I speak up

I had a tooth pulled earlier this week. For me, trips to the dentist have been fearfully avoided for far too long after years of bulimia. Not something I would recommend to anyone, but it’s my reality. Unfortunately, I live in a country that does not believe in universal health care, so getting in to see a dentist took almost eight months. Fortunately, my insurance does provide free rides to and from medical and dental appointments, which has been a lifesaver since I can’t drive.

A random driver picked me up at 8:30am for my tooth extraction appointment. When he asked how I was doing, I said I was nervous about the procedure without anesthesia. The whole numb and yank thing really freaked me out. To my surprise, the driver looked at me through his rearview mirror and said, “Well, we could stop and get you liquored up before your appointment. I think there’s a liquor store on our way that is open this early. You could be an alchy for the day. We could have you stumbling in there and you wouldn’t feel a thing! Hahahahahaha.”

Needless to say, I found this comment horribly offensive. In that moment, I had two options. I could politely laugh, go along with the joke, and say nothing or I could speak up. For most of my life I have been a passive doormat. Speaking up felt unnatural, but I couldn't contain myself. With a shaky voice, I responded with:

“Respectfully and kindly, sir, it is not appropriate to joke about alcohol or drugs. You have no idea what my history is. The reason I can’t drive is because of alcohol. It took me nearly 10 years to get sober. Alcohol almost killed me. In the future, you should be more careful with your words.”

The driver looked at me with wide eyes through his rearview mirror and apologized. He was silent the rest of the drive. At first I felt worried that I offended him. But after I got out of the car, I felt nothing but pride, empowered even.

Somewhere along the way, I was taught that church basements are the only acceptable place to speak of my history with addiction. And yet, we live in a world that is obsessed with mindlessly poking fun at people like me. “Alchys” or alcoholics are the butt of people’s jokes. Am I really expected to silently heal while the rest of society mocks my experience?

In 2020 alone, alcohol killed 385 Americans every day. This is not a joking matter. For many people this is life or death. Learning to speak up against the normalization of alcohol might make other people uncomfortable, but for me, it is the only way forward. I’m sure my driver didn’t mean any harm, but I have learned that I no longer need to passively go along with bullshit societal norms.

Progress.