The Hit List - Wine down - The Tarot Lady

I come from a long line of heavy drinkers. My grandparents made moonshine, and one of my grandfathers would drink away what little money he had, leaving a pittance to care for his thirteen children. The love of drinking got passed down to my parents, especially my father. Mom ditched it at some point, although I don’t remember why.

Booze brought out a mean streak in Dad, so I wasn’t interested in following in his footsteps, even though he seemed to want me to be his drinking buddy. I didn’t like the taste of beer and hated his alcohol-fueled tantrums, so it didn’t appeal to me.

Unlike a lot of my peers, I didn’t spend my teenage years in a wasteland of booze and drugs. I rarely partook. The hardest thing I drank was Mountain Dew.

But in midlife, I started to drink wine. It began casually with friends around dinner and conversation. Finally, I discovered something I enjoyed drinking! Wine loosened me up (I’m actually really anxious and uptight). It signaled the end of the day, time to relax and unwind.

I graduated from casual to regular drinking after my mother died. It was the only way to relieve my tension after being thrust into the role of caregiver for my father. Mom left him with a mountain of debt, and I was tasked with fixing that, all the while fending off drama with siblings who seemed more interested in making my life a living hell instead of helping. Wine helped me forget and carry on.

Dad eventually passed, but my habit stuck. I was never a blackout drinker. In fact, I rarely got shit-faced. It was always measured. Even so, I learned I could drink men twice my size under the table without slurring my words. I’ve never had a hangover. Alcohol never altered my mood. There were no booze-induced rages or crying jags. I was a “good” drinker.

So I drank. It was usually a glass or two in the evening. Maybe three on the weekend. I lingered over wine while cooking, jazz music lilting in the background. Many good dinners were enjoyed over a bottle of Merlot with friends. Sometimes, I felt I “needed” a glass when the news was stressful; other times, I felt wine needed to be in the picture because I had something to celebrate. There was always an excuse.

Our alcohol-obsessed culture promotes the idea of wine as a sophisticated way to relax. “Wine moms” are a thing – you can find shirts with funny sayings about it being the antidote to motherhood. There are magazines devoted to it (yes, I subscribe to one). Splashy ads show classy women clinking glasses and laughing at a club. Heck, there are studies lauding the health benefits of a regular glass. In other words, it’s everywhere. They want us to drink. A lot.

So, it’s not shocking that so many of us end up consuming it on a regular basis. We’re encouraged to imbibe. It makes us “cool,” “fun,” and “refined.”

Although I wasn’t a problem drinker, after a while, I started to question my relationship with alcohol. Why do I feel I need this glass at the end of the day? From time to time, I would ditch it, only to go back when something shitty happened. I put on weight for the first time, which I didn’t like…but I looked for other things to cut out to keep that glass of nightly wine.

Then, menopause happened. Boy, howdy, did that change things for me! Suddenly, I was cursed with wicked insomnia, something that ruined many days. My weight crept up further. I knew wine was the culprit.

I began to cut way back. I went from a daily glass or two to only the weekends. My weight stabilized, and my sleep returned, except on the weekends, when the two glasses turned into three. I dialed it back further. One day on the weekend. A dinner out with friends. My sleep was much happier. But still….I thought about it more than I should.

I bought a small box of wine for election night a few weeks ago. I hoped it would be for a celebration. Instead, it became a coping crutch as the results came in. The following day, I decided I didn’t want to numb out the next four years. So I stopped. Period. Like my mother. Except my reason is clear.

Will I have wine again? If I’m out at a lovely restaurant or celebrating a wedding, yes. But the regular day-to-day? Nope. I’m done.

Wine down.

I don’t want to miss a thing.

Theresa

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