Growing up I had the unfortunate privilege of witnessing alcoholism and drug addiction. The effects such things can have on families is devastating, but we were some of the “lucky ones,” in a sense. While I don’t particularly agree with all of their parenting methods, my parents weren’t the horror stories I’ve seen on so many made-for-TV-movies. I have blurry memories of various parties they held; one in particular a friend of theirs was puking up gold dust after way too much Goldschläger. I’ve never desired to try that beverage.
I remember helping pass a joint around the circle as a little kid. I never took a hit. I’m sure they wouldn’t have let me; oddly, enough, when I was older an uncle was upset when I was in the room while they were smoking. I wondered why it was okay when I was a kid, but perhaps with age came wisdom on both our parts and he felt guilty that I might actually want to participate. I can honestly say I’ve never taken drugs that weren’t prescribed to me or simple over-the-counter medications that were truly only taken as needed (except that one time in high school that I though a whole bottle of OTCs would off me, just caused violent vomiting).
Alcohol was something I did enjoy. I have drank alcohol more than twice, but only twice did I drink to the excess (which included puking and blacking out and passing out). The first time I woke up naked and soaked on an air mattress at my sister’s house with the door to the room wide open. I was terrified that something horrible had happened but it turned out that I’d just yelled a lot and puked all over her house so she’d forced me to shower and tossed me onto the mattress, forgetting to shut the door, and I’d apparently pissed myself. The second time I got drunk is actually an entry on this blog. It was 2006 and it turned out horribly; a guy tried to rape me while I was passed out, the next morning I found out that I was one month pregnant and I hated myself for drinking. I miscarried that baby and even though the docs told me the drinking binge wasn’t the likeliest reason for the miscarriage, I feel guilty for it to this day, so I only socially drink if I know for a fact I’m not pregnant, such as when it’s that time of the month.
Even so, I do enjoy socially drinking still. But it’s not something I can often do. I haven’t had a drink since last year; I think it was December and I had a glass of cheap wine. I keep discussing with my friends a girls’ night out, maybe margaritas and karaoke, but that would require a freezer full of breast milk and a babysitter, or my husband being willing to give up one of his nights off to devote to my having a night off from the 24/7 grind of parenting, neither of which I see happening in the near future. I won’t drink at home unless I know that husband is home and sober to care for the children, so having a girls’ night IN is not a viable option either.
I guess I never really was the type to party hardy anyway. In high school I only attended a couple of parties and found it to be utterly boring–loud music, random sex, and all the illegally obtained beer and wine coolers one could drink. My mother would purchase my favorite, Mike’s Hard Lemonade (their website has an “age portal” as if a kid couldn’t do the math, but I suppose that’s another rant for another day), for me when I came home from TLJC and WOSC, but she never got me more than 80oz at a time so I wasn’t even really tipsy.
I don’t know if I’ll ever drink alcohol again; only time will tell, I suppose. But I do know that it won’t be something I do around my children until they are much older. And I do know that I will not be recapturing missed opportunities at youthful indulgences by trying all those drugs I never tried.
Queens of the Stone Age–Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, Marijuana, Ecstasy and Alcohol. C-c-c-c-c-cocaine.