Maya Angelou once said: “When someone shows themselves to you, believe them from the beginning.” These words are often quoted to avoid unhealthy relationships and encourage you to believe the warning signs. But as I reflected on my own journey, I realized that this wisdom applies not only to humans, but also to alcohol.
For years, alcohol taught me what it was all about. It was a deceptive friend who promised connection and fun, but too often brought regret.
Growing up in Australia, where drinking felt like a national pastime, I learned early on that alcohol was woven into the fabric of our lives. From barbecues to birthdays, Friday after-parties to long weekends, alcohol wasn’t just a drink, it was a social glue. Like many Australians, I started drinking at a young age. By age 15, I started drinking regularly. What started as a rite of passage, alcohol quickly became a constant companion throughout my late teens and 20s.
My childhood memories are filled with images of adults relaxing over drinks. The clink of glasses signaled the beginning of the “real” fun. My parents became funnier and more relaxed after a few glasses of wine, and the message was clear. Alcohol was supposed to make life lighter, brighter, more vibrant.
But behind that carefree exterior was a moment of regret, a morning I wished I could forget. Gaps in memory that should have made me question my habits. But like many of us who grew up in this culture, I thought my relationship with alcohol was normal. We all drank like this. I never thought about quitting.
In my 20s, my corporate job involved traveling and attending big events and conferences. Drinking wasn’t just OK. That was encouraging. Turning down a drink was never an option. Drinking was part of the job and I certainly didn’t resist.
