When I was in my twenties and out of my childhood home, I graduated abruptly into an independence that came with an external social connection, for the first time in my life. At home, the second oldest, at age 13, I was passed the responsibility to watch over my younger siblings which meant coming straight home from school, preparing dinner, cleaning the house and then babysitting for neighbors on the weekends. I was a dutiful child, I think most out of fear and survival and some innate sense of responsibility but not sure where that was coming from. In High School, I worked Saturdays and Sundays as a Home Health aide, babysat anytime someone needed me, still was cleaning and cooking; I did not go out, hang out or was involved in any extra school activities except for marching band, (I know..), nor did I engage in the sex, drugs and rock and roll culture of the 70s, (which by the way, I had no idea I was smack dab in the middle of). I knew the kids in my class as we progressed through our school years, but otherwise was involuntarily kept at a distance.
Once I graduated High School, my weekend job morphed into a full time job and my life continued in the same pattern; work and home, home and work, until one day I reconnected with some friends I knew from school and suddenly I was going to parties, hanging out, attending nightly beer bashes at the bar; every night a continuation of the night before. I experimented with drugs; house party candy dishes offered up mounds of quaaludes and yellow jackets, and an abundance of hashish, acid, marijauna and cocaine were within reach, just for the asking.
For some reason I was awfully picky with my drug of choice. I tried things once or not at all and if I didn’t like it, it was off the list. I crossed pot off after three tries; didn’t like the paranoia and then craving fast food at 3 am - Jack in the Box and Taco Bell, ughhh. I refused to try cocaine, not sure why, just no, and then definitely no after my sister rubbed her finger in my mouth, coated with the magical powder under some other guise. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
Someone slipped a quarter hit of acid in my beer at a beach party one night, didn’t know what hit me, (another story) and would never do that again by choice. Didn’t like the downers, tried speed a few times but then I found mescaline, omg. Half a tiny purple pill and I would be laughing my ass off for 6 hours straight. The next day my face would hurt so bad and my body ached from whatever position I had remained in for the ride. Ouch!
However, after six months of “experimenting”, only on weekends, never during the work week, I stopped doing drugs. I guess it just ran its course and I was done. I never questioned my decision, didn’t care what anyone else thought and allowed how I felt to be my guiding light, always. I admit I was an oddity and made people feel very uncomfortable at gatherings while not partaking in the drug induced festivities but my brother Michael would always vouch for me that I was cool and therefore, I was accepted; I think that was because he was cool and everyone knew and loved him; he was also a drug dealer so he had credo….. (harder story). But I realized that once you stop doing what everyone else is doing, even though you are still hanging with them, you become an observer, a “witness”.
But the hell with that. Leaving the drugs behind, I found something else that seemed to be good; drinking. I drank beer and could “chug a lug” with the best of them. My baby brother challenged me one day in front of his friends, to a chug contest and I won by a decent margin. Uh oh. He harassed me constantly for years after, for a rematch, which I always laughed off with excuses until years later, he found me in the parking lot at a Grateful Dead concert and would not let me leave until I agreed to a rematch. He redeemed the title and took my paper Burger King crown from my car for proof; I drank slower than my usual champion stance and let him win on purpose; he needed his pride back and I kept the reason for my defeat to myself. Awwwww, memories.
At some point in my twenties, I left beer, got into wine and could chug a whole bottle of Riesling as well, not that I wanted that to be my claim to fame. I think it was more the challenge, that I had to prove myself and be the victor, a worthy opponent. I know this picture looks like I was a raging alcoholic at one point but it wasn’t like that. For the most part I drank sensibly and kept my wits about me; being in control of myself was paramount. But on occasion “we”, (it was never just me), would get trashed to the max and laugh our asses off. Driving became an olympic event but back then there were no mad mothers keeping drunks off the road, the legal age was 18 in New York and if you could find your car, get into it and drive it, you were on the medal stand. Getting home was the gold. I remember driving drunk - meaning well over the limit maybe twice, a whole lot of other occasions, under the influence; I only hit a curb once and got hit in the rear at a stop light by drunker friends who were following me. Other than that, I was good or maybe just had my guardian angels working overtime. (I have since apologized….)
There was a very small window, in my mid thirties, where I was introduced to Crown Royal and the wonders of losing all inhibition - ones I never even knew I had. No worries, that was extremely short lived but I am sure there are some toll booth veterans who have stories featuring me as the mystery celebrity. And then it stopped. I just stopped drinking altogether. No fanfare, no thought, just didn’t have the taste for it anymore. Done. As a result I became the Designated Driver, not only for everyone else but for myself and for the second time in my life, a “witness”.
I left the drug crowds pretty much back in the 70s and it is hard for people that don’t know me now to fathom how I just don’t drink; they question me at a bar, gathering and then probably think that I am in 12 step, recovering and leave it be. I think when the gate was open to me in very unfamiliar territory I did what everyone else was doing around me. That was the scene and for the first time I was in charge of myself and was allowed to have fun. Was I “done” because I finally grew up and became an adult? Hell no! I am still living out the childhood I never had, hopefully now with more wisdom. Sigh...
But being a very sensory person and relying on my intuition to navigate while in the outside world, my inner self knew that I could not afford to blind my innate GPS with any distractions, interference, too numb as to how I felt and therefore, not able to respond and my entire being just said, “Done” and shut me down.
So I sit in the driver's seat, never judging, hanging out, laughing and enjoying being part of the frivolity, with all of you and a cup of water as refreshment. I am accepted, engaged and invited. When it is time to make plans, you ask me to be your designated driver for the evening and I am happy to do so; it is the least I can do to make sure you and everyone else out there is safe. And maybe that is the one small thing I can do as I bear witness to your life and what you need and how you feel or don’t. When you can barely stand up and your pronunciation has become slurred or plain gibberish or you actually tell everyone you have to stop drinking and then have one more for the road. I listen when you share too much of yourself or open up wide, so vulnerable but oblivious and trust me with things from the depth of you that never see the light of day; shame, guilt, regret, fear or much worse. And I see where we go to hang out, there are others who drink like that as well, until there is nothing left in their mind except the moment they can barely see in.
I will never tell you what to do or try to make you feel bad or guilty, I see you are driving on your own path as I am driving on mine, bearing witness to us both. But I can make sure that as your designated driver, you are comfortable, looked after and listened to and that you always arrive home safely. And I can watch your life unravel, listen to your stories and hold on to them in the strictest of confidence to remind you of who you are and what you are feeling, when you are ready to hear them.
So, anyone need a ride?
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