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Loving People Who Drink Too Much in a Country That Doesn’t Know What to Do About It
This is personal. In my family, alcohol is everywhere. It’s at birthdays, holidays, backyard cookouts, and late-night arguments. It’s woven into the way we celebrate and cope. And it’s also how we lose each other.
I’ve watched people I love drink too much, too often. Not because they’re bad people. Not because they’re “addicts.” But because it numbs things. Because it lets them be loud without shame or quiet without questions.
“They don’t day drink… but overconsumption has led to injury and health complications.”
I’ve tried to talk to them about it. Sometimes they listen. Sometimes they don’t. And even when they say they’ll cut back, something always pulls them back in.
People talk about treatment like it’s a fix. AA, therapy, rehab. But none of it works unless they want it to. And sometimes, the people I love… they just don’t.
“They’re making a conscious choice to enjoy something that they know is harming them.”
That’s the hardest part. Knowing you can’t save someone who isn’t ready to be saved. All you can do is love them and be honest. Support doesn’t always mean dragging them to a meeting. Sometimes it means being the one who quietly takes their keys. Or the one who checks in the next morning. Or the one who still answers their calls.
I wish there were more spaces in our communities — especially for Latinas — where we could talk openly about this. Where we weren’t judged or expected to stay silent “for the family’s sake.”
There’s no magic fix. But there is love. And sometimes, that’s the only thing that keeps us from falling apart completely.
