Boozing or Losing Yourself? The Masking Ways of Alcohol
When I first heard the phrase, “Drink up—it’s liquid confidence,” I was young and just beginning to experiment with alcohol. At the time, I fully agreed with the sentiment. I couldn’t wait to have a drink, believing it would transform me into a more comfortable, outgoing social butterfly.
Looking back on those formative years, I realize a significant part of my anticipation for adulthood revolved around the idea of drinking. Alcohol seemed to symbolize fun and connection. Adults appeared happier, more relaxed, and often silly. Little did I know then that this fleeting jolliness came with a cost—a cost I’ve personally experienced and that I believe many others can relate to—both physically, emotionally, and mentally.
Alcohol can be a triggering subject, and I approach it with a sense of neutrality. After all, it’s deeply ingrained in our society, and I genuinely enjoyed it (or at least thought I did) when I used to drink. So, who am I to judge? Yet, as we welcome 2025 and I reflect on past New Year’s celebrations, I find myself reminiscing about the act of drinking. At times, I even miss it. Then I think about the aftermath: the anxieties I masked with alcohol only to have them creep back the next day. I remember lying in bed, physically drained, my mind racing with intrusive thoughts: “Did I really say that? Did I make a fool of myself? What did I do wrong? That wasn’t the real me! I’d never act that way sober.”
Alcohol blurred my judgment, leading me into situations I later regretted. I often found myself involved with narcissistic partners who didn’t have my best interests at heart. I cried myself to sleep more times than I can count, realizing I was in the wrong places, with the wrong people, and ultimately out of sync with myself. I didn’t just feel like I didn’t belong with the people I was drinking with; I didn’t feel like I belonged in the act of drinking itself.
So, what’s my point?
Initially, I wanted this blog to focus on why alcohol is unhealthy and its historical roots as a tool for societal control and exploitation. But as I write, I realize the more pressing issue today is the way many of us use alcohol as a crutch or coping mechanism. This practice is often referred to as “masking.” While the term “masking” is commonly associated with autism, the concept applies more broadly. We use alcohol to appear more social, to let loose, or to feel more connected. But what’s really happening to us when we drink? Why do we feel we can’t embody those qualities without it? And why does alcohol seem to make us kinder or more approachable?
Writing this has given me clarity about my own relationship with alcohol. It was never about the drink itself; it was about filling a void. I used to believe alcohol helped me navigate hardships or become more lively. But in truth, that responsibility lies within me. If I feel uncomfortable or out of place without alcohol, it’s a sign to take a hard look at myself and my environment. Am I with the right people? Am I in the right place?
Finding people who make you feel seen takes time. Learning to see and love yourself takes even more time. But perhaps, just perhaps, it’s worth exploring what life could be like without alcohol. For me, it’s been a journey toward self-awareness, acceptance, and the realization that the confidence and connection I once sought in a drink were within me all along.
