Musings on drinking, not drinking and my undying devotion to Julie Friend…even when I delight in her misery

A small part of me, one that may be a smidgen petty, loves it when my friends are miserable.

I’ll pause for effect because my high school English teachers taught me you should always start an essay with an attention-grabbing statement. Then I’ll clarify so you don’t think I’m a monster.

This small, kind-of petty part only delights in one specific flavor of misery: I love it when my pregnant friends are miserable about the hit their social life takes during nine months of forced sobriety.

See, very specific.

Take, for instance, my friend Julie. Julie knows I love her with an intense ferocity that borders on fangirling, so she’s the example I’ll use. Least likely to get mad about someone delighting in your misery: Julie Friend.

Julie is now the proud mother of a healthy, happy, thriving two-month-old baby girl named Elsie (adorable). If Elsie’s health or happiness depended on it (like it did while she was baking), Julie would never drink a single drop of alcohol again.

Fortunately, Julie doesn’t have to make that sacrifice. She’s a normal recreational drinker and her drinking doesn’t interfere with her life. It’s actually the opposite: in most regards, her drinking contributes to her quality of life.

Julie enjoys imbibing. She loves to have a good time and, for her, drinking frequently contributes to having a good time.

In other words, she’s a fairly normal adult. No history of addiction, no struggles with depression, no real struggles period. Julie is living a lucky lifetime and freely acknowledges her good fortune.

During her pregnancy, Julie was frequently bored out of her mind socially. All of those social activities that used to be fun when she recreationally drank with other recreational drinkers? No fun sober. Who wants to sit at a bar and watch other people drink?

That, my friends, is why I delighted in her misery. Because it validated a very simple truth that’s near and dear to my heart: a lot of things that are fun when you do drink aren’t fun when you don’t.

Unlike Julie, I don’t drink recreationally. I had a serious substance abuse problem in my early twenties and drank until I blacked out on a daily basis. It wasn’t pretty.

Therefore, I haven’t imbibed in the last decade. I gave up alcohol (very bitterly, I might add) because the consequences outweighed the benefits. I couldn’t hold a job, I sometimes endangered other people by driving after I drank, and I generally made poor decisions. My brain and liver were suffering and, truthfully, if I didn’t make a change, I probably wouldn’t be here today.

Getting sober was the right thing for me to do. It gave me the life I have today and I’m grateful for that gift.

Over time, however, I’ve developed a complex relationship with the concept of “being in recovery.” It’s not a subject that I’m ready to explore in my published morning musings because it’s not a “learn in public” topic yet. I’m keen on oversharing, but I don’t believe in sharing everything.

However, there is a topic I am more than willing to delve into here and that’s my intense, fiery, passionate, undying belief in living authentically.

I’m not into pretending. I hate it when people feel pressured to hide parts of themselves in order to make other people more comfortable. I think the world is a lot better when you just tell the truth about your insides and encourage others to do the same.

One of the truths about my insides is that, despite being in recovery and abstaining from alcohol, I firmly believe that substances can contribute to a person’s quality of life. I don’t think that alcohol is evil, nor do I believe that sobriety is morally superior to imbibing.

Likewise, I firmly believe that abstaining from substances can contribute to a person’s quality of life. Not just for people who have a problem. I know heaps of people who could imbibe recreationally but choose not to because living substance-free makes their life better. It’s a personal choice.

What I believe in most of all is respecting others’ choices. Personally, if I knew for sure that I could drink safely, I’d start doing it again. But, since I don’t know that, I’m continuing to abstain.

And, while I’m abstaining, things that are fun for recreational drinkers in the company of other recreational drinkers aren’t particularly fun for me.

Just like things that were fun for Julie when she was a recreational drinker amongst other recreational drinkers weren’t fun while she was abstaining.

It seems like there should be no reason to dive into this topic, but you’d be surprised. I recently went through an intensely odd chapter of life where I felt pressured to deny this simple reality.

So, I wrote out my thoughts and feelings on the topic because my name is Keely and that’s what I do.

Sending love to all the folks who have a good time while drinking.

Sending equal love to all the folks who have a good time while not drinking.

Sending the most love to folks who rely on substances to get through the day but know that the substances are harming them. If it’s time for you to give them up, I hope this is a nudge that helps. It’s hard at first. Super hard. But it’s so, so worth it.

P.S. For anyone who’s curious about Julie’s sanity, she and her husband Ryan are currently on a cross-country road trip with their two-month-old.