Part Seven

Dodging the 27 Club

Thoughts from my 28th Birthday

Dubbed an “elusive and remarkably tragic coincidence in rock & roll history,” by Rolling Stone, the 27 club became widely know after Cobain’s death in 1994. When Amy Winehouse passed away in 2011 at 27 as well, the “club” gained more notoriety. Young musicians, actors and artists all losing their lives tragically from addiction to suicide to freak accidents - it’s easy to romanticize the phenomenon if you’re deep in addiction and think you’re hot shit. Misunderstood, an out-cast, troubled, genuinely unsure if your suicidal ideation is legitimate or part of the story you’re telling yourself to justify your substance abuse.

A month before my 24th birthday, I’d applied for a research study at CAMH. The study paid like $200 or something, and was exploring at-home detox from alcohol for those with alcohol use disorder. Honestly the details of it are a bit fuzzy, but they were prescribing me valium to help with the detox symptoms, and checking in via Zoom versus in the hospital, and that sounded ego-protecting enough for me. I think I knew at that point my drinking wasn’t normal. But I thought I could moderate eventually.

I just had to detox from the hard stuff first…Spoiler alert: I drank on the valium and didn’t complete the study (shocker).

To prep for the study I needed to do bloodwork to make sure my liver was in okay enough shape to safely do so from home, and to take valium. I remember getting a phone call to come in to the clinic and talk with one of the doctors. They warned me my liver enzymes were in dangerous territory, and that if I kept drinking the way I had been, I’d be lucky to see 27.

Scary?

Of course. I mean, a little I guess, at the time.

I don’t know why I was allowed to participate in the study, honestly. I was so clearly an addict and truthfully the end result should’ve been obvious. But I lied, said I was ready to get sober, told them this was the rock-bottom I needed to make a change.

It wasn’t.

It felt like my own dirty little secret. I didn’t even make it all the way home before I started googling the 27 Club and eyeing white lighters through convenience store windows. I even bought a Nirvana t-shirt from H&M - you know, like real fans do.

I turned 28 on Sunday, and I’m coming up on two and a half years sober. My fiancé was driving us out of the city to spend time with family when it hit me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, “We beat the 27 club!”We high-fived. My fiancé is no stranger to the club, and turned 28 a week before I did.

27 was probably the best year of both of our lives. I think 23-year-old, Brooke would think 28-year-old Brooke is a bit of a dork, honestly. It took a long time for me to undo the craving for “edginess” and embrace that being well, being happy, being healthy, is truly living. One might argue exposing my dingy past on the internet is a way to feed the demon that needs me to be mysterious and different and exciting to others. And one, is, probably right, if one is honest with herself. But I don’t want to die anymore. In fact, I am so excited to live. And that is progress.

I am so grateful to see 28.

I can’t wait for my 30s.

I am just getting started.

So cheers (with non-alc bubbly) to getting older, to practicing gratitude like our lives depend on it, and to progress...

...Not perfection.