Christmas, on the Rocks
A newly-sober navigation of the holiday season delivers pure spirit to a recovering alcoholic.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and I really, really wanted a freakin’ drink.
During Christmas dinners past, between courses, you could always find me ducking into my room to hide. I felt incredibly uncomfortable at the table, but I never drank in front of my family—my parents knew I had a problem. I usually held tight and counted the minutes before I could escape and meet up with my friends for a drink (or four). As loving as my family is, they have their moments—and the holidays seem to bring a lot more of them. Admittedly, most families are like this, which is why none of my friends punch the air and grin as they declare, “Yeah, I’m going home for Thanksgiving!” It’s usually more of a dejected sigh of resignation. Understandably, many of us either drink to get through it, or get through it to drink.
Last year, though, the holidays were different for me. At twenty-two years old, in November of 2011, I decided to get sober for good. The timing wasn’t nec…