My personal decision not to drink anymore is not an issue of me appearing religious or an attempt at a pa-banal effect. I don’t think being sober makes me better or holier than any one else, but I do think it makes me a better me. It’s not an issue of whether drinking is a sin in the Bible or not. It’s not about appearances.
Yeah, drinking was fun, but getting wasted sure ain’t. I don’t like the way I act, think or feel when drunk. I cringe at the memories of my actions and the things that come out of my mouth when under the influence of alcohol. I’m in no position to say whether I’m an alcoholic or not, but I do know –after more than 15 years of drinking – that I can’t control it once I take that initial sip. I don’t drink; I get drunk. And I don’t want my daughter coming up to me later on and saying, “Mom it’s okay for me to get drunk because you’ve done it for years.”
I’m not judging people who drink. I’m judging myself. Let’s not turn this into an issue of me versus your own drinking habits. If you enjoy it, fine. If you can drink and not turn into a stark, raving lunatic like I often do, kudos to you. You have the self-control that has eluded me for years. That’s your life. I got my own demons to battle with.
On my 29th birthday month last year, I dared myself not to drink for one whole month. It was met with a lot of surprise and mostly disbelieving jeers. “Ikaw pa?” was what they’d told me. I did manage to go through the entire month, and for the most part of last year. There were still several instances when I got really smashed, probably because although I had presumably changed, some old habits refused to go away immediately.
My last drink (and unfortunately, drunken episode) was right before last year ended. I had planned not to drink at our department’s year end party but an incident at work got me justifying “just a couple of drinks” to loosen up. By the time the night ended, I had poured out my personal problems to my boss (good thing he didn’t let that little episode prevent him from giving me a relief manager post months later, nyaha!), turned into a blubbering mess and drunk dialed someone I shouldn’t have talked to in the first place.
Anybody who’s ever been with me during my drinking sprees can attest to my, er, infamous “transformations.” There’s even a running joke back in my old team about the “stages of Jaz getting drunk:” I get hyper then angry, then I start throwing things around and slapping people, then I suddenly get super emotional and break down in tears. After that comes the throwing up and passing out.
Again, this is a personal decision I know I can only really achieve with the help of His grace. This is not a panata or penitence or a token to God so I’ll go to heaven. Jesus pretty much took care of that for me on the Cross. This is me trying not to destroy myself. This is me deciding not to give in to the one vice that turns me into a compulsive, careless, hurtful human being that does and says things she regrets once the inebriation wears off.
So the next time you offer me a drink and I decline, please don’t take my refusal as a rebuff of your friendship or a judgment of your character. I’m not saying these to be defensive. I mean, you asked, right? It’s not personal to you, but it is very personal to me.
“You have been bought with a price–use your body to glorify God. (1 Corinthians 6:19, 20)
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