Down the Rabbit Hole

Told you I’d be back. Come with me if you want to live.

Anyone?

No one? Well, I was never into those movies anyway.

This post is again inspired by Gretchen Rubin. Her work is still foremost in my mind at the moment. Obligatory promo: go check out her blog. There. Promo over.

Now, today’s entry is a little more…sober…than usual.

One list of the author’s intrigued me: what she calls her Secrets of Adulthood. These aren’t just general truisms, but her own life lessons learned through experience. It’s ok to ask for help; the path to happiness doesn’t always make you feel happy; you can’t change children’s natures by nagging them; and so on. One featured in The Happiness Project struck a chord with me:

What’s fun for other people may not be fun for you, and vice versa.

Which seemed obvious at first. Not everyone is a bookworm, for instance. I’m rarely interested in sports. Then I realized that I have a more meaningful example.

I’m going to tell you a story.

I first started drinking in my teens. It was as much due to peer pressure as anything else. The effects confused me. Wasn’t this something people did for fun?

So why did it make me depressed?

The advice I got wasn’t all that reassuring – that when drinking, it’s important to control your emotions. Enjoy the moment. Think positive. I had two reactions: If drinking lowers your inhibitions, and I had to make an effort to think positive while drinking, did that mean I was already depressed?

And why make the effort anyway? I figured either you liked it, or you didn’t.

And I didn’t like it.

That is to say – I liked the adventure of it all. The clubs, the nightlife, being out most of the night. It was novel. It made me nervous, sure. This was all new territory, and I wasn’t exactly the most social person growing up. But looking back, I’m glad for the experience.

And there were good times, too. When the buzz, the setting and my mood lined up, and I caught myself having fun.

There were just more bad times than good ones.

Now, the science backs me up here. Alcohol is a depressant. It can exacerbate existing depression, or even cause it. I’m leery of saying I was depressed. But I did have low moments. And more often than not, drinking seemed to cause them.

I suppose the sensation could be compared to jumping off a cliff. A brief high of weightlessness, followed by plunging into the void.

Though there were other factors, too.

That bit about controlling your emotions? That’s true to a point. By now I’ve learned to regulate my mood to some extent. Mindfulness in general helps, as well as cutting off darker lines of thought. Telling yourself, I’m not going to go there. I am better at these things now than I used to be. It works – somewhat.

But do you see the problem here? Alcohol reduces your inhibitions. It lowers your control, which makes it that much harder to keep your mind in check.

Another, perhaps more important factor, was the company. During those early years, I was the tagalong. The people I drank with were nice enough, but I barely had anything in common with them. I felt like an outsider. I felt alone.

Which was partly on me. Though it stung, a lesson I’ll always remember was the time someone told me – I paraphrase – I know you feel left out. But why don’t you join in?

It’s a fair point. You can’t rely on others to boost your mood without at least reaching out yourself. That’s something I wasn’t doing. Though in my defense, I didn’t know how. Another skill I’ve gotten better at over time. By now, those people I couldn’t mix with have become casual friends. Not close, but not strangers, either.

And then there’s the factor of time itself. In many ways, my life is in a better place now than it used to be. That’s made a difference. I have had fun drinking in recent years, with family or closer friends. People whose company I value. It hasn’t all been doom and gloom.

But even now, it happens. I drink and I get depressed. I’ve finally come to accept it.

I’m just not a happy drunk.

I used to think alcohol helped you let go of your problems, to have fun and embrace the moment. And I suppose it does in the right context, with the right people, to the right person. I can be that person – sometimes.

But for myself, I’ve developed a different model.

I think there’s a framework in my head. Like a weave, or scaffolding. This is what orders my thoughts, keeps things in perspective, lets me see the beauty in life. When I drink it becomes less rigid. The joints bend, the knots loosen. I start to feel free.

But nudge it the wrong way and it falls to pieces.

The challenge, then, is keeping the frame in place. A little freedom is fine, but I need my inhibitions. For whatever reason, I go to dark places without them. And I’ve been down that rabbit hole enough times to say that it gets dark indeed.

I do drink socially. It can be fun. It makes me a better singer, at least.

But I would never drink alone. And I can’t see myself ever becoming an alcoholic. I know by now that whatever my problems, drinking would only make them worse. Even if it’s fun for others –

It’s not always fun for me.

So how about you? What’s your relationship with alcohol?