![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spryngJan 2nd of 2022 I promised myself I wouldn't drink alcohol again. And, I haven't.
That could be the whole post, but folks always want to know why.
There's a misconception that you either are an alcoholic - drinking from sunrise to sunset, your liver a shriveled wreck, your relationships just as shriveled, one bad hangover away from being fired, and life-threatening withdrawal symptoms if you ever try to quit - or not. But of course, there's a wide spectrum in-between. I wasn't an alcoholic in any medical, traditional, treatable sense, but I didn't like my relationship with alcohol and hadn't for a while.
I have a problem with sugar. It's hard for me to say no and I always want it. I know exactly where every candy bar and chocolate chip is in our house. When the cravings are really bad, I'm hyper aware of those hiding spots. I always break and have some, more than some. The only way to stop those cravings is to cut sugar out entirely.
Alcohol was like that. If there was wine in the house, I'd crave a glass all evening until I convinced myself it was a good idea. I'd look forward to going to a restaurant so I could have a bear. I liked the taste, or so I told myself, but I especially liked that gentle feeling of a soft buzz that really only lasted 10min, max, and then I chased it the rest of the evening.
During the initial COVID lockdowns, working from home with a 3-year-old in a 700 sqft house with the expectation fully verbalized by my boss that I would somehow squeeze in 40 work hours every week ("we don't mind if it's outside of the usual 8-5") and all of my mental health crutches kicked away, I leaned hard on that gentle buzz. I looked forward to it all day and it often felt like my one respite. Because it was.
Then there was the stress of moving cross-country with a child and a pregnant wife during a global pandemic, and I never questioned that new crutch. It became a habit. A glass an evening, and the occasional one for lunch for a treat. Even then I noticed the creep, was worried by it, but put off dealing with it until a less stressful time.
It wasn't until a full year later that I did try to put it off, many times. I got a month or two before my will broke down under the relentless "it's only a glass or two" and "it's not like you have a problem."
If I didn't have a "problem," why stop?
But I knew something wasn't right and I couldn't shake it. There was no one to talk to, to hash out my complicated feelings around alcohol. I resolved to do a Dry January... well, just after I finished this open bottle of wine from New Year's Eve.
I found the stopdrinking sub reddit at the same time, and that's what truly made the change. Here were people I could talk to, some in very dangerous boats, but some whose boats were very similar to mine. And it was there where people questioned the point of drinking at all that I began to understand what was making me so uneasy about alcohol. I read a few recommended books and it was like... not quite scales falling from eyes level of revelation, but a weight dropping from my shoulders.
I'd known that all those studies that show moderate alcohol content was good for you were biased af, but I hadn't realized there'd been even more studies that show any amount of alcohol was bad for you. That breast cancer rates went sky high with just an extra drink a week. That the alcohol industry is billions of easy dollars and that many of the drugs classified as illegal were far less deleterious to an individual's health.
I admit, I didn't look too deep into the veracity of the claims. Take them with a grain or two of salt, but I can say that after a month, I couldn't believe how much better I felt. After two months, how much better I looked. After three months, how I was able to fully wean off of my anti-anxiety meds.
It was a full six months before the urge to open a bottle of wine fully receded. Now the desire ebbs with the occasion -- I was surprised by how much I wanted a beer when the weather was fine and I was relaxed and happy sitting outside. I was surprised by how much I wanted rum when we were rolling cookie dough and there was ice on the windowsills. I was surprised by how much I wanted to celebrate even small moments with wine, to lift a glass and say cheers.
But a fizzy water did the trick most nights and even for New Year's Eve, I topped a glass of ice with a sparkling cranberry and ginger drink and it felt festive and right.
Sometimes I am more prickly than I'd like to be -- than my wife would like, too -- and normally on those occasions I would have smoothed over those prickles with wine. But that's just me and I have to learn how to smooth those prickles myself. Or maybe, others need to learn to look out for them.
All I know is, I'm done with alcohol.
That could be the whole post, but folks always want to know why.
There's a misconception that you either are an alcoholic - drinking from sunrise to sunset, your liver a shriveled wreck, your relationships just as shriveled, one bad hangover away from being fired, and life-threatening withdrawal symptoms if you ever try to quit - or not. But of course, there's a wide spectrum in-between. I wasn't an alcoholic in any medical, traditional, treatable sense, but I didn't like my relationship with alcohol and hadn't for a while.
I have a problem with sugar. It's hard for me to say no and I always want it. I know exactly where every candy bar and chocolate chip is in our house. When the cravings are really bad, I'm hyper aware of those hiding spots. I always break and have some, more than some. The only way to stop those cravings is to cut sugar out entirely.
Alcohol was like that. If there was wine in the house, I'd crave a glass all evening until I convinced myself it was a good idea. I'd look forward to going to a restaurant so I could have a bear. I liked the taste, or so I told myself, but I especially liked that gentle feeling of a soft buzz that really only lasted 10min, max, and then I chased it the rest of the evening.
During the initial COVID lockdowns, working from home with a 3-year-old in a 700 sqft house with the expectation fully verbalized by my boss that I would somehow squeeze in 40 work hours every week ("we don't mind if it's outside of the usual 8-5") and all of my mental health crutches kicked away, I leaned hard on that gentle buzz. I looked forward to it all day and it often felt like my one respite. Because it was.
Then there was the stress of moving cross-country with a child and a pregnant wife during a global pandemic, and I never questioned that new crutch. It became a habit. A glass an evening, and the occasional one for lunch for a treat. Even then I noticed the creep, was worried by it, but put off dealing with it until a less stressful time.
It wasn't until a full year later that I did try to put it off, many times. I got a month or two before my will broke down under the relentless "it's only a glass or two" and "it's not like you have a problem."
If I didn't have a "problem," why stop?
But I knew something wasn't right and I couldn't shake it. There was no one to talk to, to hash out my complicated feelings around alcohol. I resolved to do a Dry January... well, just after I finished this open bottle of wine from New Year's Eve.
I found the stopdrinking sub reddit at the same time, and that's what truly made the change. Here were people I could talk to, some in very dangerous boats, but some whose boats were very similar to mine. And it was there where people questioned the point of drinking at all that I began to understand what was making me so uneasy about alcohol. I read a few recommended books and it was like... not quite scales falling from eyes level of revelation, but a weight dropping from my shoulders.
I'd known that all those studies that show moderate alcohol content was good for you were biased af, but I hadn't realized there'd been even more studies that show any amount of alcohol was bad for you. That breast cancer rates went sky high with just an extra drink a week. That the alcohol industry is billions of easy dollars and that many of the drugs classified as illegal were far less deleterious to an individual's health.
I admit, I didn't look too deep into the veracity of the claims. Take them with a grain or two of salt, but I can say that after a month, I couldn't believe how much better I felt. After two months, how much better I looked. After three months, how I was able to fully wean off of my anti-anxiety meds.
It was a full six months before the urge to open a bottle of wine fully receded. Now the desire ebbs with the occasion -- I was surprised by how much I wanted a beer when the weather was fine and I was relaxed and happy sitting outside. I was surprised by how much I wanted rum when we were rolling cookie dough and there was ice on the windowsills. I was surprised by how much I wanted to celebrate even small moments with wine, to lift a glass and say cheers.
But a fizzy water did the trick most nights and even for New Year's Eve, I topped a glass of ice with a sparkling cranberry and ginger drink and it felt festive and right.
Sometimes I am more prickly than I'd like to be -- than my wife would like, too -- and normally on those occasions I would have smoothed over those prickles with wine. But that's just me and I have to learn how to smooth those prickles myself. Or maybe, others need to learn to look out for them.
All I know is, I'm done with alcohol.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-02 12:07 pm (UTC)(I have a different and kind of boring shape of story: in my 40s I have discovered that even a little alcohol very easily messes up my sleep. And in my 40s it is extremely rare that any drink can sound so tasty that it's worth not sleeping well. So I'm not done with alcohol per se, I just...am not drinking any of it.)