The Elephant at Happy Hour

The Elephant at Happy Hour: Alcohol and Mental Health

Well friends, it’s that time of year again—no, not “Christmas in July” sales (though, I won’t lie, I’m tempted by a good 50% off patio set). July 7-13th is  Alcohol Awareness Week—a time to talk honestly about something that touches so many lives but often gets tiptoed around like it’s an elephant wearing a lampshade in the living room.

We’re not going to tiptoe today. We’re going to talk.

If you’ve ever lived in southeastern Ohio, you know alcohol isn’t just a drink—it’s practically a cultural artifact. It's at weddings, funerals, fish fries, fundraisers, and every holiday where Uncle Ron wants to argue politics at the dinner table. It's the social glue for a lot of folks.

But for some, it's not so social. It’s survival. Or at least, the thing that feels like it’s helping them survive. And that’s where this conversation gets…hard.

Here’s what I see all the time in my work: People are struggling. Sometimes they know it. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they know it but pretend they don’t because it’s easier than facing the truth.

Alcohol is one of the most socially acceptable ways to numb pain. You can buy it at the grocery store while you’re getting bread and eggs. Nobody bats an eye. Anyone remember “Wine with DeWine”? How about, “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!”

We laugh about it. We normalize it. But the truth is, it can be a slippery slope. For some, it’s the thing they do to take the edge off their anxiety. For others, it’s the only way they know how to cope with trauma. For many, it’s an addiction they didn’t see coming until it was wrapped around them like a vine that chokes everything else out.

And too often, in our communities, we don’t talk about why we drink. We don’t talk about mental health enough, period.

I can hear you now, “But Jamie, everyone drinks!”  Yeah, some of you reading this are going to roll your eyes and think, “Ugh. Another buzzkill.”

First—fair, just ask my siblings.  Second—this isn’t about guilt trips. It’s not about shame. This is about awareness. That’s literally in the name: Alcohol Awareness Week.

Being aware means asking hard questions: * Why am I drinking? * What role does alcohol play in my life? * Is it helping or hurting? * Do I feel in control of it? * Do I know someone who might be struggling?

If you’re fine having a beer with your buddies and you’re in a good place with it, I’m not wagging my finger at you. But I am asking you—just for a minute—to see the whole picture.

Because the truth is, someone you love might not be fine.

I’ve worked in mental health for years, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard something like this:

“He was the life of the party. No one knew how bad it was.”

“She always had a drink in her hand. We thought she was just fun.”

“We didn’t see it coming.”

That’s the part that breaks my heart. We don’t see it coming, because we don’t want to look. It’s easier to make a joke about it. It’s easier to change the subject. I get it. I’m not immune to it myself. Even in my own family, my instinct sometimes is to say, “Eh, that’s just how they are.”

Because having the hard conversation? Saying, “Hey, I’m worried about you”? That’s uncomfortable. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but most of us around here aren’t real big on emotional vulnerability.

Here’s the thing. Alcohol misuse doesn’t usually come out of nowhere.

It’s often tangled up with: *Anxiety *Depression *Trauma *Loneliness *Hopelessness

It’s not a moral failing. It’s not about being “weak.” It’s about pain. If you’ve ever felt so raw inside you’d do anything to make it stop—even for a little while—you get it.

If you don’t get it, count yourself lucky.

Now, if you know me, you know I’m not one to leave you hanging in despair.

Awareness is only step one. Step two is action.

Here’s what you can do, right now, this week:

*Check in with yourself. How’s your relationship with alcohol? Could you go a week without it? Why or why not?

*Check in with someone you love. Ask them how they’re really doing. Listen. Don’t judge. *Know the signs. Losing control over drinking. Needing more to get the same effect. Drinking alone or in secret. Neglecting responsibilities. Feeling guilty or ashamed.

* Share resources. Don’t assume people know where to turn.

If you or someone you love is struggling:📞 Call 988 (Suicide and Crisis Lifeline)🩺 Talk to a primary care doctor—they can help with referrals.🤝 Local providers—find someone you trust. Go to www.mhrs.org for a list of local providers.

I’ll be honest—I’m writing this with a mix of professional responsibility and personal conviction. Because I’ve seen what alcohol misuse can do to families. I’ve seen the funerals. I’ve heard the regrets. I’ve felt that gnawing fear in my own gut when I’ve worried about someone I care about.

And I’ve also seen recovery. I’ve seen people reclaim their lives. I’ve seen families heal. I’ve seen hope grow where there used to be nothing but anger and sadness.

That’s why I keep talking about this. Even when people roll their eyes. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Because I love my community. And I want us all here. Healthy. Whole.

So this Alcohol Awareness Week, let’s skip the jokes for a minute. Let’s have a real conversation. Let’s look at ourselves, our families, our friends, our communities.

Not with judgment. But with compassion. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this work—my work, our work—is about. It’s about keeping each other here. It’s about hope. It’s about healing.

And yes, sometimes it’s about having the guts to say: “Hey. I’m worried about you. I love you. Let’s figure this out together.”

If you’re reading this and you’re struggling—reach out. You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever.

Don’t forget to Be Kind-to yourself and others!

JAM