Well, not really, but it sure feels like it some days as we go 4 or 5 deep in search of relief from the grind of being essential, not essential or somewhere in between. The jokes about rising alcoholism have a dark undercurrent of truth and I'll be the first one to admit my tweets and other social media postings are part meant to poke fun at myself and part a glimpse into a world gone mad with social distance. While not a super social person to begin with, the sense that I can do nothing except go to work and come home leaves me feeling stressed on top of the other stresses of dealing with the general public and working in a restaurant kitchen where you are often elbow to elbow with your co-workers. You begin to feel like a machine, a cog that turns round awaiting the next crank of the wheel taking you back into the world, suspicious of anyone who walks through the door, at times grateful to be working and other times terrified of having to do so. We have no training or previous time to refer back on to help give us a sense of what to do or what will come next and the longer this goes on, the more cracks begin to appear in our supposed united front. And these cracks are not just between people who think we've been too harsh and others who know this must continue for much longer than we realise. The divisions come from within and that is where I struggle the most.
At the very best of times, I turn to a pint or two after work for a little liquid relaxation, most often sticking to that the majority of my time. Sure I have a beer every day, but it is usually just the one...until it isn't. Sliding into near alcoholism has long been a personal demon I felt like I kept at bay because I always felt that I did my job, provided for my family and didn't devolve every day into a mess of booze. Truth be told, without kids, I guess my responsibilities kind of end when my shift does because I literally do what I want after that. I long ago left guilt or feelings that I must do this or that family or societal function behind, secure that my personal space was all I needed or wanted. The pressure to do things was less and less as time went on and we established a fairly routine life that was a perfect fit for who we are. A little heavy on the beer from time to time, but for the most part in control.
Then Jinx died, the pandemic hit and the whole flimsy façade came crashing down in a very real way. Turning to that buzz, the numbing of the world and the forgetting everything became easier with every passing day. Coming home to a pint or two before dinner, 5 or 6 more after and repeating for days on end became the new norm, easy to feel nothing than deal with what felt like everything. The incredible ease with which beer could be delivered to my house certainly has changed the game, picking up a 24 of an IPA just to drink was something I hadn't done in years and that kind of abundance allows me to indulge my whims whenever I desire. Good or bad, beer delivers me from the day behind and prevents the worry of the day ahead to cloud right damn now. It isn't something I am comfortable with to be sure, but it is real and I am most likely not alone in an increased consumption. I see it, I feel it in every post my online friends make, the need for connection feeding the need for more and more release. We are a social bunch, this pandemic has driven us to seclude in our homes and that is felt most in our mental health while we struggle to wrap our heads around the months ahead.
This feels disjointed, I usually write from a spark and go from there, revisions minimal and editing almost never. I have no energy for creating anything most for the time, finding my mind has little patience for a vision further than my next pint. While I can pop off a video and a few beer reviews a day, I feel the pandemic slips in more and more and have no problem addressing how I am feeling while still talking about what I'm drinking. It is a weird place to be now, trying to be responsible while also not completely falling apart every single day. I will be the first person to tell you and truthfully admit without hesitation that I desire that feeling 2 or 3 beers gives me every day. I wonder if tomorrow I might wake up with a fever, cough or worse not wake up at all, the stress cannot be good for anyone, let alone a dude pushing way over his ideal weight heading into the back half (third?) of life. Every ache and pain of the day behind me ricochets into a near panic and those pints help calm that beast, every time.
When I wake up every morning, I look myself in the mirror and say today we will just have one pint when we get home. I even believe myself and head out into the world with hope that it will be a good shift ahead of me. I go forward with an eye to safety and making sure we do all the right things, but with so much unknown, so many things changing daily, it can feel overwhelming and by the time I step back in the door at home, 1 turns to 3 and off we go. Rarely falling down drunk, but seeking a balance to the uneasy feeling that climbs all day long, I wish I could say it will end anytime soon. I am trying to express how I feel and not just drink those feelings away, being mindful that it impacts the people around me, even if they aren't physically here. I try to be more aware, but I am so easily led astray by my own weakness for comfort, seeking any kind of break from the world around me.
I don't really know what's next, I don't know that this exercise does much good for anyone or even myself. What I do know is that we are not alone in experiencing these feelings of living through history, aware that this will not be over soon and that collectively we will change in some way after we come though the other side of pandemic unlike anything we've ever seen. I might be a drunk, but at least I'm at home.
Stay safe, try to keep it together as best you can and maybe we can go for a walk before we crack that first beer of the day...it will do us all some good.
Polk
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