A Little More is Never Enough – The Joys of Sobriety

I love alcohol.

I’ve loved it for years and years, too. I love a good wine, a tasty beer.  Whisky and rum, too, I love.  And I love the ritual of it, the unwinding after a stressful day, the ritual of opening a bottle and looking forward to relaxing with it, the chance to allow the mind a moment of oblivion.  I love the enjoyment of it, the sensation of it, the feel of it, the moment when it hits your body and you relax just a little bit, because you’re allowing yourself to relax and giving your body the triggers to do so.  I love alcohol.

My particular trap wasn’t clubbing or partying or anything like that.  I was generally pretty well-behaved at parties, to a point.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was never the last to start drinking, nor the first to stop, I always had an eye out for that extra glass of wine, and never knew that I’d quite had enough.  I did maintain a little care, though, I never wanted to be publicly drunk.  Once or twice, when it did happen, weren’t entirely my fault – I need to accept some responsibility for them, but when the wrong card was drawn in a drinking game, then that was that.  I never played a drinking game again, actually – like I said, I never enjoyed being drunk in company.

Mind, one of the times I was blind drunk in public is also, in hindsight, one of the ones which has really stayed with me.  I was on a uni class trip to Italy and, on the last night of our excursion, that red Italian wine was flowing very freely.  I don’t remember every detail of the night, and don’t know that I want to.  I was not, at least, ‘dangerously’ drunk – no vomiting, no crimes serious enough to cause a fuss, and able to make my way back to the hotel on my own two feet.

I was rooming with a good mate of mine, who also had an earlier flight than I did the following day.  I woke up as he was leaving, managed to just about mutter some word of farewell, and that was that – I got up half an hour later and left.  But when I next bumped into him a few days later, he mentioned, half-jokingly, that he “wasn’t entirely sure if I was gonna be ok the next day, or even wake up at all.”

And, incredibly, the first thing that crossed my mind was, “Huh….I don’t think I drunk that much that night.”

And to be fair, by some measures of ‘too much’, I didn’t drink ‘too much’…not even the meanest of hangovers haunted me the day after.  But, y’know, it was definitely too much, and I couldn’t see the wood for the free refills at that point in my life.

No, social drinking was never my bane, though I cannot pretend it was good for me either.  When I drank, I drank alone.  And then I really drank.

To be honest, I’m not overly keen to go into that – even for me, it remains raw, unpleasant, even a little distressing.  It will always be a part of me, and it will always be something I did, and I’ve come to terms with that and learned how to prevent it.  But that doesn’t mean I relish recalling it, either.

What is easier (and perhaps more productive) for me is to recall the reasons why I felt I needed that escape, in that way.  And, as such things often are, those reasons are messy and complex and I still realise certain things about them, uncover some new subtlety.

Ultimately, though, I drank because I felt I needed that escape, that bliss of oblivion.  I think too much, and not often about useful things, and I don’t turn that off easily.  I smile and joke and try to be a pleasant and easy person to be around, but I feel fears and anxieties…even if sometimes I’m the last person to realise it.  And if I can’t grant myself the stillness that I crave, why not reach for a bottle to help me out?

I think that’s partly why I never felt the same about drinking in company, as I described above.  It’s also why I miraculously managed to avoid one special trap – I never drank before work.  It wouldn’t have made sense, really, as drink was my release from that – no point in having a drink before the release can even come.  So, sadly, every bungling incompetence my colleagues have witnessed in me is entirely on me.

And, needless to say, if I never drank before work, it was a rare day when I did not drink after work.  Again, it’s all about that release, that triggering of repose for me.

It took a while, for me to learn all of that.  It took a while to put it into practice, too, and for me to learn how to really truly relax.

And in some ways, nothing’s changed.  I still need to unwind, consciously and slowly.  And I still really love alcohol.  Which is why I’m not gonna be drinking it for a while.  Why I haven’t been drinking it for a while.  I’m not gonna say I’ll never drink again – never is a long time.  But I didn’t drink anything yesterday, I haven’t drunk yet today, and I see no good reason to drink tomorrow.  That’s enough for me.

And honestly, turns out life without booze isn’t that bad.  It’s easier to fall asleep, and less stressful to wake up.  I’m walking a little more and eating a little less.  I’m able to dabble in a few hobbies with much greater regularity, including writing.  The dread I felt in the first few weeks is…well, it’s unearned, turns out there’s a lot of life worth living without booze.  Not only a lot of life but, for me at least, a lot more life.

I said that I haven’t made any lifelong commitments, which is quite nice.  I often have alcohol stored in the house, in case guests want something – I’m not triggered by other people drinking, not in the slightest.  Often it’s a gift bottle of wine, or a beer or two left over from a larger party we’ve hosted.  But I’ve also got one bottle of red wine, and one bottle of mead.  The red wine was a gift, and is an excellent vintage, so I’d rather hang on to it for now, and the mead is kept because, in all my years of drinking, I only tried mead once, and I liked it more than anything else I ever drank.

I don’t really know when I’ll open either.  Maybe for my 40th birthday.  Maybe my 50th, or 60th.  Maybe when I get a breakthrough new job, or finally publish a book.  Maybe for the birth of a child, or for that child’s 21st birthday.  The point is, those two bottles are there, and I know they’re there, and if and when a good enough reason comes to open one and enjoy it, not more than a small cup, in company, then I’ll do so.  I won’t drink them to unwind, though, to forget a bad day, rather to mark a very good day. But I don’t know when that will be, and I am happy not to decide yet.

Maybe I’ll never decide, and that’s ok.

In the meantime, I’ve found a few non-alcoholic beers that I like.  The ritual of finishing a difficult day and reaching for a cold glass bottle remains.  Mind, where before I could drink a few litres and barely notice, now one or two are usually enough for me – it turns out, when I’m fully cognisant, I fill up much quicker than I used to realise.  So I’m a little thinner, and my wallet’s a little fatter, both of which seem acceptable to me.

As for wines and spirits, the options are less good, especially my rich red wines.  But that’s alright, too.  I’ve started drinking more tea, too, to fill the gap and to lighten off on the beers.  I forgot how much I like tea, for a little while.  Well, actually, that isn’t wholly true – I like some teas.  But I like them a lot.

And, though I implied it a little above, I feel like it’s worth repeating, much clearer – I’m happier.  Nothing big has changed in my life, I’m still tired, still not quite making enough money, still overwhelmed by certain things.  But I’m a little happier each and every day.  I’m not calculating when I’ll start drinking, nor am I fearing what I might have done last time I drank.  I’m just a bit healthier, happier, more alert, and I like being that way.

I love alcohol. But I love other things more.

Note – This post is rather different from my usual fare, and does not represent a change in direction or anything like that. Just a temporary bump in the road, for me to write about something personal that I’ve wanted to make public for a while now. If you or someone you know is struggling with alcohol, please feel free to get in touch with me – I have no qualifications whatsoever, but am always happy to be a sympathetic ear and to open up about my personal experiences, for what they are worth. I can also recommend the excellent folks over at r/stopdrinking, a community I’ve been a (largely silent) member of for some time. I don’t hate alcohol, and don’t begrudge anyone drinking, I continue to believe that there are virtues to it. But it’s not for me, not anymore…if it ever was, and I wanted to open up about that. Thanks for reading, and I’ll probably write some Tolkien nonsense next week.