The Fourth of July didn’t particularly mean anything to me in terms of a drinking holiday. It is not, for instance, a holiday entirely centered around drinking like New Years’ Eve (although New Years’ Eve didn’t quite mean what it means in mainstream culture to me either, since I drank too much most nights anyway and I most certainly was not about to ever get on the road on New Years’ Eve).
In any event, the 4th -- and most special occasions, for that matter -- was reason enough to start drinking earlier than normal.
I would probably crack open a tallboy (or several) PBR around noon in the kitchen and begin making food. A flag cake (you know the one, strawberries and blueberries). We’d make red-white-and-blue kabobs (again, strawberries, blueberries, and this time, marshmallows). Guacamole, chips and dip. Macaroni or pasta salad. Something to grill.
The day would carry on, and we would sip on our Bud Light or PBR or whatever all American beer was on the menu. Whatever was on sale. I myself was a big fan of high gravity IPAs (a nice 9% VooDoo Ranger was a particular favorite in my later drinking days) and I would drink those, even if it didn’t particularly scream America.
But the 4th of July celebrations I really remember were from grad school -- in that kitchen in Idaho, standing around the counter, milling around, talking about Ray Carver. A fire outside. Maybe shots of tequila later in the night when we were watching the fireworks. Some wine, perhaps, if someone had brought it. And then meandering home, through that safe city. Stopping at the gas station to buy cigarettes and scratchers.
There wasn’t anything so special to me about the 4th, except again, it was a social occasion and always a day off. And a day off (shit, even sometimes just it being a Saturday) seemed a good enough reason to start sipping around noon-ish.
My point is: holidays -- any special occasion, or anything that feels like a special occasion -- can be a trigger. I have learned that much of sobriety - particularly early sobriety - is preparing and protecting yourself against that “unguarded moment” when the amnesia strikes and you forget all the consequences of drinking in lieu of the dopamine hit a drink will provide instantaneously.
This is not to say actively working towards being prepared is miserable. It is to say I have come to know myself well enough to know that not drinking is a loving choice for myself, and that in making that choice, I need to be prepared for events where I used to drink, and drink heavily at that (although, I tended to drink heavily most days).
Unlike, say, cocaine, alcohol is just readily available at social events and at the grocery store. Like, no one is going to just have cocaine on hand at your neighborhood barbeque. People at our neighborhood pool aren’t just doing lines, but they are often offering us a Mike’s Hard. It feels rude to say no to a drink, whereas it probably feels normal to say no to you know, hard drugs.
A few very practical tips for getting through a special occasion:
Have a drink in your hand
Ohe of the last times I relapsed, I had been talking to a friend about going on a vacation. She said, Just be sure you have a drink in your hand that you poured yourself. Get a soda as soon as you walk in the door.
That’s it, I remember thinking. That’s all you’ve got.
With sober-curious culture booming now, non-alcoholic drinks are popular and more readily available (see my previous blog about my favorite NA beverages). Long gone are the days of just a shitty 6-pack of O'Douls in the sad section of the beer aisle.
I’m not one for the Stanley mug myself, but whatever works. Its very normal, fashionable, even, to carry around a drink all the time. Even our kids have 15 different water bottles.
Both having something in your hands -- like a prop, honestly -- and actually taking a sip of something is shockingly helpful.
Have something to say when someone offers you a drink
I was so terrified that someone would ask me why I wasn’t drinking, and I would have to explain that I wasn’t pregnant, as if that was the only acceptable reason to not be drinking. I was so afraid of how much other people would care.
When I was drinking, and people would turn down a beer, I remember thinking: how do you cope? How do you get through the day?
And we had our jokes: Oh, never trust someone who doesn’t drink. They don’t know how to have fun. How do you get through the day?
I remember being fascinated by my sister-in-law, who just didn’t drink. She just didn’t care for it. Like, how, I wanted to know. What is not to like?
For the most part, the crowds I ran with were heavy drinking crowds. And again, there were always reasons: we were young. We were in grad school. It was a Tuesday. Etc.
There. Were. Always. Reasons.
And I have my lines now. Mostly I just say no thanks, and everyone moves on.
An oft used favorite for people who I used to drink with: I used to think I was really good at drinking, I say, but it turns out I was really bad.
What I have found, honestly, is the only people who are deeply fixated on the fact that I don’t drink are very likely people who have a problem themselves. And in turn, it’s not a big deal. People have even reached out to me after to ask how I did it, to say they respected what I was doing.
I did that for years. For years, I was fascinated by people who didn’t drink. I would text them after a particularly bad bender, looking for some shred of hope. Then I would think, Oh, it wasn’t so bad, and on and on the cycle would continue. Other sober people, though, are like little beacons of light, hope, and proof that you can get through a fucking party without a drink.
And remembering it all, experiencing it all in full, is not as bad as you might think.
Eat something beforehand
Again, one of these solutions that I just thought, are you kidding me. I’m dying here. I’m about to crawl out of my own skin. And you’re suggesting a fucking snack?
But, in large part, ensuring we are rested, hydrated, and full is kind of the biggest parts of being human.
Every time my kids start acting like assholes, I say, “Are you hungry?”
My husband laughs at me and says, I think they’re just being assholes.
My mom always thinks my kids have an ear infection.
But really, a snack usually does help.
In my drinking days, I would love to drink on an empty stomach because the buzz would come on super strong.
It’s almost the same mentality as not going to the store hungry -- we make impulsive choices when we are hungry, whether we like it or not. We are very simply human.
Leave (or don’t go at all)
The final thing I had to learn in sobriety was this: I was either making choices that supported and strengthened my sobriety or choices that weakened it.
In the rooms, they say : You’re either moving towards a drink or away from a drink. You’re never stagnant.
If I felt uncertain about my sober resolve, I just wouldn’t go. Or if I started feeling iffy, I would leave.
Boundaries can shift in sobriety -- there aren’t black and white rules, no you must do this, you can’t do this. If I feel up to it, I can go -- the key here is that I have to be fully honest with myself about how I’m feeling and my intentions.
When I went on that trip I mentioned earlier, I knew I was going to drink. I wasn’t able to be honest with myself until the minute we were in the car and I was at the gas station and my friend was buying a Johny Bootlegger and later offering me a sip that I took in the backseat.
But I fucking knew. Learning to be fully honest with myself has taken some practice, to be sure, and hindsight is always 20/20. But in my heart, I knew that taking a trip (or a special occasion, or having to feel a feeling, or my shoelace breaking) was going to be reason enough to take a drink.
I want to be clear, again, that I pass no judgment and hold no resentment towards people who drink. Even people who drink too much. I myself just can’t drink too much and not hate myself the next day. So I choose not to drink, and now, a few years later, it’s not at the forefront of my mind. I just don’t drink, 365 days a year: evenings, weekends, and yes, even holidays.
A huge part of sobriety is learning to stay in my own lane and control what I can control, which is often alarmingly little. But I can control what I drink today and how and where I move through my day.
In those early days there’s going to be a lot of first’s: The first time at a restaurant without ordering a cocktail. The first time not stopping at the store on the way home from work. The first 4th without a drink.
But at the end of the day, if my sobriety is a priority to me, making choices about where to go and who to interact with and what to do really is that simple: is this a choice that moves me towards a drink, or away from one?
This is packed with some real gems, Kristen. I love how you weave humor in and keep it real with what works.
The whole HALT thing is so true. I belly laughed over “my mom always thinks my kids have an ear infection.” No, ma. They’re just hungry little assholes. 😂
And looking back, I don’t know how or why I thought it was a smart idea to drink multiple heavy IPAs in the blazing sun on the beach. That’s not gonna end well!
Bottom line though, is this line: “I have come to know myself well enough to know that not drinking is a loving choice for myself”. Same here 🫶
Have a great 4th!
I love this. You cover so much and you are on target for all of it.
Your writing draws me in and makes me want to keep reading. Please keep this going!