A disco ball reflects light onto a party attendee at Hammyween 2022.

You heard about the craving and the shaking,
the hiding and the waiting but they never told you
about the longing. How your sober heart would spend
the first half of the party missing who you used to be:
bubbly
sociable
funny
too much
and the other half being grateful for you’ve become:
aligned.

“The First Party Since You Quit Drinking” by Jo Matsaeff (I’m Sober, 2022)

I stopped drinking on August 25th after a life threatening experience, if I’m being dramatic about it. The following 2 months were a mix of the emotions from the metaphorical halves of the party: longing, and gratitude.

There were plenty of experiences of longing. Learning how to confidently order a soda-water-and-bitters at the bar, hiding the label on my non-alcoholic beer in front of visiting family members to avoid questions, hosting my 25th birthday at my favorite brewery without having a sip of beer. And the classic moment at a dinner where someone says “cheers”, and everyone realizes you don’t have a drink in front of you. These aren’t a big deal in the long run, but I’ll always remember them as part of my journey.

There were also plenty of moments of celebration. Waking up in the morning after a night out and heading to pickle-ball courts without a hangover or single regret from last night. The lack of anxiety about what I said to someone at the party, that I went too far or was too much. The moment when a friend said “I didn’t know you were this philosophical”, and when someone else said “You’ve never been this present with me before”. Going to bed when I ran out of energy instead of looking for substances to keep me going. Having the free time to pursue projects I'd been putting off for years and finally fueling my creative side: several Craigslist meet-ups later, and I had everything necessary to take a professional portrait, and I was looking for any excuse I had to use my new gear.

But that gratitude came with a sudden realization of who I’d become over the past year, slipping slowly closer to some scary words. Dependency. Addiction. Alcoholism. Disassociation.

The hardest part was getting over the initial shock of what I’d done. Laughing with friends while watching the video I had recorded of myself, confused at how I had ended up in the trunk of a car in Ravenna at 7 in the morning with no pants, shoes, wallet or keys. I’m glad I kept my humor with me in that moment, because it’s good to laugh. But I hoped they would never find out in that video my underwear was soaked with my own urine. And that in the days following, I just couldn’t fucking stop crying.

I was able to piece together the night pretty well. A bunch of beers, well-bourbons-on-the-rocks and a few karaoke songs. Some experimentation. Leaving the bar, but coming back for some reason, and an hour-long chat with the bartender as she poured me drinks she was trying out and shared stories with me. Those drinks were where it went downhill, and were why I biked East instead of South. Why I crashed into a parked car and laid in the middle road in pain for a while. Why I took off my clothes and walked a mile and found an unlocked car to spend the night in.

The clarity helped with the uncertainty over if I’d been taken advantage of, abused, or kidnapped. It explained the cuts and bruises, the missing bike, and the car. But knowing what happened made me start reckoning with reality. I had to find a way to move forward, and accept what I’d done. And realize there had been more than a few nights like this the past few months, and I’d brushed them off once I got over the hangover.

They never told you showing up tonight would feel like haunting
your friends without ever being dead, looking at them through
a blurred window. Their sweaty bodies collapsing in
a fleshy dance you used to know by heart, screaming without words
how much they’re alive. Last time you came here you didn’t know
you would no longer be a part of it.
And that someway you would love them even more.

“The First Party Since You Quit Drinking” by Jo Matsaeff (I’m Sober, 2022)

We decided to host a party the weekend between Hammy’s birthday and Halloween. A “Hammy-ween”, if you will. We rearranged our 5-person house into party mode, moving tables and chairs and closing doors, and decorating the walls with fake spider webs and photos from Hammy’s childhood.

The disco ball started spinning, and as we were getting to ready to welcome in our guests, I proposed an idea. “What if we have a photo booth!?”. We figured out a space in the dining-room-turned-beer-pong-room where it could fit, and I started setting up my gear. And as guests started coming in, I took their photo. I took portraits with piggy back rides, jumpsuits, and every form of sunglasses we could find. And it was so much fun.

I learned to love my friends even more, even as their unlimited energy kept them dancing until 2 in the morning. And I loved them more as I gave them rides home and picked up Dick’s burgers for the rest of the party hosts on the way back. And I loved them even more as we looked at the photos the next day, as they were nursing their hangovers with Liquid-IV and Pedialite.

I used to know that dance that screams “I’m alive” by heart. And though I don’t plan to dance it anymore, I learned to take its picture.