My fake drunk hangover
At the age of 11, I got fake drunk. Just know that the regret you feel when you’re drunk, apply to being fake drunk as well. I did it thinking it would light a fire under my mother to put forth more effort to get my father to return home, because I didn’t think she was working hard enough. It was a foolish and selfish idea, looking back at it now, but it was the best I could come up with.
Not having my father around was starting to take a toll on me. I didn’t handle my parents’ separation very well. To some extent, it still bothers me to this day. It definitely affects how I view relationships. I had a woman tell me that I should look for a new therapist because me getting over my parents’ break-up was taking longer than it should. I didn’t even know a proper response to that comment that didn’t include me wanting to toss her out of a thirty-story building. Not only did I take her comment as though she was saying my therapist must be some bargain basement bitch I purchased off of Groupon, but also that I was slow because I wasn’t over it yet. It was a double insult.
I’m not even a big drinker. I went through a phase where I would have a drink every night when I hit the stage. It wasn't so I could kill the nerves. I don’t get nervous. I did it so I could have something to focus on because I didn't want to look at the crowd.
Now whiskey is my go-to drink. I have my favorites. I like to sip on Basil Hayden or Bulleit Bourbon. My new favorite is Angel’s Envy Rye. It took me a while to figure it out how to drink. I’ve tried practically every drink there is, but whiskey is my favorite. The only other thing I’ll drink is scotch, and I have to sip that. Scotch is aggressive. My least favorite of them all is vodka. I’m not a fan of it at all. Vodka wants to be accepted too much by everyone, in terms of mixtures. I don’t want to drink something that will mix with anything. That doesn’t seem like something I want to put in my body. I had promised myself I wouldn’t drink after seeing what too much alcohol did to family members at social gatherings. There are only so many times your aunt’s drinking persona can show up before you overhear someone say, “One of us should have a talk with her.” I also vowed I wouldn’t do drugs of any kind after my mother’s favorite brother died from AIDS. My uncle contracted AIDS after sharing drug needles. His death hit my mother pretty hard, and it made her proud that I didn’t have any interest in doing drugs. I made it a point to wear that proudness my mother had towards me openly and with honor.
However, one summer evening, in a house full of cousins who were staying with our family for the summer, I became desperate for attention and decided to drink an entire 16-ounce can of beer to motivate my mother to pull off whatever trick she had to pull off in order to get my father to come home. You know that I really wanted my father to come home because I hate the taste of beer with a passion. I would rather have my eyelids propped open with DVD cases of Tyler Perry movies while being forced to watch Tyler Perry’s Boo in IMAX. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.
I took one of my mother’s beers, which she hid in the back of the refrigerator where no one would see it, and poured 90% of it into a glass. I made sure not to finish what was left in the can until I was sure someone would catch me drinking it. When I heard the footsteps of one of my cousins coming down the hallway, I went into full thespian mode. I upended the beer can so I could sell the idea that I had reached my goal of getting drunk. I held the can in such a way that would allow my cousin to be able to smack it from my hand without hurting me. It just so happened to work in my favor that the loudest cousin in the house caught me drinking. As she was yelling for my mother, my cousin was practically selling me being drunk before my mother was able to decide for herself.
I wasn't exactly sure how a drunk person behaved. Everything I thought a drunk person did, I learned from watching television or from family members who had alter egos when they got drunk. My mother came in the room, put one hand on each of my shoulders, and began to shout my name at me, as if going deaf was one of the symptoms of intoxication. I even slurred my response to sell my drunkenness. It wasn’t much different from how I acted when my mother woke me up to get ready for school.
My mother was furious. All I remember is her yelling at life for things being so bad that her oldest son was drunk at eleven. By this time my mother probably could have used a drink or twenty.
Eventually, my mom figured out that my behavior was in response to me missing my father. I was happy she was able to figure it out without me having to say anything. I wasn’t sure how long I could have stayed in character. This was my first time getting fake drunk. My mother cared for me the way she would whenever I would get injured or come down with a cold. She lay in my bed with me as I laid my head on her lap, and we watched TV together. Every so often, my cousins poked their heads into the room to see how I was doing. I didn’t feel like talking or taking away from the time I was spending with my mother to answer their questions. I began to cry after a while at the thought of what I had done to get attention from someone who wasn’t even seeing the show I was putting on for him. I was tired of doing things that I thought would get my father to come back home. I was tired of not having the safety I’d had when my parents were together. I wanted the pain of all of that to go away.
My mom had apparently become fed up with having to watch me constantly do things to hurt myself in order to get my father’s attention. She got out of bed and said to my cousins, “Watch him. I’m going to go talk to his father. This is enough.”
Hearing my mother say that she was going to go talk to my father was all I wanted. At the time, I didn't realize how much pressure I was putting on my mother to pull off miracles. I wish I could go back and release her of that burden. My father never came home, but I also never pretended to get drunk again to force him to return, either. My fake hangover bothered me much longer than any actual hangover I have ever experienced.
Now, I will occasionally drink to wind down, but I haven’t been drunk in years. It wasn’t until I was 28 that I actually got drunk for the first time. My mother didn’t learn I drank until I was 32 years old. I was no longer invested in keeping up with the charade that I was drug-free. My mother hadn’t seen me with alcohol in my hands since I was 11. I suppose I allowed her to see me drink once again so that she’d know that something was going on in my life that was pushing me to drink again. I only drink to numb the pain now. Writing helps to release the pain, so I write more.
P.S.
From a business perspective, I respect Tyler Perry, but nothing he creates speaks to the artist in me. Now my mother can’t understand how I’m able to separate one from the other. I don’t know how to explain that real art doesn’t make money right away, if at all. I do know one thing, if my mother suggest I reach out to Tyler Perry one more time so we can work together as if it’s so easy to do, I’m going get drunk on purpose.
P.S.S
They don’t make anything to help you get over a fake hangover.
-EAT
I write as a form of healing for myself and others. If you enjoyed what you read, “tip the writer” by donating to Venmo or zelle @maronziovance or Cashapp $Gift2MaronzioVance