The “November I Don’t Remember”: how alcohol stole my time

The background: It was Fall 2002, November to be exact. I was sophomore in a rural college town in Southwestern, VA. I was on the lacrosse team and we just wrapped up a good fall ball season where I was happy with my efforts and playing time. I had just been initiated into a sorority after a 6 week pledge period. I was feeeeeeelin myself. Not a freshman, not a pledge, I was a Big Girl and it was awesome. I was on top of the world and had more time on my hands without the daily lacrosse schedule and rigorous sorority pledging timeline.

So what did I do? I drank. I drank a lot. I drank so much that I barely remember the month of November 2002. Sure there are photos (thank goodness this was in the pre-Facebook dark ages) and wild stories but the details of this time are fuzzy at best, non-existent at worst.

I was going out 5 nights a week. I had a gaggle of incredible women, both on the lacrosse team and sorority to party with. If someone was busy, you know, actually studying, there was always someone else to party with. We would start drinking in the shower and while getting ready. We would do shots in our dorm room or off-campus with older teammates / sorority sisters. Then, when we were good and hammered we would actually leave our dorm for parties with the men’s sports teams, fraternities, the all-men college down the road, etc. Maybe go to one of the two bars in town with our fake IDs. I would frequently throw up, wake up in places I didn’t remember and be so hungover that I would have to leave class to puke in a public bathroom.

Oh and did I mention I had just started on my annual course of Wellbutrin for SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). I would take antidepressant meds from October - March to help mitigate SAD…my doctor told me it wold help. When really he should have worked with me to make diet and lifestyle changes, encouraged me to get acupuncture and take healing herbs. Yes, this is part of the reason why I wanted to be a health coach 21 years later. Drinking on any SSRI or depression drugs is a big no-no but my “party girl” persona didn’t care. Even though it has been reported that Wellbutrin can actually lower alcohol tolerance. But I’m the “fun one” so I can’t just not drink.

My depression felt like wearing glasses with Vaseline smeared over them and consuming booze was like adding a dark weighted blanket…double whammy. I was blind and heavy and held down.

Was it dangerous to be drinking while taking an anti-depressant drug? Yup.

Did I care? Nope.

Did it seem “normal” to be partying this much, even to the point of blacking out? Yup?

Did anyone tell me to slow down or chill out? Nope

And so went college. I would make a joke out of this time calling it, “The November I Don’t Remember.” As if blacking out from drinking was some adorable little quirk like snorting while laughing. My college friends who were there with me knew this time very well, they were right there with me getting hungover fast food on Sunday mornings. We laughed about the party, the guys, the foolish decisions.

Fast forward: November 2018 which was a rock bottom moment (and there were several earlier that year) I got so drunk at a friend’s rehearsal dinner (not even the actual wedding) that I could barely make it to the wedding. I was throwing up in the bridal suite while trying to sit for hair and make-up. I took a Klonopin in the morning for anxiety >> adderall right before the wedding to actually make it to the elevator, and stand up next to my friend. I even delivered the Maid of Honor speech.

But I knew this had to stop. I couldn’t live like this, I couldn’t be this person. I found myself in another November fully hating myself for actions that were deemed “fun” by those around me. I want to be clear, it is not “normal”, “fun” or “cool” to drink to excess. Throwing up after a wild night isn’t funny, it’s a cry for help. I needed help, I need to stop drinking.

The first year or two of my sober curious journey I beat myself up for my excessive drinking in 2001 - 2019. Even though I had made the wise and powerful decision to change my relationship to alcohol, I was deeply tormented by the pain of my previous decisions. I was living in the shame spiral…angry and disappointment at myself even though I couldn’t undo that November of 2002 or November of 2018. I couldn’t pour out those drinks of 17+ years but I could get my shit together. I could share my story, in the hopes that it helps someone else.

Sharing this now still makes me uncomfortable. Which is why I need to do it. Because I know that there are other women out there (you might know them, heck you might be one of them) that are looking for confirmation that they aren’t alone. I see you sister, I know the struggle that comes with the dark days, literally and emotionally. Knowing that you can’t go on like this, but also deep fear to make a change. I know it’s scary AF to even consider making a change because you think the people around you won’t understand. I know you have so much high-vibe energy to share but you’re having trouble accessing it from the fog of booze.

So what to do next? Talk about it. Talk about the shameful moments. to bring them to light. As (my queen!) Brene Brown says, “Shame cannot survive being spoken. It cannot tolerate having words wrapped around it. What it craves is secrecy, silence, and judgment. If you stay quiet, you stay in a lot of self-judgment.”

This is why I want to speak out. About how lonely I felt, even surrounded by dozens of friends. How I deeply wanted rest but didn’t think I could ask for it without being perceived as lazy. How I was crying for help and connection while being completely cut off from my higher self. This is me…blowing my shame out of the water. That girl in November 2002, yes, she is a part of me. But now, I can meet her with compassion and say, “I know Shawnie, it was tough. You were using booze as a tool to numb and it worked really well. Now we have different tools, let’s use those instead.” Rather than thinking of her as “some dumb bitch” (language I actually used) I see her as a little sister who needed a hug and some warm tea.

If you are struggling, if you want to make a change, I am here for you. I know you can make a change, because I made the change. Let’s talk about this more, we will not let shame, silence, secrecy and self-judgement hide in the dark. Let’s remember this November and all the Novembers to come with all our senses, full of clarity.