Eight of Cups—Putting Away Childish Things

What's in your bag of resources?

TW: alcohol/drinking

“Coping skills are a basic competency for the tough calls that a good life requires.” —Jessica Dore, TAROT FOR CHANGE: USING THE CARDS FOR SELF-CARE, ACCEPTANCE, AND GROWTH

Moses—Egypt, Hebrew Legend

Deck: TAROT OF THE DIVINE: A DECK AND GUIDEBOOK INSPIRED BY DEITIES, FOLKLORE, AND FAIRY TALES FROM AROUND THE WORLD, by Yoshi Yoshitani

If you’ve been paying attention—and it’s totally okay if you haven’t been—today is Friday, not Tuesday. So what happened to Tarot Tuesday? I’m discontinuing it because I won’t be posting twice a week anymore. As much as I love writing these newsletters, they take too much time away from revising my novel (one of my top three priorities for 2024). From now on, I’ll be posting on Fridays only. Sometimes, I’ll pull a tarot card; sometimes, I won’t. Hopefully, that schedule will work better for me.

When I started this post, I didn’t intend to discuss my alcohol use. It’s not a comfortable topic for me. Which probably means I should discuss it. But that’s how it is with the tarot—you never know where it might lead you.

Eight of Cups

The suit of cups (water) governs life’s emotional realm—dreams, memories, intuitions, repressions, the subconscious, etc. I mention this because we’ve talked about the suit of swords (air), which concerns itself with matters of the mind and intellect. Suits are one of the main ways card meanings are determined, but for my purposes, it’s just a little extra information in case you’re interested.

According to TAROT OF THE DIVINE, Yoshi Yoshitani writes, “The Eight of Cups represents leaving good things behind in pursuit of higher ideals.” Yoshi uses the story of Moses, an Egyptian prince who abandons his royal life and wealth to pursue a spiritual and ascetic one.

I’ll say it right now—I have no intention to do likewise, at least not in a religious sense.

As with all tarot cards, The Eight of Cups can be defined more widely. While most of its meanings are centered around some form of leaving, it can lean in a more positive or negative direction depending on the reader and/or the individual for whom the reading is being done. With that said, “walking away” is usually a complicated decision requiring us to dig deep into our bag of resources, emotional and otherwise, in order to summon the courage to do it. This is what Jessica Dore refers to in the quote I used at the beginning of this post.

When I first pulled this card, I struggled to find an applicable meaning for myself. Lately, I feel like I’ve been running toward, not from, things. My relationships are healthy, my work is going well, and I’m generally in a great place right now.

But I’m also in the process of re-taking control of my life, which means abandoning (or at least curbing) some behaviors I happen to love. And the first thing that comes to mind is alcohol.

Friends, I love to drink. I love the taste, the ritual, the comfy-cozy buzz. The cultural aspects of it and the just plain fun of it. The hangovers, not so much, but I don’t have too many of those anymore, probably because of my high tolerance. Truly, if alcohol weren’t so damned toxic, I’d never stop.

I won’t take too deep a dive into my long and sordid history with drinking. Suffice it to say it’s been a regular part of my life since adulthood, beginning my freshman year in college. In my twenties, I reduced my intake quite a bit, mostly because I lived alone. Plus, I didn’t have much disposable income, and I was a moderate smoker. As gross as it is, smoking cigarettes helped me cope with my loneliness and untreated depression during that time, and my alcohol use diminished.

Then, at twenty-seven, I met my husband. We met online at the tail end of 1996 but since we both lived in Los Angeles, we met in person soon after at a New Year’s Eve party my roommate and I hosted. I was so nervous about meeting Future Husband in the flesh that I poured Champagne into two plastic cups, handed one to him, and demanded, “Here, drink this fast.” Those were literally the first words I ever said to him face-to-face.

His social circle (which became mine) consisted of big drinkers, and I fit right in. Booze was at the center of every social event. Every dinner out, every dinner in, every long, lazy weekend afternoon. Lots of good times, some bad times, too. There were consequences for all of us, but we all emerged more or less unscathed.

Things changed when our friends started getting married and having children. About eight years into our marriage, we decided not to have kids (a decision I’ve never regretted). If I’d had children, I might’ve stopped or reduced my drinking for their sake. I hope I would have, anyway. But I didn’t, and as the years went by, I started to feel like I was the only one who hadn’t quite grown up because I never really had to.

I still feel that way.

Many of those kids my friends were having then are now adults (which blows my mind, but that’s another subject entirely). And those who aren’t are growing up way too fast. And me? I’m still drinking!

I think I’ve brought you up to date. Basically, I’ve been drinking every single day for over twenty-five years. Sure, there’ve been breaks along the way—sometimes, long ones. But even so, that’s a lot of booze. Too much. And it’s finally time for me to grow up.

Dry January feels different to me this year. I’ve done it before but I was always chomping at the bit, waiting for February 1 so I could get my drink on. And while I think Dry January is a very useful thing for those who simply want a re-set, the idea that there's an end date is potentially dangerous for someone who should probably make it permanent. This year, I’m trying not to focus on an end date because there might not be one.

Alcohol dependency is a complicated thing. I’m emotionally dependent on it. Socially, too. Physically, less so, though I’m certain some of my current health concerns are, if not caused by, exacerbated by it. As a chronically depressed person, I should’ve given it up long ago.

My health. That’s really the heart of the matter—alcohol is not healthy for my body. I’ve reached a point where I can’t lie to myself about that anymore. I also can’t lie to you and say I’m giving it up permanently because I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know if I’m quite there yet. Like I said, it’s complicated.

But I’ve also spent a lot of time filling my bag of resources. My coping skills are stronger than they’ve ever been. I know myself so much better now. I’m more secure in my identity and my values are well defined. I ask myself, if not now, when?

At the beginning of this post, I said the Eight of Cups didn’t feel applicable to me right now. As you can see, I was completely wrong. There is so much more I could write about this subject, but I need to go make dinner and since this newsletter gets delivered in the morning, you’ve probably got work to do. But whatever it is you need to walk away from, know that you have the resources you need to do it. And if you don’t, start working to build your strength and coping skills. I promise you, it’s time well spent.

Friday Recommendations

1. Friends, I don’t mind admitting I have a writing crush on Lou Berney. I love his books; his latest, DARK RIDE, is no exception. Get it, read it.

2. First Reads: If you’re an Amazon Prime member, you get to choose two First Reads books this month. There are three I can recommend—Steve Weddle’s THE COUNTY LINE, Amina Akhtar’s ALMOST SURELY DEAD, and Heather Levy’s HURT ME. Full disclosure—I haven’t had a chance to read HURT ME yet, but it’s high on my TBR list.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Holly xx