Si saben como me pongo, pa que me invitan? is a phrase I repeated countless times between 2016-2018. The whole “blame it on the alcohol” vibe was not just a song, but my life motto.
The crazy thing is, my addiction to alcohol came super late in life. I didn’t have the cliche “alcoholic background story” people assume. There was no dramatic divorce or job loss. There was no DUI or run-in with the law. There were no sneaking beers in high school. There wasn’t a wild party phase in college. In fact, I was pretty straight edge for most of my life; I was a daddy’s girl who loved Disneyland and eating Chipotle. I watched Phineas and Ferb with my little cousins and let them color in my tattoos with markers. I graduated as a president scholar with magna cum laude honors, sorority sister, college radio host, RA, top 55 student leader, and my personal favorite, homecoming princess. Nothing about me screamed “alcoholic”. In fact, the first time I got drunk was actually an accident after having two glasses of wine for dinner. That was February 2016, three months away from graduation. It quickly went downhill after that.
Whenever people hear substance use disorder (SUD), their minds go to hard drugs like heroin or meth. Things like weed, molly, and alcohol tend to be out of the conversations because society has normalized the use of them in certain atmospheres, like tailgates or concerts. For some people, these things are not issues and they can live normal lives. But for people who struggle with SUD like me, this is a real problem. I never was able to just drink a beer. I couldn’t order a glass of wine while eating at Olive Garden. I couldn’t let loose at a party with just one or two shots. There never was a “just drink to have fun” kind of night; it was always “drink until you can’t remember”. The pressures of being young and trying to live up to the whole YOLO energy was tough. But being Latina made it even more difficult. Our culture is filled with alcohol and drug affiliations. Whether it’s the negative portrayals on TV or the newest Farruko song on the radio, we are constantly surrounded by these images. I mean, there’s a WHOLE LOTERÍA CARD dedicated to a drunk dude! Now, don’t get me wrong, Pepas has been my summer jam since it dropped. And I sing “QUE CANTAMOS BIEN BORRACHOS LOS DOS” with my whole soul whenever La Canción is being played. I also brag about how Flor de Caña is Nicaraguan and best believe if J Balvin created a bottle of something, I would buy it.
But I could never drink it. I can never sip some Flor de Caña or celebrate a friend’s birthday with tequila. I can’t have a glass of wine at my cousin’s quinceañera or even a mimosa at brunch with my girls. And it’s sad to say but not having some of these experiences sometimes made me feel less Latina. I mean if we are being completely honest, up until recently I didn’t even know how to say “I’m sober” in Spanish. I would just say “no tomó” (shout out to Maluma for the vocab lesson!) Sometimes it feels like I’m not authentic or a “real” Latina because I can’t hang with my primos anymore. As if drinking and keeping up with them is what gave me my “brown card” in the first place. Our culture is so riddled with alcohol that it’s difficult to notice these trends when you’re inside the circle with a bottle of Corona. On the outside, however, it’s not only noticeable, but quiet and solitary.
It’s lonely feeling like you are the only sober person in your family. It’s even lonelier when they don’t understand why you’re sober in the first place. Seeing as I was not the stereotypical toxica, my family didn’t think it was a big deal for me to have a drink. I love my family. I love my friends. But sobriety circles are important and that’s where the Phoenix comes in. Meeting new people who have a common goal of having fun while staying sober has been so healthy for me and for so many others. For the one hour that we are gathered together, we are focused on something other than our previous lives. We are running, meditating, CrossFit-ting, or even barbecuing. We are laughing from the jokes and crying from the sweat of our hard work. The best part about all of our events is that they are FREE! The only membership fee is 48 hours of sobriety. This accessibility allows our members to feel included and supported, even if they don’t have the means for it. Becoming part of a sober community gave me the feeling of support that I was missing in my other social circles. It gave me a space to voice how I feel. It also gave me the confidence to be authentically myself sans botella de guaro. Being Latina is the identity I am most proud of, and I’ll be damned if I let a bottle of tequila or some Dos XX make me feel any less.
This December I will be celebrating 3 years of being alcohol free. It’s been a wild journey, but one that I am forever grateful for. I invite anyone who struggles with SUD (or knows someone that does) to join our Phoenix familia. Whether it’s paint night or bowling, we have something for you to feel right at home. Asking for help is a beautiful first step in recovery, and it doesn’t make you any less of a person or a Latinx if you seek it. Remember my fave phrase si saben como me pongo, pa que me invitan? I am happy to say that I’ve retired. Now, I’m glad to say, si saben como me puse antes, gracias por la oportunidad de estar aqui hoy.
Keithy Orellana is a Program Coordinator at The Phoenix in Los Angeles, CA. In celebration of Latinx Heritage Month, The Phoenix is hosting various sober events across Los Angeles: