No Thanks. I'm Allergic.(5)

         “Woa, God bless you! Need a tissue?” says a co-worker. 

         “I have one, thank you,” I reply after letting out an embarrassingly loud and violent sneeze. It’s that time of year again when the seasons change and swirling spores of pollen fill the air. Ah allergies. Don’t you just love them? Mine are fleeting and not too incapacitating, but still make me an unattractive, itchy and watery mess for part of the day.

            In no time, the rest of my co-workers are stuffing their pockets with travel size tissue packs and hand sanitizer.  If it’s not pesky ragweed swelling up their tear ducts, then it’s the furry four legged family members of friends or the tumbleweeds of dust hiding in the corners of their windowsills. It’s always something.

          After work, I head over to a friend’s house to take a walk and enjoy the crisp air despite nature's cruel joke. “Must be Spring. We’re open!” reads a sign in front of an  ice cream shop.            

          “Let’s get some ice cream!” I squeal.

          "I can't, I'm lactose intolerant, remember?" she laments. I've known this for years but always seem to forget.

          "That's right I'm sorry. We don't need the empty calories anyway. Bikini season will be here before we know it!" I counter.

My friend cannot have dairy plain and simple. It's not going to ruin her day.There are plenty of other treats in the world she can enjoy to satisfy her warm weather craving. Italian ice is just as refreshing, if not more so.

           Later on, we pick up our other friend. We have dinner plans and she already has a restaurant in mind. Two months ago she found herself in a hospital bed for three days with a diagnosis of ulcerative colitis-a nasty inflammatory disease of the intestines. In her case, it's aggravated by the intake of gluten. So now, she can't have bread products containing gluten (which is basically anything made with flour and wheat). As we sit down to a nice meal, our menus littered with salads and gluten free-options, the waitress makes her way over with a complimentary bread basket. Ms. lactose dives in while gluten-free looks on.

           "Is it hard not to eat bread, pasta and all the stuff you're so used to eating?" she says, after apologizing for the fresh garlic knot in her mouth.

        "It was at first," replies our deprived friend, "but honestly I'm used to it now and have learned to replace that stuff with other, healthier starches. I love quinoa, sweet potatoes and rice. It's funny how I thought I’d die without bread but it's not a big deal to me now. It's a lifestyle change but a manageable one. I just have to be smart and cautious."

           We order and enjoy our meals without further thought to our food allergies- yes, all three of us have one. Mine is alcohol.

                                       

             I am allergic to alcohol. Some call it an intolerance.  My body and brain cannot process alcohol normally the way other peoples can. It does not cause my stomach to inflame, my skin to break out in hives or my throat to close, but it absolutely alters my chemistry and triggers a negative response from my body. In a sense it’s a hypocritical allergy though, because when I take that first sip, my brain tells my body it needs more, not less. Just as my friend’s gluten intake contributed to her ulcerative colitis, my intake of alcohol contributed to my disease of alcoholism. A disease that runs in my family, much like heart disease or cancer does in other families. I first heard about the allergy concept at an AA meeting. My entire world changed when I learned of it.

In the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous, Dr. William D. Silkworth writes an extensive opinion on the matter. Here is an early excerpt:

"We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of alcohol on these chronic alcoholics is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker. These allergic types can never safely use alcohol in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve.

           Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these alcoholic people must have depth and weight. In nearly all  cases,their ideals must be grounded in a power greater than themselves, if they are to re-create their lives."

            So you mean to tell me there is actually something medically and biologically happening to me when I drink alcohol that makes me act the way I do? That once I reach a certain point, my behavior isn't due to the fact that I'm just an awful, reckless, crazy human being with complete disregard for my actions? That it's beyond my control to stop once I start? Wow. Who woulda thought?

         "It did not satisfy us to be told that we could not control our drinking just because we were maladjusted to life, that we were in full flight from reality,or were outright mental defectives. These things were true to some extent, in fact,to a considerable extent with some of us. But we are sure that our bodies were sickened as well. In our belief, any picture of the alcoholic which leaves           out this physical factor is incomplete.

      

        The doctor's theory that we have an allergy to alcohol interests us. As a laymen our opinion as to its soundness may, of course, mean little. But as ex- problem drinkers, we can say that his explanation makes good sense. It explains many things for which we cannot otherwise account."

So that’s why I drunk dialed everyone in my phone and told them to fuck off and die?!

                                            

            Armed with this liberating information I was ready to take on the world. Alcohol is something I cannot have-period. the end. I've always hated seafood, so much so that I do sometimes tell people I'm allergic to it so they don’t force their newest shrimp and scallop creation down my throat. Due to this, I was used to cutting out an entire food group from my diet. Why did my treatment of alcohol have to be any different? 

            Some people question how I could possibly sit around with peers who are drinking, or even pour them a glass of wine when I play hostess and not want to gulp one down myself, but for me it’s not complicated. Some people need to carry an EpiPen on their person at all times because of how severe their allergy to nuts is. Knowing how detrimental eating them would be to their health, I doubt watching a friend eat a snickers or peanut butter sandwich triggers them to see red and tackle the nut-eating culprit like a linebacker. They know they can't have it so they don't. That's what I've come to understand and accept about my drinking.

            Fast forward a few months where the three allergically challenged musketeers are out to dinner in Vegas at celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay's restaurant. The food is divine. The drinks are flowing. Everyone is enjoying themselves and their choices. I cannot sample their martinis but my seltzer is just as appealing to me. Gluten-free is like a pig in shit over her delicious chilled shrimp salad even though Ms. lactose is directly across the table, chowing down on the best wood-grilled burger she's ever had between a perfectly toasted brioche bun. And Ms. lactose doesn't mind she cannot eat the sticky toffee pudding with sweet ice cream I've ordered for dessert, or the dairy-riddled chocolate trifle. She instead orders the night's special: dark chocolate covered strawberries.

         The world is full of options and accommodations. It's all relative.

             The fact that alcoholism runs in my family put me at a much higher risk of becoming alcoholic than most. Mix that with the allergy and I never stood a chance. But you do not have to come from a family touched by alcoholism or feel you have the allergy for drinking to negatively affect you. There are plenty of people in this world who simply abuse alcohol and drink entirely more than is healthy though they have the ability to stop. Do not be fooled- it can easily balloon into something worse. A dependence on alcohol.

           Whenever someone badgers me about not drinking or declining a shot, I think about how silly they would sound if I were turning down something else I couldn't have, like peanuts, instead of alcohol.

"Come on, have a peanut, just one. No? Come on live a little. Just a handful of Planters and that’s it. You know you want to.”  

    Silly right?

            I was a prisoner to booze for many years. It controlled every aspect of my life. My thoughts, actions, relationships, decisions and behaviors. I refuse to let it pull me down any longer. I refuse to let alcohol dictate where I go simply because it might be making an appearance- like an ex- boyfriend who shows up to every party I attend: annoying at first, but eventually I forget he's even there and set my sites on a blue eyed football player. You do not have to feel like an outcast if you cannot or do not want to drink. There is nothing wrong with you. As the saying goes, those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind. 

          Everyone's got issues, quirks and things that set them apart. No one is perfect. Most people are far from it. Never feel ashamed of the things you cannot or do not want to partake in. There is no one definition of "normal." Whose to decide that anyway? For me, normal means being happy and healthy both mentally and physically. 

           So politely decline a drink or shot if you do not want it. Have confidence in the fact that you come first-no one else. Whether it's April foliage, long-haired cats, shellfish or alcohol, your body will make you aware of what it cannot handle. Listen to it. If for you that intolerance is alcohol, don't wait for a second arrest, loss of ability to manage your life or depression to kick in to recognize you should not drink. This realization could change your life. 

 **Take what you like and leave the rest**

. 

My country tis of thee (4)

   

                            (geared towards-but not limited to-today’s youth)

         Turn on your T.V. Turn on your radio. Check your social media accounts. What do you see? What do you hear?  I am not the first nor will I be the last to make the observation we are a country inundated with images of drugs and alcohol. You cannot escape it no matter how hard you try. Even the Amish, whose chief tenet is “be ye not conformed to this world” and who shun members who use substances, allow their members to shed their protective skin and recreationally experience drugs and alcohol (should they choose to) during a brief period in their youth called Rumspringa.

 We Americans love our booze. We love our weed. We love our pills and powders. We love anything that proves we are capable of obtaining and handling more than anyone else.

Nothing demonstrates this more about our society than celebrity culture. With fame, attention and money comes the concept you are invincible and have the funds to indulge in any excess you choose. You’re not a true rock star unless you’re sniffing lines while scribbling away timeless lyrics. The only way to celebrate a successful album or movie release is with bottles upon bottles of chilled, top shelf liquor and no memory of the night’s events. And the only way to achieve recognition in the first place is by conforming to the age-old formulas of what sell in the entertainment industry: sex, partying, drugs and alcohol. 

           The most recent and glaring example of this is Miley Cyrus’s radio hit “We Can’t Stop.” How apropos she is without even realizing! We know you can’t stop Miley-you’re strung out dancing on molly and waiting in line to sniff coke in the bathroom. But eventually, she and “they” will stop. They will be forced to. Most likely after an arrest, third stint at Malibu Passages or overdose at the Chateau Marmont. And it’s hard to live up to the lyrics “We run things, things don’t run we. Don’t take nothin’ from nobody” from a jail cell or detox center. On the contrary, sober artists like Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and Lana Del Rey are gaining praise and recognition not only for their talents, but honesty about past struggles with substance abuse and positive messages.

            When it comes to Miley and her counterparts, I am making assumptions entirely. They could simply be going through a rebellious and experimental stage, all the more happy to document it for the public, and will have no issue whatsoever. Or perhaps struggle for some time before seeing the light and cleaning up their acts.  After all, who remembers that the now chic fashion icon and doting mom Nicole Richie was once a heroin addict? Or that Hollywood had written off Robert Downey JR as a drug addicted has-been before his massive comeback in the blockbuster Iron Man? Or furthermore, that the successful and quirky actress Drew Barrymore first went to rehab at age 13? I do not by any means believe that because I am an alcoholic, drinking will lead to disaster for everyone. Or that anyone who tries a drug will become an addict. Those are ridiculous notions. But the sad truth is, more often than not, problems (large or small) will occur due to the use of these very things. It's the nature of their beast.

            So why do we continue to praise and worship this celebrity, drug and alcohol addicted culture? Because it’s what we’ve come to know. It’s nothing new. It’s deep rooted in our past and unfortunately sprouting new life in our future. Although she has been gone for many years, the tragic tale of Marilyn Monroe (a woman whose life and story I identify with on many levels) lives on. Her misguided childhood, mixed with her internal demons, drug and alcohol use and impossible to fathom level of fame made for a very painful and despairing life. No person should be held so high on a pedestal that the fall would break their neck. All that glitters is not gold. Portraying the life of someone who is happy and has it all and living that life are two completely different things. Don’t be so quick to think your Hennessy swiggin’, blunt smoking role models lives’ are all they’re cracked up to be.

 Self- medication is viewed as a quick fix for many. I did not have the pressures of fame, constant ridicule or devastating problems of some and I still sought out a way to numb myself.

             It’s interesting to me that in most cases the concept of “not having control” over something is a scary, even paralyzing, thought - in relationships, with our finances, our health, our careers, our emotions- but not when it comes to substances. We pass along the responsibility of our frontal lobe like a hot potato. If someone were to steal your wallet or unexpectedly force you out of your home, you’d panic right?  You’d feel helplessly out of control. But if something were to steal your ability to reason, to function, to make good decisions, you’d consider that a welcomed hazard. Impairment of speech and judgment are signs you “can really throw em’ back.” Waking up with a hangover and no recollection of your actions are the signs of a time well had. Drunken antics are hysterically laughed at by friends and even admired. 

              “Dude, you were so funny last night. You blacked out and started dancing like an idiot, then wiped out in the parking lot. It was awesome.”

Then there’s that whole buzzed and loose feeling thing that convinces you of being the coolest person on the planet. Your inhibitions are lowered and the suppressed parts of your personality are allowed not only to surface, but thrive. Marketing firms and corporations have done their job well. “America runs on Drunken” is a truer slogan. They sold us the idea that life without booze makes you a dull person; makes your life mundane and socially unacceptable- and we bought it: hook, line and sinker.

It’s difficult not to offend or come off as “preachy” when making a social commentary about the cons of drugs and drinking. If you do not have a substance abuse problem, then by all means, enjoy a martini at happy hour; a six pack during the big game or a glass of wine with your chicken Pomodoro. But keep in mind, you do not have to drink six martinis. Or an entire 30 rack to yourself because it’s Sunday and Budweiser tells you football isn’t the same without a cold brew attached to your hand at all times. Or order another glass of wine simply because your date does. Do not let anyone or anything make that decision for you. I don’t care how attractive Absolute Vodka advertisements subliminally promise to make you. I don’t care how many shots your favorite rap artist is taking in his new video. It doesn’t make him cool and you will never be him no matter how hard you try.

 Alcoholism is a progressive disease. It only gets worse, never better. So if you find yourself unable to stop after that martini, or few beers or glass of wine, take a good hard look at your drinking. If you cannot go one day without smoking weed, it’s time re-think your priorities and goals in life. Being a 40 year old drunk or stoner is not a good look- for anyone.

Yes, we are America the brave. The free. An amazing country that affords its citizens endless opportunities and I would not want to live anywhere else. But we are also America the drunk. The high. The culturally shallow and celebrity obsessed. Our capitalistic hunger and blind need for acceptance sometimes hinders our ability to make the right choices. It’s an unfortunate and hard truth to swallow.

            With that said, the great thing about this country is you can be whoever you want to be. Two and a half years ago I was an alcoholic mess, shaking my scantily clad ass to pop songs about getting shitfaced. And now here I am, sober and exercising my right to free speech by condemning Miley Cyrus. You do not have to live up to anyone’s standards but your own. You do not have to drink if you don’t want to.  I challenge you to discover who you are in a social setting without drinking or doing a drug-you will be surprised at how confident, fun, and intelligent you are without them, and what little advantage they give you in connecting to others. Most new people I meet who learn I am sober do not dismiss me, but are instead intrigued and interested to learn more. I feel just as lively, sexy and fun with only seltzer running through my veins. 

            So take the time to get to know yourself. Do not be so influenced by what this world tries to shove down your throat. Drug use and alcohol abuse are not a glamorous template by which to measure success. They have, and will continue to be, the downfall of many.

 You only have one body, one mind, one shot to make something of this life. Don't waste it being wasted.

**take what you like and leave the rest**

“When I find myself in times of trouble _____________ comes to me” (3)

               

             ”Forgive me father for I have sinned, it’s been three months since my last confession,” I say to the faceless priest on the other side of the screen. I am 10 years old and searching for things to confess because if I don’t, god will hold it against me.

                

             “Yesterday, I borrowed my sister’s things without asking. I was mean to my parents. I made fun of someone in my class,” I nervously admit.

               

              “Ok child. God forgives you. Say one Our Father and three Hail Marys.”

              Phew! I can go to softball practice now without worrying about eternal damnation.

               It was my parent’s choice to raise me Roman Catholic. I had no say in the matter. From a very young age I began to feel suffocated by the teachings of the church and questioned their merit. Being forced to go to CCD when all I really wanted to do was play outside became a key factor in my teenage rebellion.

Why do I have to go to church every Sunday? Why do I need absolution from a man who knows nothing about me or my life? I highly doubted the difference between my places in heaven or hell would be determined by the conservative dress I wore to service or my abstinence from pre-marital sex.

            I dumped religion and god into the same pile of ludicrousness. At 14, I told my mother after I made my confirmation I would only attend mass on Christmas and Easter, and that was purely for her benefit and peace of mind. I did not care if I ever prayed to Jesus again (except of course when I needed him to help me ace an exam or convince my parents to extend my curfew.)
            When I entered high school the concept of god became completely obsolete. He was replaced by the savior of alcohol and the bar became my church. I learned all I thought I needed to know about life there. Resolution and validation could be found at the bottom of every bottle; shots of bourbon became my penance. From the ages of 16 to 24 I ran wild with careless abandon, caring only about myself and what I could get from others to fulfill my selfish needs. I did everything I could to portray the image of someone who believed in nothing and needed no one. Life had no substance and people were just faces in a crowd.

            Towards the end of my drinking career, I began to feel the effects of my closed minded loneliness. What was my purpose in life? Why am I here? My way of living life was getting me nowhere except embarrassed, depressed, disconnected and regretful. When I finally grabbed hold of an unseen, outstretched hand and allowed something besides myself to take the reins, I got sober and changed my life. I had my first light bulb about god at an AA meeting during a reading from the big book:

(Chap. 4 WE AGNOSTICS)

                    (pg.46) With that rejection we imagine we had abandoned the God idea entirely. We were bothered with the thought that faith and dependence upon a Power greater than ourselves was somewhat weak, even cowardly. We looked upon this world of warring individuals, warring theological systems, and inexplicable calamity, with deep skepticism. We looked askance at many individuals who claimed to be godly. How could a Supreme Being have anything to do with it all? And who could comprehend a Supreme Being anyhow?  Yet, in other moments, we found ourselves thinking, when enchanted by a starlit night, “Who, then, made all this? There was a feeling of awe and wonder, but it was fleeting and soon lost.

            I was never a full blown atheist, but I didn’t think I needed religion or whatever spirit in the clouds was hovering above my halo-less head. My issues with organized religion manifested into a dark and despairing black hole, slowly sucking me into the abyss of alcohol, sex, gluttony and ruin. But in my new found clarity, I discovered my injustices of thought.

            (pg49-50) We have learned that whatever the human frailties of various faiths may be, those faiths have given purpose and directions to millions. People of faith have a logical understanding of what life is all about. Actually, we used to have no reasonable conception whatsoever. We used to amuse ourselves by cynically dissecting spiritual beliefs and practices when we might have observed that many spiritually-minded persons of all races, colors, and creeds were demonstrating a degree of stability, happiness and usefulness which we should have sought ourselves. Instead, we looked at the human defects of these people, and sometimes used their shortcomings as a basis of wholesale condemnation. We talked of intolerance, while we were intolerant ourselves. We missed the reality and the beauty of the forest because we were diverted by the ugliness of some of its trees.

            With this new found support from people in recovery just like me, I learned I could take it slow and form my own conception of a higher power. It could be whatever I wanted it to be. I wrote down all the qualities I looked for in a best friend or companion and formed my conception based on those. For many years, my best friend and lover was a liquid; terrible, cunning, manipulative and abusive. Without even realizing, I had been devoted and reliant upon something more powerful than myself all along.

            (pg 54) We found, too, that we had been worshippers. What a state of mental goose-flesh that used to bring on! Had we not variously worshipped people, sentiments, things, money, and ourselves? And then, with a better motive, had we not worshipfully beheld the sunset, the sea, or a flower? Who of us had not loved something or somebody?

            Today I consider myself to be spiritual, not religious, and that works for me. I see my higher power in many different forms: in the kindness of strangers; in my parent’s unwavering strength and hope; in the friends who have stuck by me. I have to admit there is a comfort in knowing something out there in the universe has my back, like a loved one waiting in the wings with flowers and a hug to congratulate me on a job well done. I do not dismiss religious people or their beliefs. My mother’s faith has gotten her through some very tough times. But for me, religious texts serve the same purpose as the childhood fables my teachers and parents used to teach me important lessons. They carry an overall message. 

“Pride goeth before the fall” is a prescription I take daily. I cannot do this alone. I cannot be so arrogant as to think everything is in my control, because most things are not. “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you ” is something I strive to adhere to at all times. Humility is one of the most attractive qualities a person can have, and that cannot be possessed without the understanding that you are but a brush stroke in the portrait of life.

            It does not matter who or what you choose to believe in as long as you have faith. Imagine Paul McCartney singing whatever works for you: Mother Mary; Jesus Christ: the roses in your garden; Brandon Boyd; The Simpsons; a tropical oasis; your family. 

            Currently, I see my higher power in Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Tomorrow it may be in the friends I meet in AA, and the next day, a saintly figure. So choose an entity, a belief system or your own conception of what it all means, because after all,

                                

            (pg 64) Who are you to say there is no God?

MACKLEMORE & RYAN LEWIS- NEON CATHEDRAL

**Take what you like and leave the rest**