11 hours ago
The Midults: I'm an alcoholic worried about going on holiday with boozy friends
Dear A&E,
I am in my early 30s and have just given up drinking. It's been a bumpy road, and it all finally came to a dangerous head and I had to admit that I'm an alcoholic. I haven't had a drink for two months now and I am slowly piecing my life back together and going to AA meetings. A group of my old friends have invited me on holiday. It's a mixed bag of people who still drink huge amounts and those who have calmed down. I have said yes, but I am really scared. How will I cope?
– Petrified
Dear Petrified,
Of course you are petrified – you are like a fawn in the forest: all wobbly on your feet, trying to negotiate your brave, new existence without a crutch or a prop. So right off the bat, dear Petrified, we think you could slow everything right down and say a hard no to this holiday. Long story short? Why would you imperil your sobriety?
Why do we feel this so strongly? Let us count the ways: first, you may still be feeling as though you have failed. Certainly, hitting that rock bottom – whatever it looked like – will not have felt good. Perhaps you are sitting there, wondering, 'Why can't I be like everyone else: out for a couple of glasses of Whispering Angel and then tucked up safely at home, all sensible and not broken by a glass or bottle too many?' Perhaps every waking moment feels like you are being stabbed with a million shards of shame, and you are desperate for a miracle, to be free from all the feelings that have circled back viciously now that you have stopped numbing them. And then… A holiday invitation lands. What could be more 'normal' than a vacation with friends? That's what we all did in our early 30s, right? Book a group holiday, lie by a pool, pretend to read books, gossip and smoke cigarettes and get stuck into the rosé. Nothing to see here.
Or is there? In every fun and sun gang, there will be those who think airport alcohol doesn't count (like airport money and airport calories) and start with a cheeky pint at 9am Luton time. Even the most sensible of drinkers are suddenly struck with a case of the 'Why nots?' at 11am on a holiday. No judgement, but at this point in your recovery, you don't need to put your rosé-resistance to the test. You are being tested enough.
Even though it's highly likely that your friends will want to support you, they can only be mindful up to a point. Holidays are precious; they have such resonance. A bad holiday can really break a person so they will be leaning hard into their good time. Your friends have not signed up for temperance, they have signed up for sunburn and carelessness. You might find yourself overwhelmed by that fizzing holiday feeling; full of heat and temptation. Apart from feeling raw, you may also be experiencing a sense of alienation from your life. You are already, a few months in, understanding that you are not going to be able to just slot back in exactly as you were. Lay those feelings out under the Tuscan sun and you may feel the burn even more acutely. So, perhaps sit this one out. Invest in yourself, for the moment: Keep going to meetings; talk to your fellow sobriety voyagers and avoid the Instagram accounts of those friends while they are away. You will hear about their adventures soon enough.
By the way, we can also reassure you that you are reaching the pinch point when everyone starts to calm down. There is about to be a flood of marriages, babies, promotions, complications, that means your peer group will also begin to avoid unnecessary hangovers. The group zeitgeist will drift in your favour and, suddenly, walking in the park with an oat-milk matcha with you will seem like the sweetest spot. You might feel a little lonely now, but hang on in there because this too shall pass. No need to roll the dice.
And, as we said, you may be feeling as though you have somehow failed at something because alcohol seems to untether you and you can't control it. Emilie certainly felt that when she stopped drinking at 31. She felt that, because she couldn't 'handle' her booze, she was a bit pathetic; that she didn't deserve to be an adult, unlike all her friends who seemed able to have it all.
But, dear Petrified, you absolutely haven't failed. You are winning. Instead of bumping along the at the bottom of a wine glass, feeling permanently bruised and exhausted, you have chosen to take a stand against the anxiety and the alcoholism and the painful past. Congratulations – you have decided to take the power back, to face everything and recover. You are at the beginning of a beautiful journey. Just not the one you expected. And that, dear girl, is life.
