CHRONIC disease and injury caused by alcohol causes 15 deaths and 430 hospitalisations each day in Australia.
This alone should give us pause for thought about our much celebrated drinking culture. But apparently it’s not.
I remember very clearly a night many, many years ago when I went to meet a friend for dinner. I had just come out of a clinic where I had been dealing with a certain fondness for barbiturates. An over anxious personality coupled with a very rocky adolescence and some deep seated “issues†had led me to rely on the oblivion that only swallowing a pill (or two) could provide. But now I was drug free and out in the real world using the coping skills that therapy had provided.
The waiter came over and asked if I would like a glass of wine while I was waiting for my friend to arrive. It struck me how easy that seemed. No doctor shopping, no sneaking, no begging the doctor to see how badly you needed a repeat of that script — you could just order wine in full view of everybody and maybe you could even get some of the effects the valium had delivered. Clearly while I was drug free I wasn’t quite cured of my desire to escape.
But I have never been a drinker, not even after that night. Sure I sometimes have a glass of wine or a cocktail if I go out for dinner, but not every time. If I cared to count the numbers of drinks I consume in a year I don’t think I would need to take off my shoes to use my toes.
Even though my husband drinks a “normal†amount — a whiskey after a bad day at work, a beer or two with his mates and the very common social drink, it still amazes me that this kind of drinking is accepted as such a normal part of life.
Imagine I just got to pop a pill every time I came home from work, or went out, or wanted to relax or de-stress. Imagine I popped an extra one to celebrate or even to commiserate.
Even though I would be far more sedate (and some would argue, amiable) I’m told that altering my state of mind via pharmaceuticals is not OK.
But drinking in accepted part of our culture that we don’t question because hey, it’s normal — everyone drinks, it’s just who we are.
Perhaps it is only now that my child is a teenager and the talk of alcohol is bubbling from a whisper to a huge roaring shout that I’m more aware of how entrenched this drinking culture is. And it’s not just the stereotypical rowdy teens at a party, or the fans watching sport. Not just the after work drinks to delineate the cut off between work and play or the social get-togethers.
Last week five recent cases of mothers caught driving under the influence with their children in the car were reported. Indeed last year one mum confessed to drinking seven glasses of wine before getting in the car to pick up her kids from school. And while I am horrified at the thought of her driving anywhere near my son’s school I am not that surprised.
There is a growing trend on social media through the use of viral memes, to laugh at how much mothers drink. We use motherhood as an excuse to drink, giving the message that it’s normal — it’s just what mums do.
The 5pm glass of wine is the Holy Grail, it’s what we are all meant to hang on to during the day as we trudge through the banality of raising small children, as we mediate fights and tantrums and pick up tossed items of clothing. Soon it will be over and we can drink.
Somewhere it is 5pm and surely that means it’s time to self medicate. We’ve survived the day — now we get to celebrate with a drink.
But I am raising a teen and I want to challenge that.
I can try my best to keep him away from underage drinking, I can explain what happens to his young brain when it is affected by alcohol and I can keep him away from the pub. But, just as importantly, I want to keep him away from the constant messages that alcohol is the way to unwind, that alcohol decreases stress and that any small win, even just getting to the end of the day, means being rewarded with a drink.
Drinking means that 15 deaths and 430 hospitalisations occur each day in Australia. That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.