Words by:
Anonymous
If I was ever really hungover, curled round the toilet bowl in shame the next day, I’d swear to myself ‘never again’. But inevitably, within a week or so, there’d be another social occasion, and I’d find a glass of wine or a cold beer in my hand. Alcohol was just a normal part of life. Not really something I was prepared to look at – until ayahuasca made me see my relationship with it very differently.
My first moment of clarity about alcohol came from watching someone dancing in ceremony. I watched this woman move so beautifully, so joyfully; singing and smiling with such abandon. It suddenly struck me: she absolutely loves herself (which wasn't the insult it sounds like.) In that moment, I realised what it meant to genuinely love yourself. I saw that this woman loved herself so much, she was giving herself the gift of dance and song. It was like a love language to herself.
When did I last dance? Really dance? I couldn’t remember. (Not my usual self-conscious side-to-side shuffle.) When was the last time I sang out loud? Maybe alone in the car, driving down the motorway, with no fear of anyone even seeing me let alone hearing me. I realised I hadn’t been allowing myself some of the most basic, natural and joyful aspects of our human experience.
To sing. To dance. To be in our bodies. To appreciate this unique gift of being human. I’d been depriving myself of some of the purest joys of life. It was a profoundly moving message. I saw the world differently, and my place in it, and began to see how I’d been treating myself: terribly. Not just depriving myself of love and joy – but harming and punishing myself with alcohol. It masquerades as ‘joy’ but is actually a very poor substitute.
The madre gently brought me to think about my liver. I visualised the act of downing alcohol, week after week, year after year. I saw how I was drenching it with poison, drying it up, making it repair itself, over and over again. I cried, and said sorry for all the years I’d been taking it for granted. Had it really been 30 years of drinking?? Why had I done this to myself?
I got into drinking for the same reason most people do: to fit in. It was 1991 and I was 13 years old, in a new school, in a new country and a total outsider. When I drank, I became an insider. I made people laugh and I belonged. I liked this version of myself. But as I got older, my reasons for drinking started to change. I started using it as an escape; a way to avoid the pain of what seemed like one family tragedy after another: death, illness, disease, on repeat.
Drinking gave me a few precious hours where I didn’t have to think about any of it, and it was always on the menu – in social situations, family gatherings, after work, everywhere. Not just socially acceptable – it was socially unacceptable not to drink. And yet, at some point, drinking had begun to feel more like a coping mechanism than fun for me:
I’m not good enough, may as well have a drink.
I’ll never succeed, have a drink.
I don’t deserve happiness, have a drink… and another and another.
I wasn’t consciously self-medicating or self-harming. I often felt low and I saw alcohol as a much-needed lift. It was also just a natural accompaniment to all the ‘nice things’ in life. Sun's shining? Have a beer. Fancy dinner out? Get some wine. Yet, although alcohol may feel like a warm, inviting embrace in the moment, it slaps you on the face the next day with tiredness, headaches, nausea, and heightened anxiety levels. And so the cycle continues.
I knew alcohol wasn't helpful, but ayahuasca made me feel how truly harmful it is. She made me pay attention to what I was actually doing to my body and why. Alcohol was poison and I’d been choosing to poison myself, mainly due to survivor’s guilt. She showed me how misguided this was; that I was beautiful, kind and strong. My family’s illnesses weren’t my fault and my body deserved to be taken care of.
I came out of the ceremony with so much love and respect for my body, and so much love for myself that I was determined to never drink again. But although ayahuasca gave me the gift of awareness, I wasn’t one of the ‘lucky ones’ who overcame their vices in one ceremony. It hasn’t been a magic bullet. Instead, my process has been more like a dance. A few steps forward, a few steps backward, gradually moving in the right direction.
I still drink but I’m more conscious. When I feel the urge for alcohol, I’ll check in with myself: am I really drinking this for enjoyment? If it’s coming from a place of sadness, or any other uncomfortable emotions that I want to avoid, I’ll try to resist. I might go for a run, do yoga or listen to a podcast instead. I know there are much better tools to cope with my emotions, but sometimes, I do still reach for a drink.
This might not sound like a big transformation, but the change in awareness has been a massive shift for me. Before ayahuasca, I was completely oblivious that I was anaesthetising my feelings of pain and sadness with alcohol. Now I’m aware of that pain, I’m trying to deal with those feelings in a more constructive way. It’s a journey and I’m on the path, even if it’s going to take me a while to arrive at the destination.
