Revisiting Alcohol
<! --I reflected on this on September 1, 2024 -->
I poured out everything that remained of my alcohol collection today. I've known my body can't really take it anymore for over a year, and by surgery time knew with medical certainty that there was no outcome that would make it safe for me to have. I think part of me was still hoping for a reckless glass of celebratory scotch that was never going to happen. And now cannot happen.
You mourn life and normalcy in fits and starts. I haven't felt much since I got home in July. But it's September now, the tourists are leaving, the season is changing, and the geese are practising Vs. It's a reflective sort of time for me, and pouring it all out hits a much more raw nerve than I expected.
From the comments
James Petrosky: I've definitely mentioned it before, but it fits well here.
After academia and I had a pretty rough falling out (undiagnosed, dangerously wrongly treated bipolar disorder played a part), I had no idea what to do with myself. I spent a couple years temping and working retail, and knew that wasn't for me. But it taught me I liked people. And like a lot of hipster types at the time (2012-2014jsh), I got into making drinks.
Over the next few years I made all the drinks at gatherings and family events, and really enjoyed the experimentation and adventure of it.
I started work at my final employer in 2015, as a temp. I didn't know if I was going to make another try and grad school, finish the courses I needed for a geology designation, or try my hand at mixology school. And becoming a bartender was more than just a passing fancy (although it may have been just a bipolar/ADHD fancy).
Obviously I didn't do it, and not regret that decision. But getting rid of these bottles is getting rid of something that was once very important to me.
James Petrosky: I've written a lot of morbid and depressing shit over the last year, and this may be the first time it's pure mourning, without a hint of anxiety, terror or anticipation thrown in.
James Petrosky: (I actually kept a full bottle of pisco I bought in Peru, I don't know why, if I haven't drank it in ten years, I probably never was going to, but some things are too hard
Ryan: Man, of all the things you’ve posted, this has been the most . . . like really reckoning with things, at least as I’m parsing it.
I know you’re not a person of faith, and I am not one any longer, but the feeling I have toward you in this moment is one I only have words for in a faith based context, and I don’t know how to say them in a way that doesn’t rely on a fantasy. But I’m going to try here, so please forgive any weird phrasing:
I feel the echo of your heart within me.
James Petrosky: Ryan I've tried and failed three times at a response, so instead all just say thank you.
Ryan McGill: James Petrosky it’s all good, friend. I find myself in the same situation with many of your posts, but this one connected in a way that I couldn’t just leave a reaction. And with what we know about human memory, I think I’m going to carry it with just about every glass I raise.
James Petrosky: The fucking wild thing is that I actually wanted to talk about being off work for a year, because we're 6 hours away from that. But it's recycling this week, and decided I wanted to dust the bottle shelf. And here we are. Nothing is ever planned, things just happen because the universe is chaotic and impenetrable and beautiful.
James Petrosky: Because I'm having Something Of A Day, I went and broke into my forbidden song vault and listened to Kettering by The Antlers. And that was very dumb of me. The vault has been resealed.