Why Drinking More Is a Trap For The Quarantined
We are being held against our will so we can survive our lives. The consequences of inactivity without the promise of an end date evidently varies based on socio-economic prowess.
The wealthy and blessed are able to hightail it to luxurious spots like The Hamptons, or remain in their million-dollar fortresses where they can stage three-act plays that include boring TikTok sessions and the viral sensations depicting basic human tendencies.
For those of us who are stuck in neutral gear that slings backwards to the place we’ve been struggling to avoid and hoped to never see again, this period of uncertainty that carries the extra dose of imminent fear of irrevocable damage on all fronts, is the exact formula for tragic reversion.
I know what it means to swear against the practice of relying on the medicinal effects of the trusted bottle that contains what’s desired when shit hits the fan and splatters everything in sight.
You’ve been down in the gutter and scraped the greenish surfaces with drunken relish. You boldly broke the rules and shit all over the codes of conduct in an effort to shield the open secret of mental disarray, that ends up betraying your capacity to hold it together when bursting at the seams.
You were doing so well!
The first step is to accept what you are, when what you were couldn’t continue to sustain your broken system.
Once that’s done, you can settle on the mandated steps of recovery.
It’s not that you couldn’t stop. It’s mostly about not doing what you needed to do, when you could still prevent the inevitable spiraling.
You were able to successfully choose life over the epitome of spitting on the invaluable gift that can be rescinded at anytime without notice.
The rhythmic victory of overcoming what almost reduced you to bits is like no other, which makes it all the more unbearable when fate takes an unplanned detour down the path of frightening persuasions.
Unprecedented disasters that have a direct effect on functionality, and the perpetual outlook that shuts down from the side effects of a deadly pandemic, can absolutely reignite the old habits that die hard.
The biting age of social media only increases the threat of backsliding, as blissful and self-absorbed users bask in the glory of being able to gloriously live out loud.
We are being attacked with uncalled for demonstrations of how to chill and soak up the good life indoors, with platters of cooked meals and bottles of wine and everything else to compliment the bountiful accompaniments.
This is trigger-worthy territory of grand proportions, and there’s no rulebook to guide us though treacherous territory, that deepens our utter helplessness and mocks the progress we made and believed we could maintain before the world decided to end.
I guess this is a PSA that will fall on deaf ears because of how we’ve relinquished the vibes of decent human behavior, and adopted the robotic bloodstream that makes us immune to the reality of how reckless behavior can lead vulnerable souls astray.
Sharing your joy at being able to miraculously juggle these volatile times with admirable ease is part of the schematic bullet points, that illustrious purveyors of Silicon Valley were banking on, to fund exotic trips to meditative corners of the earth that shut out the violence they wrought.
But in real life, there are way more victims of this unfolding nightmare compared to the lucky few, who can recline in the convenience of privileges that blind open eyes to the detrimental repercussions of wickedly parading access to good food, booze, and limitless time to wait for the storm to pass.
I am definitely drinking more wine than usual, and while I’m more determined than ever to not teeter near the dreaded edge, I’m also unable to resist the urge to “calm my nerves” because if there was ever a time to unapologetically surrender to the bottle within reach — this would be it!
And nobody in their right mind would fault you for backsliding, due to the glaring reasons why you should be wasted as much as possible.
Active platforms practically cosign the need to get lost in the haze that you almost didn’t evacuate in a timely fashion.
Drinking more than you’re supposed to is the trap for quarantined contenders who were halted in mid-action, and now have to re-assemble collected debris in an effort to re-build what took so much to reposition for the long-awaited return to what was lost and found.
There’s suffering happening in private, amid loud voices heralding this new age of hustle mode, that won’t quit over rising death tolls and lock down of economic power to those who were powerless to begin with.
Please be mindful of what you post before you share.
Casual references to soaking up your troubles with liquor after devouring heaps of pasta with eye-popping visuals to boot, against the backdrop of business as usual is innocent until the wrong recipients are reminded of their more dire state of affairs.
The mental anguish stemming from the high stress of diminishing bank accounts and piling expenses, including the rent that must be paid or else, is more than enough incentive to buy out liquor stores and never look back.
Nobody will fault the ultimate stubble but who will be there to pick you up when life resumes the daily grind that was going to eventually kill you?
We need to live for ourselves and to make that happen, drastic reduction of social engagement shouldn’t just be reserved for the streets.
Do what you need to do to stay sober for at least most of the day, and avoid the temptation from those who can afford to lose their shit and repurchase their sanity.
And remember…you are not alone.