Drinking Games

by Sarah Levy

When I laid in bed at night, I felt empty. I thought that if I just pushed myself a little bit harder, I would snap out of it. There was no logical reason for the loneliness that had taken up residence in my body. I had a privileged upbringing, with access to education, food, shelter, and a loving family.

yuppp

I also try too hard.

because I was smart, high-achieving,

achieving, and young. I was

see also high functioning anxiety / depression

heated hip-hop yoga classes. These “power flows” involved fast-paced yoga sequences set to Drake playlists in a ninety-degree room.

I loved y7 <3

I threw various words around—anxious, depressed, overworked—but overall, I just felt numb.

The goal was always to vacate my body and float above it, watching myself spin out until we both lost consciousness.

was good, a rule follower, because I was scared to be anything else.

I couldn’t remember why being good mattered. I

But I didn’t want to be respected. I wanted to be wanted.

But I always took it a little too far. I showed up too excited, too uncomfortable, or too overeager.

I never let myself admit how hurt I was at sixteen, or twenty-four, or twenty-six. I was ashamed of having feelings, so I buried them.

They had a major impact on my eating and drinking in the years that followed: I started restricting again and began drinking heavily to cope with a shame that seemed unmanageable. I closed myself off to other men, scared of letting anyone get too close again.

I smiled for all the pictures, but I felt detached from the happy hours, the book clubs, the birthday dinners.

WE’RE ALL CONVINCED that everyone is watching, judging, and waiting to see what we do next, but the truth is, we’re all in our own worlds. Sure, this line of self-centered thinking has problematic ramifications for collective responsibility and society. But on a small scale, it can be a liberating reminder that people aren’t thinking about your biggest insecurities: they’re likely focused on their own.

I walked around New York City with a video camera asking strangers what love meant to them.

Each time I left a viewing party, I felt tipsy and warm. I dreaded the rest of my work week: I was personally and professionally lost, and New York threatened to swallow me up whole. But getting drunk on wine and possibility on a Monday night helped.

But anyone who has struggled with an addictive personality knows that moderation is a challenge.

yupp

I don’t know if I’m being insane

moderation was a myth. And after a decade of struggling, I was finally ready to admit it.

For years, I determined my self-worth by my measurements. If a smaller size fit me, I was euphoric. On days when I needed to size up, a dark cloud appeared. I was stupid, puffy, a clogged trash chute. I was willing to try anything to live with the smalls, and I did. I starved myself, ran until my knees ached, drank laxative teas, took appetite suppressants,

counted macros and calories, and purged.

She was small, so her life was perfect.

I could starve her in pursuit of smallness, or I could toss the pants.

This excessive behavior mirrored my drinking: once I found something I liked, it was hard to stop.

Outside, I found a text from one of the men I had texted earlier, asking if he could come over. When I said yes, he told me he was already on his way. He had known I was a sure thing.

I desperately wanted to cross over into the land of the free: the smalls, the sobers, anywhere but me.

I drank to feel alive, but I also breathed in men for validation,

Dieting, and then restricting, came naturally to me, like a maternal instinct I was born possessing. Thinking about my appearance all the time was exhausting, and alcohol was the only remedy that helped me tune it all out. I was ashamed of every inch of my body, so I became obsessed with how I could escape and control it.

I struggled with disordered eating once, but now I’m cured. Veganism, intermittent fasting, juicing, food combining, eating clean, high-protein, low-fat. You name it, there is an evangelist dying to tell you about how it fixed her. These

had spent the better part of my

life striving to be anything other than what I was. I drank to escape my body, and now that I was sober, I was still trying to change it.

Whenever I felt angry, hurt, or sad, I focused on my weight instead of digging into the root of my feelings.

before: in my world, wellness had just been a fancy word for diet. Underneath the gloss of new products and promises, all I had ever wanted was to be small, and look like all the other girls.

but it didn’t provide the deep sense of satisfaction I found at work. I finally felt like I had found my place, and I didn’t ever want to go back.

I realized that my obsession with work had been another form of escape, like my drinking.

Getting along with coworkers is one thing; attaching your self-worth to your company and bosses is trickier. I learned this lesson the hard way.

The opposite of loneliness, I wish I could tell Marina now, is finding people with whom you can be your most authentic self. I didn’t end up finding them at work, but I did meet them eventually. It just took me a little bit longer to believe I deserved them.

spent that fall semester getting too drunk at parties and kissing boys I convinced myself I cared about, hoping I would eventually forget the one who still had my heart.

In my twenties, dating in New York City was a lot like climbing that building in a blackout. I could never quite remember where I was going, who I was with, or how I had gotten there.

but the truth is far less feminist: most of the times I drank, I did it for boys. For attention, for the male gaze, for affection, for love. I drank because it turned me into the kind of girl guys wanted.

Adam quickly went from a stranger to someone I could really care about, and that was terrifying.

but I also wanted to ruin things before they could ruin me.

lol story of my life

it. I had no problem spending my money on alcohol, but clothes and shoes were a different story. I didn’t feel deserving of beautiful possessions.

Holiday noise always sent me running.

Maybe if I had been raised in Paris, maybe if I had been less anxious as a child, maybe, maybe, maybe.

wondered how many other mothers and daughters did the same,

lol my mother knew nothing about me

People pleasing can actually be manipulative, she explained. Because it’s us trying to avoid conflict for ourselves. I could use whatever words I liked, but the truth was clear. Where I claimed to be protective, I was controlling.

I didn’t trust myself, so I honored everyone else’s preferences over my own.

Jesus Christ! he exclaimed. He was deadly serious. He began typing quickly. That isn’t right. We need to get you in here at least twice a week and get down to the bottom of this. A pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend.

oh fuck no