Oh, come on, have a drink.

I've never been much of a drinker. When everyone else was experimenting with alcohol in high school, I was making flash cards and reading the encyclopedia for fun. Before I left for college, my dad suggested that we have a few drinks together, so I could become aware of my tolerance. I refused. I doubt he was surprised. I also used to ground myself. Anyway, I think he was afraid of sending me off to Notre Dame, the university of booze, without proper knowledge and practice. Maybe he was afraid of seeing his daughter two sheets to the wind, dancing with the leprechaun mascot on a televised football game. Beer bongs and boys -- these were probably his worries. I don't think he thought, "Hm, I hope my daughter doesn't go off to college and become anorexic." What's ironic is that when I passed out in my dorm room from the lovely combination of starvation and a fever, my RA called an ambulance, under the assumption that I was intoxicated.

If only.

I didn't drink at all during my college years. I mastered the art of holding cups in my hand, taking fake sips. I fed many houseplants tequila. I watched margaritas swirl down many-a-toilet. Drinking just didn't interest me. It wasn't only a calorie issue; it was the loss of control. The fuzzy-headedness. The lack of anxieties (when I was so used to having anxieties). The too-easy laughter. It was weird to me.

Further into my recovery, at a job I loved, I made some great friends and found myself at bars, bowling alleys, and parties with them, letting go with a beer or two...or three. It was fun. There were lots of firsts -- Jagermeister shots, throwing up in a cab, you know. I guess I'm a bit of a social chameleon. I kind of adapt to the people I'm around. I just gave up on defending my "I don't drink" declaration. Plus, I met Larry during this phase (we worked together), and I knew he liked to drink. So, we drank.

Until we didn't. It's been one year and four months since Larry quit drinking. I admire him for the decision. He knew it was becoming a problem. I admit I was worried about how it would affect us. He went through a funk (and, chameleon that I am, I went through a funk too). I often say that it's only when he stopped drinking that I realized how much he'd needed it. To be honest, I was happy to stop drinking. I didn't really enjoy it. I don't sleep well when I drink, even if it's just a glass of wine. I feel sluggish the next day. It's just not fun for me. But I knew it was fun for him, and I knew it would take a while for our life together to feel normal again.

Now, booze-less, we feel normal again... until we leave the house. It's only when I go out in the world -- to parties, restaurants, wherever -- that I remember how prominent drinking is in social situations. When it's just Larry and me hanging out with each other, I don't really care or notice what other people are doing; but when we're around drinkers, I get that familiar "am I a weirdo?" self-doubt.

Yesterday, we went to my sister's house to celebrate her husband's birthday. She said it would be a "small gathering." My sister's definition of small turns out to be 20 people. This is another situation when I wonder how we are related. Anyway, within 30 minutes of entering the house, a drink was put in my hand (umbrella and all). I took a polite sip, then put it down. That's when I got the, "Oh, come on, Kim, have a drink!" It's like I time-traveled back to college, young adult insecurities and all.

We didn't stay long. I felt out of place. I get very easily overwhelmed by crowds (yes, 20 is a crowd to me), and don't feel like I can talk to any one person in-depth. That's when I become a flower on the wall (and Larry becomes a flower on the couch, watching the news on TV -- it was one of our infamous Los Angeles "Storm Watch" days). Everyone looked to be having fun, a kind of fun that isn't my idea of fun, but fun nonetheless. My dad, under the effects of a couple drinks, karate-chopped a corn on the cob, splitting it in half successfully. If we stayed longer, someone would have broken out into song and a grown man would have been shirtless. These are good times, I assure you, but I wanted to go home, put on my pajamas, watch "Zombieland," and eat an entire pizza. So that's what we did.

What role does drinking play in your life? Do you feel pressure in social situations?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. It's been a perfect Sunday. I cleaned, watched a movie ("Cold Souls" with Paul Giamatti), read a bit, and cuddled with the kitties.

2. I have my psychiatry appointment tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, actually.

3. Sleep. I went to bed at 10pm and woke up at 9am. I guess I was tired.

4. I started organizing more stuff for our taxes, so I feel less on edge about that. I hate dealing with money.

5. My friend-in-France surprised me with the sweetest e-mail today, telling me she read my book while stuck indoors on a rainy day...and she loved it :) That's always good to hear.