HOW TO STOP SUCCUMBING TO SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS OF WHO YOU SHOULD BE

Drink, drink, drink! From the workplace to hanging out with friends, it’s so easy to succumb to the pressure to drink.

So I don’t enjoy drinking alcohol.

Some people might be like,

“Seriously? And you’re a mom? How do you do that?”

I hate the taste of alcohol. It’s extremely bitter and I feel like I’m doing the cough syrup gag every time.

I look like a cherry tomato about to burst in pictures (Thanks to my Asian genes).

So no, it’s not because of health reasons, or that it’s expensive or that I’m trying to be a Saint to my kid

I remember watching all these movies where a shy girl goes to a bar, gets drunk enough to muster up the courage to talk to the man of her dreams and thru a series of frustrating ups and downs (struggling to show her true self) end up together.

Or what about a brooding male character after a tough day at work goes to the bar alone, does a bunch of shots and confesses his deepest secrets to the bartender.

Or movies where a guy and a girl stay up drinking till the sun rises, fall in love because their walls are down and they get super raw and vulnerable?

So when I first started drinking, I thought alcohol was the catalyst in removing our inhibitions so that it was socially acceptable to talk about our feelings, hopes, fears and deepest, darkest desires.

Sweet Liquid Courage

I thought alcohol gave us a “free pass” to do whatever we wanted.

My drinking journey began with a fair share of painfully sweet alcoholic drinks to cover up the taste.

It included weekends of wobbly barefoot walking with stilettos in hand, throwing up in a trash can outside a Vegas club, getting kicked out of a shady pub and painful hangovers with morning barf breath.

Phony Drinker

After the early binge drinking years, I transitioned to a phase where I would drink to enhance the taste of my meals (you know, like a real grown-up). But that made me even more of a phony.

The waiter would pour a little bit of this expensive wine in my glass and I would taste it for the “different” notes.

I would smile and nod while I spat it back out into the fancy spit bucket.

The bitterness would linger in my mouth while I struggled to maintain a straight face in front of everyone at the dinner table while the waiter watched in anticipation of my reaction.

At the end of meals, I would have to chug my glass of wine because I had avoided it all evening (plus I paid good money for that shit and I wasn’t going to waste it).

That lasted a couple of years before I just said,

“Fuck it, I’m done!”

I got to a point where I could talk openly about my deepest darkest desires, be vulnerable and let people know what my insecurities are.

I became empowered to choose to live the life that I wanted.

Let’s own who we are. Be ourselves and not succumb to social expectations.

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