It often starts like this…

“I notice you’re not drinking…” said the woman to my right. 

NYC, 2001, at dinner with one of my favorite clients, a group of Stanford U development execs, during the beginning stages of another project I was about to undertake and produce for them. 

There were six or eight of us around the table at an Italian Restaurant near where I lived in Hell’s Kitchen; I had asked for Pellegrino during the cocktail order and poured the Pellegrino into my wine class before the steward came around with the bottle.  

“…why is that?” she continued. 

Before I could answer, the Director of Development (John Ford) offered with alacrity,

“Kile finished his quota by the time he was 40!”

I laughed, she laughed, we all laughed and I said,“Yep, an overachiever since College!” Enlightened and perhaps a tad chagrined, she dropped the subject. 

Awkward situation averted.

But…what IS the potential awkwardness quotient? 

For the first few months after I Went Sober, I tried to navigate around other people’s expectations and curiosity; thinking it was intrusive (which it is, though…), being a bit ashamed of what I had put myself through, and wanting to avoid making others uncomfortable. I took to ordering cranberry/soda so’s I could circulate at events and such with what looked like a drink in my hand.

I discovered, though, that the story is better shared than hidden or downplayed: that the discomfort of hearing my full story can have a “scared straight” (note: vintage reference😝) to it, with positive and healthy results. 

And, while the question may be personal and “technically” nobody’s bidness, I have found that the benefits and upside of candor are legion; that the open sharing of one’s experience and lessons learned carries with it an inherent spectrum of possibility for those being shared with or to… 

They may have the opportunity to:

• Recognize something in themselves that they may have been or are concerned about,

• See that there is Life After Acknowledgement, 

• See that there is nothing to be ashamed of in being in recovery

• Be a little bit horrified at the real possibilities and ramifications, and perhaps wish to avoid that, 

• Perhaps appreciate the risks to themselves and to others they may be taking by drinking and driving…

• …Or to relationships and work product by drinking, period.

So, when someone asks me why I’m not drinking, I’m pretty up-front about it. 

“…because I nearly killed myself when I ran my car into a Utility Pole with a blood alcohol level of 0.2 (not 0.02, 0.2 - I was an exceptionally accomplished drinker). I totaled the car, nearly totaled my face, broke my knee, and all my internal organs ripped through my diaphragm and collapsed a lung. I was in ICU for 10 days, hospital for another week, on crutches for another two months which included four long days in LA County Jail general population… I’m just lucky I didn’t hurt anyone else…”

I would offer that the concomitant discomfort can be remarkably beneficial to the listener. 

Ergo, I offer that responding to such a question - one that could be seen as rude or intrusive, otherwise - as though it is an invitation to share can, ultimately, have only positive long-term results.

Look at it this way; once the question is asked, the situation is already uncomfortable: responding with candid alacrity can relax the entire room/table. 

It’s also fairly freeing to share so freely.

But this, of course, is just my take on it.

Happy Thanksgiving and Onward!

KO 

For more salacious details, see: https://imho.kileozier.com/?p=680