How To Cope With Mass Shootings When You Don’t Drink
When I was a little girl, I thought that being murdered by a gun only happened in “bad neighborhoods” and probably involved drugs. This belief was confirmed by Hollywood features, the show Cops, and of course the occasional headline that read “Murder by Gang Violence.”
That is until something happened in my small town to shake that belief. I don’t remember the details exactly. My memory is filled with an array of images. People’s faces, newspaper articles, headlines, and a sense of doom. Google reminds me that it was January 18th, 1993 and that the time was around 2:45pm. That I remember, I had just gotten off the bus and stopped by the store next door to the balloon shop that my parents’ owned. A high school student came running in and reported that there was school shooting at the local high school. A principal and a janitor were murdered and he (the shooter, a white male) held the other students hostage before freeing them unharmed.
Only seven years later, as a senior in high school, I sat in my living room watching endless coverage of the Columbine High shooting feeling certain that being murdered could happen to anyone anywhere.
If I’m being honest, mass shootings were a major contributing factor to my drinking. If you read my book then you know that for a period of time I was deeply connected to the news. I checked it 4–5 times an hour on my phone, watched it on TV, and clicked on all the targeted articles that were marketed to me on social media. After watching, scrolling, and reading I would drink. There seemed to be no other option that would take away the madness of the world, numb me to the pain of something I felt I had no control over, and ease the secondary trauma of living in a country who’s leaders believed that there was nothing to be done to stop gun violence. I drank to cope with my extreme anxiety.
For awhile, I couldn’t relax in public settings without at least a couple of beers or a few glasses of wine to take the edge off. If I couldn’t drink, like at a preschool function or church, I would spend the entire time safety planning. I planned how I would get out, how I would protect my children, and I would scan the room and outside the windows looking for any potential threats. While I couldn’t always directly connect my anxiety to the news I’d just learned-there was an undercurrent of unease. I had trouble sleeping and would often reconsider whether or not I wanted to go to that concert, event, or even grocery shopping out of fear of being gunned down. As I type this I feel a little bit crazy for being so paranoid.
But, then again, why wouldn’t I be paranoid? Mass shootings were happening on the regular. The year that I stopped drinking there were approximately 50 mass shootings and 950 casualties. They were not a one time thing. These devastating tragedies were becoming a weekly occurrence. Reporters and news outlets shared scenes like school buildings, crying families, caution tape, and images of assault weapons right before breaking to a commercial about dog food or diabetes medication. It was a complete mindfuck.
Was I really the crazy one for being unable to calmly react to the news of gun violence?
Fast forward to a little over 5 years and recently there was a mass shooting blocks away from where I was standing outside at work. It killed 5 people and injured many others. According to this article there have been 146 mass shootings so far in 2023. I couldn’t have possible read that correctly?!?!?
Since Sept of 2017 I haven’t used alcohol to cope with stress and anxiety. I haven’t used it at all. Living without alcohol has been one of the greatest things that I have ever done for myself. But, it’s not always easy. At the end of the most recent events, I wanted to come home and numb out. I wanted to not know or feel in the way that only alcohol can numb.
Don’t get me wrong, I still try to numb. I pull up social media and endlessly scroll. My feed is usually filled with the horrible news of the day mixed in with ads for bikinis and skincare products. I try to read, but the words on the page feel insignificant. Sometimes, no matter the time, I just crawl in bed and cover my head with a pillow.
By no longer drinking to cope, I’ve come to realize that there is no quick fix. While drinking was a temporary solution, it was really only delaying and exasperating my issues. Sure, it was great to not feel for a bit but those feelings didn’t just go away. They came back with a vengeance that usually required even more alcohol to dilute. There was no running from them. They had to be dealt with.
The first thing I do when I hear news like this is accept. I must accept that currently, gun violence is part of living in America, the land of the free. It makes my heart literally hurt and I feel sick to my stomach. But, I can’t (alone) make these tragedies unhappen. There’s no amount of alcohol that will make them go away.
Next, I understand that I don’t have to make the pain go away. I don’t have to numb. I can allow myself to feel sadness, anger, and despair. This is called grief and once you start the process it’s best to let it flow.
Finally, because I’ve accepted and I’m not numb I can take action, something I could never do when drinking. It’s hard to advocate when you’re perpetually in between being either numb or hungover. I can send a letter to my council members begging for common sense gun laws. I can donate money to the families of victims’. I can send cards of encouragement and healing. I can learn more by reading and researching why gun laws are the way that they are. I can talk about my feelings with my peers, my family, and offer support to those who are struggling to cope. I can share resources about mental health and continue to advocate for those who need affordable and accessible mental health access.
Getting to a place where I could accept, grieve, and advocate took years of work. I didn’t just stop drinking and start feeling better immediately. I’ve done the work. It’s been very hard at times. But it’s a very different kind of hard from the one I was wrangling with when I drank.
It’s also helpful for me to lean on the actual facts and science about how drinking actually impedes coping. There are endless articles and research about how alcohol effects our brains. It messes with us and in particular our mental health (anxiety and depression). I shared those facts here in this TEDx talk and I continue to talk about how drinking is not an effective coping skill.
The biggest thing I’ve learned through sobriety is my need for immediate relief is replaced by a more gentle understanding that I will be able to withstand whatever terrible news the day will hold. That’s a way easier concept to swallow when I’m not drunk or hungover.
