I’ll be the first to admit that I can be an asshole.
I don’t want to say I am an asshole, because there is more to me than my negative qualities, but the potential is in me.
I have insecurities. I have some anger. I have a wall built up around me. I have anxiety. I have depression. I have body dysmorphia. I have a skewed sense of self.
I’ve been better about dealing with my shit in recent years, but I still fuck up. Therapy has helped a lot. Quitting drinking has also helped a lot. I still feel fucked up sometimes, but it’s gotten easier to manage.
They say that you don’t become a different person when you drink, your filters just go down. Alcohol amplifies whatever is inside of you. My last night of drinking made me realize, for the final time, that I really didn’t like what was being amplified from within me. Drinking was amplifying my insecurities and freeing me to pick fights and confront strangers about whatever was bothering me in that moment. I was making a fool of myself at events. I was putting myself in dangerous situations. I was unable to have just one drink. I was out of control.
The last time I got drunk, I went nuts. I was in Los Angeles. I was staying with a friend. We had a fun night out after a successful reading and we hit the bars hard. Then we went to a liquor store and I bought a liter of Tito’s vodka to take back to my friend’s place, where a party was happening. I remember talking about the Rugrats conspiracy theory and wanting to sit in a dark room. That’s the last thing I remember. I was told that at some point I took off all my clothes in the middle of the party and started crying because someone didn’t want to make out with me (because I was too drunk). I woke up still drunk the next day and asked my friends what I had done. They didn’t want to get into details, which made me think that my behavior was especially bad. I felt disgusting all over, physically, mentally, spiritually. I felt very ashamed of myself, and not for the first time.
I was hungover for two days.
On the first day I was scheduled to perform at an event. I spent most of the day trying to sober up. I remember walking to a diner under a hot sun and feeling like I was going to die. I remember sitting in the diner and not being able to eat much of my food. I remember texting “hey, how are you doing” to someone who I went on one date with the year before who had overcome a drinking problem, which was probably inappropriate but in that moment I was looking for solidarity (he didn’t text back, I think he had changed his number). I remember going back to my friend’s place and watching Beetlejuice or Clueless or some other movie I love and falling asleep. I remember taking a shower at another friend’s house and going to the reading and getting up on stage and reading half a page of what I had brought then saying, “I really don’t feel like finishing this,” then walking back to my seat.
On the second day, I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels and attended a mass. When I walked in, the choir was singing in Spanish. I recognized the tune as “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel. It felt like a moment for me, cinematic and meaningful, a song I love played over a beautiful and strange setting. “Hello darkness my old friend,” I thought as I found an empty seat in a pew and sat down next to a family dressed in their Sunday best. I wanted to take advantage of the moment and make the meaningful feeling count for something. I decided that I was going to quit for good. And I did.
Quitting drinking has helped me in a lot of ways. It’s made me less self destructive. I have a greater sense of clarity in my thoughts and actions. I don’t wake up paralyzed with an overpowering guilty feeling. I still can be an asshole at times, but so can anyone. I have more power over my behavior. If I catch myself feeling angry over something silly, I can snap out of it when it’s happening. At the very least I can remember it.
It’s been five years and I don’t ever see myself going back. I like who I am more now.