Shotgun Jess Retires

Trigger Warning (TW): 

Discussion About Alcohol & Disordered Eating

Alcohol was a big part of my identity for a good 16+ years of my life. Through most of junior high and high school I was “Straight Edge”, with a t-shirt stating it boldly to the WORLD in Coca-Cola Style Print. I thought it was ironic because I have diabetes and didn’t drink Regular Coke (GASP), so teenie bopper Jess thought it was SO funny.

Before: Straight Edge Jess

But towards the end of junior year, into senior year I started to think “I should at least TRY before I decide” And so, my alter ego “Shotgun Jess” was born. In the beginning, Shotgun Jess was the cool, new grown up Jess. She was ready to party and dance the night away. It melted away my insecurities, of which there were many, allowing me to finally throw caution to the wind. But without at least some caution, there were most definitely consequences, most of which was throwing up and/or making a fool of myself. While attending undergrad at Penn State, I was very proud of my ability to shotgun Miller Lites like the guys. Alcohol was like this magic potion, making me into what I THOUGHT was a more fun, easy going Jess.

During: SHOTGUN JESS

Over time, large social events led to tears and vomit in less than ideal places. I’ve thrown up in an Uber on the way to iHop after being out on the town celebrating my cousin’s pending nuptials. I was so anxious on my own wedding night I barely ate and ended up in our honeymoon suite bathtub still in my dress. For some reason when I would drink too much and become overwhelmed in a social situation, I would seek refuge in the tub. Don’t ask me why. Something about it was comforting. Cool. Calm. Quiet. 

For a long time I would joke and make light of these situations to hide my guilt and shame. Better to make fun of myself than to be the butt of the joke. Most of my 20s were a blur of nights out and house parties. Beer Olympics at the Track House. Kegs & Eggs tailgating before football games. Looking back, I was trying really hard to prove something. What? I’m not so sure. All I knew is I would go from overwhelmed and anxious to the life of the party in no time. Just a couple beers or glasses of wine and SHOTGUN JESS was ready to go. Yeeeee Hawwww. 

Alcohol also conspired against me with my eating disorder, fully taking over my brain and rational thought. I have not so fond memories of using the Elliptical for hours just to “burn” the calories I was planning to consume in wine that evening (I based it on drinking the whole bottle). I would skip meals or skimp on my low treatments so I had “enough” calories for my glass of wine at the end of the day. Even when I was restricting myself to 1200 calories, I would find a way to work alcohol calories into the equation. On top of diabetes, my drinking and eating disorder had me calculating every little moment of my life. 

When the pandemic hit, I was just starting to feel like myself again after a long struggle with postpartum depression and anxiety. I had weaned myself off of Prozac to get pregnant with my daughter and unfortunately I did not handle it well. Coping with a High Risk pregnancy left me exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. On top of it all, I lost one of my favorite coping mechanisms: Alcohol. What should have been a beautiful time was contorted by my body dysmorphia freaking the ever loving shit as my body expanded. I felt so exposed. Raw. Alone. How could a woman blessed with getting pregnant so quickly struggle with her pregnancy?

Once my daughter was born, I was excited for my first drink: to get my “fun juice” back. Pregnancy Jess was NOT fun. She had been a tired, hormonal mess. New Mom Jess wanted to be fun and relaxed. But deep down, I just didn’t want to feel my feelings. If I did, I felt like I would burst into flames, succumbing to the vile, toxic thoughts I was having about myself. Being a new mom also put me in survival mode. My only priority was taking care of Lucy. All other thoughts were just a swirling mess in my mind, which quieted down once I took my first sip. Looking back, I should have been focused on healing my body, which had just gone through a rough pregnancy, labor and delivery. I had been to hell and back and knew my old friend Alcohol would be there to welcome me back with open arms. The warm numbing feeling encircling me and suppressing the dark thoughts of a new, anxious mom. 

Cue 2020 and with it COVID-19 showing up, ready to fuck with my brain even more. By this point I was really in the trenches with my eating disorder, not actively engaging in it but HATING my postpartum body with every fiber of my being. In the past when I would get to the point of utter disgust and despair, I would start restricting my calories and exercising furiously, but by this point I knew it wouldn’t work. It would always lead to me going down a rabbit hole with my binge eating. The deprivation was too much and my metabolism was shot, most likely from my previous decade or so of dieting. So what was left to fight back against the dark thoughts? Alcohol. I sought comfort and release after long days of surviving out in the seemingly dangerous world at the bottom of the bottle. I never thought it was problematic, since it was “just a few glasses of wine before bed” or “beers to relax on the weekend”. But then rock bottom found me in August of 2020. 

I was traveling to the beach for the wedding of two of the most important people in my life. I was feeling so uncomfortable in my skin, struggling to find a dress to wear and dreading the thought of being in pictures. While ruminating on all of this, we hit delay after delay driving down. Cars disabled on bridges. Torrential downpours. Getting the low tire pressure warning light in the downpour. All while dealing with a fussy toddler. A drive that was supposed to take 7 hours lasted almost 13. When we finally made it, after listening to Baby Shark on repeat for what seemed like eternity, I was ready to escape the confines of the car to unwind. But alas, I had to socialize with those attending the wedding the next day. There weren't many people, as the wedding was only immediate family and two close friends of the bride and groom, but any socializing after the day I just had was overwhelming. 

I drank whatever I could get my hands on until “Shotgun Jess” came out. The Jess I thought I NEEDED to be for people to like and accept my socially awkward ass. New people weren’t allowed to see the REAL me, especially not this early on. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, until I excused myself to bed. After trying everything I could think of to help keep myself calm, I could feel the spins coming on. I jumped out of bed in an attempt to make it to the bathroom, but only made it to the hallway before the contents of my stomach revolted. Right near the room my daughter was sleeping in. 

I was Mortified. Horrified. Ashamed. I sprang into action, trying to clean my sins out of the carpet with everything I could get my hands on. No matter what I did, the smell lingered. An ominous reminder of what I had done. That was the lowest of lows. I didn’t get to fully enjoy my week away at the beach or the wedding. Towards the end of the week I began to feel better physically, but I was still torn. Did I have a drinking problem? Should I stop drinking altogether? Was I an alcoholic? Even working at a Rehab and having a wealth of information at my fingertips, I still wavered from August up until the end of March when I decided I needed a jumping off point. Something to make the task less daunting. 

By then I had started my Blog and was really working on myself. It sounds cliche I know, but that shit show in August really made me start to reevaluate EVERY part of my life. The people I shared my energy with. The work I did. The habits I had and didn’t have. Slowly, I started chipping away at things that no longer served me. At times I felt selfish focusing on myself so much, but how else would I have been able to make the changes I needed to become a better person for myself and everyone in my life. I didn’t want my daughter to have memories of me hungover, too tired to play with her on the weekends. I didn’t want to be too irritable the next day to joke around with my husband. I didn’t want to be THAT Jess anymore. 

Thus began my Alcohol Free April Challenge. A few days before April 1st was when I stopped drinking. I never had a “last drink” because I told myself I was choosing this. It wasn’t a punishment and I could choose to stop at any time. And I haven’t had a drink since. It’s the longest I have gone, other than when I was pregnant. Having the choice seems to have really helped me. It wasn’t something forced onto me from someone else. I do still have cravings for alcohol. After a long day of work, when I am emotionally drained, I can feel myself yearning for that glass of wine. But that craving further solidifies that I shouldn’t drink. The cravings show me there is something going on I need to address like stress or self-doubt. Drinking just masks those issues, and they are ready and waiting to bombard you once the alcohol haze subsides.

I must confess that in moments I typically would drink, I have found things like Non-Alcoholic Beer helpful. They’re not for everyone, but the ritual of having something to sip on at a party has been comforting. In a way, they have shown me that the magical properties I attributed to alcohol (increased confidence, social prowess, etc.) were within me the whole time. I didn’t need alcohol to summon these virtues, I just needed to believe in myself. Do I still have Social Anxiety? Yes. But I am learning how to manage it, instead of masking it. 

And so, with this post I would like to officially announce Shotgun Jess’ Retirement. While she was what I felt I needed to get through college and my twenties, as I travel further into my 30’s and beyond, she no longer serves me. I’m ready to take life on Alcohol Free. If my story resonates with you, perhaps take some time to reflect on the role alcohol plays in your life. Not everyone needs to abstain, but as the worst of the pandemic fades away, many are left with the coping mechanisms they leaned on to get through, with alcohol being a major one. As always, I’m here to offer my support and encouragement. 

  After: 110 Days Alcohol-Free Selfie 💜