On August 2nd I stopped drinking alcohol and eating meat. Quitting alcohol had been a-long-time-a-comin’. There’s something about feeling like shit after an evening of imbibing (and feeling great post all non-drinking days) that hopefully persuades some type of action sooner or later in a rational human. Needing to replace what was in my perpetual glass by my side, I read Kris Carr’s book, Crazy Sexy Diet, to discover recipes for uber healthy juices. Her words about a plant-based-diet, along with my recent bouts with undercooked chicken wings with visible hair follicles, bloody steaks, and charred hamburgers, convinced me to forge ahead with a double dose of abstinence.
I went along for two months as a teetotaler. If I joined a group for after-work drinks, I had an aloe water in tote. I sincerely enjoyed trying all of the creative veggie dishes on restaurant menus. Who knew cauliflower and brussel sprouts were so delicious?! Bartenders in New Orleans concocted delicious virgin drinks that aided my feeling that I was not missing out on a thing. In fact, I felt just the opposite. While others complained of hangover headaches and bloated tummies, I felt happy and smug inside. I was so confident of my new path that on September 26, I wrote a near 1,000-word post about how I, a person admittedly very comfortable residing in the gray area on most issues, had chosen a side of the line when it came to alcohol. I never made that post public.
In the last 4 months, I’ve devoured 6 books on the topic of becoming sober:
- Blackout – Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget by Sarah Hepola
- Kick the Drink…Easily! by Jason Vale
- Quit Like a Woman by Holly Whitaker
- Recovery – Freedom from Our Addictions by Russell Brand
- Sober Curious by Ruby Warrington
- The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober by Catherine Gray
As an on-the-wagon adult in my circle, things got very lonely very quickly. The authors’ drinking and sober experiences helped me to feel connected, which I desperately needed for strength to continue on a very difficult (sometimes boring) path. Some of the writers are committed to complete abstinence for life, and a few are able to live in that gray area – the area where I’ve realized I’m a happier being. That black and white line tempts me to crossover because, you know, don’t tell me what to do. The gray area gives me options. Instead of an absolute yes or no, I can evaluate each situation and decide what it best for the particular situation at that date and time.Â
After 2 months + a few days of no liquor, spaghetti was the plan for dinner. I texted a very rational friend and asked if I should allow myself a glass or two of my favorite wine to pair with my Italian cuisine. She told me that I deserved it. It was time.
Comparing that first drink to a sex-capade after a long dry season would not be fair. The sex totally wins, and that’s a good thing. The wine was fine. It took me a long time to drink one glass with dinner and I was happy to allow myself to do what I wanted to do. I felt fine the next day. The same goes for my tip-toes back into eating flesh. Every so often, I would take one slice of our dinner Rotisserie chicken breast or one bite of a meatball, and my toes didn’t curl with supreme delight. It was fine. Non-climactic on both accounts but nice to not feel so rigid about life.
Two months of not drinking helped me hit a much-needed reset button. It has focused my awareness & made me mindful of drinking liquor. Before, it was something I did without much thought. It had become habitual to come home and pour a glass of wine or drink with the group of friends who, well, met up for a drink. When given an opportunity to drink alcohol, I find that sometimes I truly prefer a non-alcoholic drink. I make myself stop and consider what, in this specific moment, would taste best. I have made or ordered a mixed drink, or poured a glass of wine, not enjoyed the taste, and then I didn’t drink it. This sounds novel, but once liquor and the subsequent buzz has become a routine, this flow that seems natural to most doesn’t happen naturally. My body is (and has been for some time now) letting me know when to tap the brakes, but I’m actually listening now. Losing 10 pounds simply by making different options of what went down my throat helped me clean out my ears.
I’ve gradually noticed that none or too much of anything messes that thing up. “Moderation is the key” is such a responsible cliche’ – it makes me feel dull just typing it, but I can’t help but respect its truth. When I recall any pleasure I’ve saturated myself with – (alcohol, marijuana, shopping, food, and yes, even sex) the too-muchness of it makes it less appealing. (Can we say U.T.I.?) Even healthy choices go wrong without balance. Running daily has caused me knee pain, but too much sleep makes my body stiff. While recently listening to affirmations, I heard the notion of “a saturation of abundance.” I can’t help but contemplate if even that could go astray. Can we truly appreciate having if the lack of is never experienced?
There was a moment in New Orleans when my two counterparts, who had each consumed lots and lots of liquor compared to my none, were walking back with me to our Airbnb for the evening. One was stumbling and swaying and the other dropped a bag. My sober self and the stumbler laughed hard and long at this slap stick humor. It felt so good to be amused and happy – and the next day, I was the only one able to recall the moment. That one moment has stuck with me because damn, what good is a fun time if we can’t remember we had it? And so, my daily hope is to be saturated in nothing but happy in the gray middle, where there is no black or white or too much or too little.Â
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