It was my last day of complete sobriety and I was spending it in my hometown; a place of comfort and roots grown and humility. I still work at the first job I ever had, and I was starting the day there. My boss had mentioned the day before that he had been reading and enjoying the things I’ve been writing. I thanked him but also simultaneously apologized about it because in my heart I still want him to think that I’m the sixteen-year-old girl he hired thirteen years ago. I then remember that once upon a time, several Christmases ago, he gave me a cookbook and as I unwrapped it he told me “because sex will only get you so far.” This makes me feel better.
Nowadays he and I spend a lot of my work hours talking about things. We know that we have a lot to accomplish, but also recognize the importance of our quality time together. He’s one of my favorite humans in this world and I care for him deeply. He is inspiring, hilarious, and insanely intelligent. It’s no surprise that in the midst of white balance and audio checks, we divulge in to the topic of alcohol and it’s insidious behavior. It is open and honest and feels good. He took some time off from drinking as well, a much more admirable time off than I, and we’ve both come up with similar results. With similar ideas about the term “alcoholic” and our abilities to justify our own actions. About slippery slopes that turn sloppy. Mid conversation he says, “if Eskimos have 100 words for snow, why do we just have one for alcoholic?” This resonates. (I also check the internet to verify if this is true, most sites say it’s a myth, but the language that disputes it takes too much time to digest and it seems like they at least have a lot, and it’s also just a beautiful thought so I’ll explore it anyway). We’ve all our own perceptions, our own morals, our own sliding scale of right and wrong. Alcohol is an addiction that most of us discount; most of us sweep under the rug. Looking back to the beginning of this exploration, I loosely used the word “problem”. Loosely used the world “alcoholic”. These are words that are scary and feel punishing. They feel undeserved by those just trying to relax their souls from the stresses they carry. But it’s okay. We can make a hundred other words that sound better. We can talk to a hundred other people who have felt the same way. I don’t feel embarrassed to have discussed my virtues and vices because they have been part of my human experience. They have led me to this moment, right here, where I realize we’re all just going through the same things in varying degrees.
If we only allow the answer of yes or no to “are you an alcoholic?” we breed a society of individuals who are able to turn their back on the issue. I will never be my own definition of the term and I assume the same of most others. I am no saint here. I don’t think I have really done anything extraordinary by cleansing my liver for fourteen days. But I do think that there are way too many people who are too afraid to acknowledge that maybe it’s time to slow down and refocus; that it doesn’t have to take a really scary word to make that happen.
My name is Lindsay and I am a hundred other words.
the length of waves 