2 decisions, 20 years apart
I was 15 when I smoked my first cigarette. That's nothing unusual; the unusual part of this story is that my little sister and her friend were the ones who coaxed me into trying. At 12 years old they both had already some experience in cigarette smoking and wanted to share their thrilling new secret with me.
It took them a while to convince me (I've always been something of a wet blanket), but eventually I agreed.
The three of us went into a nearby forest, away from spying eyes. It was late afternoon on a spring day, and the sun was already low enough for her rays to dip in between the trees, giving everything a golden, dreamy quality. It was such a special moment that I've never forgotten it. The light, the smell of spring in the air, the warm feeling of being included in a group (even if it was just my little sister and her friend), the thrill of doing something forbidden - it was a powerful combination. The cigarette itself was disappointing: I coughed, despite not inhaling properly, and thought it tasted terrible.
Still, as a teenager in the 90s in Germany it was easier to smoke than not to smoke. My entire family smoked, all my friends did, and even though I didn't buy my own cigarettes for years, someone would regularly offer me one. That simple gesture of someone sharing what's theirs is a really special one: it makes you feel warm, like you belong. For someone who never felt like she quite belonged anywhere, this gesture was too good to resist: I took the cigarette and smoked it.
A few months after that special moment in the forest I started going out regularly (it was the 90s, remember), and it wasn't unusual that one of my friends would pop a lit cigarette into my mouth, as a token of friendship and a signal to GET THIS PARTY STARTED!
That's me at 20 or 21
I half-smoked, half didn't all the way until December of 2001. And then a weekend in a cabin in the mountains changed everything.
2001 was the worst year of my life. I was heartbroken, I felt like an outcast in my own family, and yet I was living back at home because of a 6-month practicum in the forest where I learnt to cut down trees with a chainsaw and was freezing my butt off.
When one of my friends invited me and a bunch of others for a visit in his forest ranger's hunting cabin, I jumped at the chance. A weekend away from familial misery and having to see my ex with my sister living their happily ever after across from my bedroom window? Yes, please!
(You can read the whole story in my book Let's Pretend This is Normal).
It was a great weekend. The forest was deeply snowed in, the cabin was rustic, and we spent the weekend cooking and drinking together, having snowball fights, bonfires, hikes through the woods, long conversations - and smoking lots and lots of cigarettes.
By the time I came home on Sunday night I was sick to my stomach from all the smoking.
I've had enough.
And you know what? I've never smoked again. I had my last cigarette in front of a fire surrounded by friends in the middle of the Black Forest in Germany on a cold December night, and it was as memorable as my first cigarette has been.
I didn't plan to quit - I simply had enough.
And about 3 weeks ago, on a solo weekend away from home, I've experienced something similar.
A few months after my first cigarette I tried alcohol for the first time. Even though I grew up in Germany where some parents let their kids have the occasional sip of beer or champagne, I had never tried it. I hated the smell of alcohol and had zero desire to taste it.
But peer pressure struck again, and at our annual village festival I gave in and tried Kleiner Feigling, a fig liqueur. It came in tiny bottles that held a shot, and they were easy to come by. During the festival adults gave them out like candy to teenagers, remembering fondly their own youth. It was sweet and sticky, and just like with my first cigarette, the thrill of being included (in a group of boys, no less!), the hiding behind the tent and furtive downing of something adult was exciting.
I didn't like it much, but the experience was exhilarating. Over the next few years I would drink socially when I went out with my friends on the weekends, but never at home during the week. I rarely overdid it because I had to work at my parent's farmers market on Saturdays and play the organ in church on Sundays, and it was too hard to do either with a hangover. During those years I mainly stuck to drinks that tasted as little like alcohol as possible, mixing beer with lemonade, Blue Curacao with orange juice, or whiskey with coke. My favourite bar offered something whose name I can't remember, but which I drank for years: dark beer with coke and cherry liqueur. It was sweet and tasted only vaguely of beer - perfect.
I didn't start drinking beer until college (beer was the cheapest), and wine until I was in my 20s.
And it wasn't until I was in my 30s that the habit crept in. Without me realizing it I slowly went from a social drinker who only had a couple and was the designated driver more often than not, to drinking regularly.
And why wouldn't I? Alcohol is everywhere.
Wine in particular is being sold so effectively as the quintessential female drink that I started to subconsciously adopt the message that I saw everywhere I looked: wine was a crucial part of a full and vibrant life.
It was reward after a long day, comfort after a tough one, it made boring days more fun and it was the essential ingredient of any celebration. Could you imagine a party without booze? It was unthinkable.
There are a gazillion "funny" wine memes out there emblazoned on merchandise: mugs inscribed with "breakfast wine". Wine glasses with snappy sayings like "I make wine disappear. What's your superpower?", "Wine goes in, fun comes out", "Any friend of wine is a friend of mine", "I only drink wine on days that end in y".
There are decorative signs with more hilarious wine-related humour: "Corks are for quitters", "I just rescued some wine. It was trapped in a bottle.", "All I want is to drink wine and pet my dog", "WTF: Wine Time Finally", and the ever popular: "It's always wine o'clock".
There are wine bras, glasses so big they fit an entire bottle (in keeping with the recommended 1 glass per day), countless shirts and sweaters imprinted with funny sayings, socks that state "If you can read this bring me wine", wine yoga, beer yoga, runs with alcohol, even a marathon with wine stops ("Half Corked Marathon" in the Okanagan: approximately 19k with 16(!!) wine stops on the way).
We're consuming that shit nonstop. When I started blogging in 2013, a very popular item to include in one's bio was to be a "lover of wine", or saying that one of your hobbies was "drinking wine". I had that in my bio myself for a while - we put it in to convey the message that we were fun and not boring.
Hilarious.
When the pandemic hit the pro-alcohol messages became even louder. "I ran out of toilet paper but not wine" someone quipped (a news anchor? a celebrity? I can't remember), and we all laughed and felt seen. My own drinking ratcheted up several notches as well, because I felt that was the thing to do.
And don't forget that alcohol is a highly addictive substance. Even Wikipedia states in its definition that "alcohol is one of the most widely used recreational drugs" - yes, it says drugs.
The dopamine release we get when we drink is what makes those glasses of wine so enjoyable. But as we keep drinking them, our body gets used to it and we need more and more to get the same dopamine rush.
Things that naturally boost our dopamine levels - sleep, sex, lying in the sun, exercise, hobbies like drawing or creating something - can't reach the highs that drugs - in this case alcohol - give us. That's why it's so much easier to reach for the wine bottle than for the yoga mat.
Anyway, back to my story. 3 weeks ago I was at work in my home away from home. It was a snowy weekend, I was alone in the house, and I pulled the couch in front of the fireplace and watched movies and TV shows all weekend long. One of the show I watched was And Just Like That... (which I LOVE and highly, highly recommend). Miranda's story line is heading towards her having a drinking problem. If you've seen Sex and the City you know that the ladies are no strangers to cocktails (a Cosmo was the honorary 5th girl in the group), so it's really interesting to see how they decided to develop the story 20 years after their partying, cocktail-swigging 30s.
I love Miranda - she's definitely my favourite this season
And just like that - I felt I got a glimpse into my future. If I kept up my wine consumption, where would I be in my 50s or 60s? What possible health issues was I exposing myself to? (Alcohol is a recognized carcinogen.)
I've know several people who died of liver cirrhosis, or have diseases that lead directly back to their over-consumption of alcohol.
And all health concerns aside, how much is it actually serving me? Is it helping me reach my goals or hindering it? (Hint: it's the latter.)
On that weekend 3 weeks ago I received a powerful nudge from an outside force to re-evaluate my life choices. And I knew without an ounce of doubt that it was time to change.
I'm currently taking a break from drinking. I started mid-December and my short-term goal is to complete dry January. But with every day without booze I'm feeling better, more energized, and more like myself, so I'll most likely keep going. For the first time in months I'm jumping out of bed in the morning excited for the day! My anxiety has gone way down, my sleep is better, and my creative juices are flowing. I have some big goals this year (I'll share them in a blog post soon), and I'm more confident than ever that I will reach most of them.
Are you participating in dry January? What do you think of And Just Like That? How's 2022 going so far? Tell me!
Much love and here's to the Best.Year.EVER!!
xoxo Miriam
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Vol. 76