all of their profits to help fund sober living scholarships for folks in addiction recovery. No matter the season, I like to carry my own fancy insulated cup and have a variety of options to share in a small shoulder bag or cooler. As long as you have a cup in your hand, few questions will come your way.
Choosing non-alcoholic beverages at the store, restaurants, and bars allows those businesses to expand and offer more variety. Overall, your reason for not drinking belongs to you. From servers to family members, those that offer you a drink are doing so as a part of the unwritten (and often uncontested) social expectation to take a drink. No matter your reason or your response, the act of not drinking alcohol is radical, revolutionary, and, above all, a personal choice. More power to you!
Got any tried-and-true strategies of your own for passing on a drink? Share your tips with us on Instagram or our website, and get the latest on CLEAN Cause!
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