Stepping Out From the Alcohol Madhouse
We all know the benefits of giving up alcohol: better sleep, smaller waistline, no more hangovers, clearer eyes and skin, the list goes on. But there are benefits beyond. Beyond what science can measure, beyond what I myself can measure, beyond what data can show. It’s living life in the truth. In a technicolor world of feeling everything, of learning what matters and what doesn’t, of learning to trust yourself above all else. It’s about living out loud and knowing you matter enough to speak up, to stand up, to move forward.
I quit drinking alcohol at the end of November, 2020. This was my second attempt. My first attempt was the summer of 2020 and lasted for about three months with a couple of blips here and there. Walking away from alcohol, or making any major life change, is rarely a straight line from point A to point B. It’s a wild and twisting roller coaster of a ride that takes us up and down and inside out. But with any type of growth, it’s all worth it.
How Did it Feel to Quit for Three Months?
It’s hard to explain. It felt empowering, adventurous, awkward, goofy, strange. Empowering because I was showing myself that I had control. That I could “take it or leave it” when I wanted to. Adventurous because I was doing things alcohol free that I normally would have done with a beer in hand. I felt kind of rebellious because I was the one not drinking while everyone around me was. It felt awkward and goofy and strange because I have never lived my adult life without alcohol. I had never parented on a Friday night without a few beers. Or had sex with my husband, or any sex for that matter, without a little beer buzz. Or went to happy hours with friends or family dinners without a drink. It wasn’t until then that I admitted how much alcohol played a role in my life.
Why Did I Decide to Quit Drinking for Three Months?
It started off as a thirty day break. But I just kept going. During the COVID lockdown, like so many other people, my drinking increased. Why not? I wasn’t going anywhere the next day, I had no reason not to have another beer, or two or three. It was July 5th, 2020, and I woke up after a day of drinking in the sun. The fact that I felt fine scared the hell out of me. So I took a few days to taper down and by July 7th I decided on thirty days. Thirty days turned into 45 days which turned into 60 which turned into 90.
Did I Do It On My Own?
I started exploring alternatives to AA the month before, in June of 2020. I found this amazing book, This Naked Mind by Annie Grace, a few years earlier and suggested it to a friend who was concerned about her own drinking. I picked up the book myself and started reading. It made sense. It wasn’t the woo-hoo hippie shit about higher powers or admitting I had a problem. All that stuff made me feel weak and broken. And I didn’t feel weak or broken. I felt like I had a problem that needed to be fixed. Simple as that. TNM talks about the science behind alcohol and how our brains adapt to the alcohol. It also talks about neuroplasticity and how we can rewire our brains through different strategies. Being a bit of a science geek and a knowledge junkie, I was hooked. I joined a TNM community, called the PATH, in June of 2020 that helped support my sober curiosities. They didn’t ask us to quit drinking, but the more I learned, the less I enjoyed drinking, until I finally stopped.
So Why Did I Start Drinking Again After Three Months?
It’s funny, our beliefs. We don’t know where they come from and we rarely question them. I still believed that I was the weird one who couldn’t handle drinking anymore. I still believed that alcohol had some benefits. I mean, why wouldn’t I? I witnessed everyone around me drinking and laughing and living their lives. I watched TV and saw characters drinking and commercials that whispered to my subconscious that a beautiful, happy life means a Mexican beer on a beach. I grew up watching my parents sipping wine every night. I remember the wild and free times of my 20’s, drinking until the sun came up, meeting friends and dates at bars. I remember how alcohol took away my natural shyness and allowed me to dance and laugh and flirt like everyone else. What I didn’t remember was the hangovers, the shame, the waking up next to men I wouldn’t even consider dating. Yet all this is acceptable, even celebrated. The crushing hangovers, the nausea, the dragging my ass around in a daze, those are things we can laugh about when we’re young. The thing is, those memories keep us believing that we need alcohol in our lives. Look around now. The alcohol commercials and ads that joke about “mommy juice,” or the low carb beers for the health conscious. Now there are “organic” drink options. Come on, organic poison? Seriously. It’s all absurd when you wake up to the truth.
After three months of not drinking I thought I had a handle on it. I proved that I could quit at any time. So I started drinking again. It was different this time, though, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. Looking back, it was the warm, fuzzy feeling that felt comfortable, like returning to your parent’s house after moving out. But it never feels like your home again. It was like that. Like I knew the comfortable feeling, but it wasn’t mine anymore. I drank for two months. The day after Thanksgiving, 2020, I woke up with terrible anxiety. Anxiety that I always had after drinking more than a couple of drinks. But I didn’t wake up with just anxiety. I woke up with tears in my eyes, a smile on my lips, and a knowing. An absolute, fearless knowing that I was done.
It’s been 15 months. 15 months of learning who I truly am. 15 months of learning that I can indeed trust myself. There is a buffer time between your last drink and finally feeling comfortable in your decision. Feelings that have been suppressed for years come bubbling up and out. Fears, anger, sadness, insecurities; they come out of the nooks and crannies they’ve been hiding in. It can be a rough road for a while. I wish I could give you a specific time frame, but it’s different for everyone. I can tell you it’s within a year, but the duration and intensity varies based on people’s own experiences. My emotional outbursts came and went for about 8 months before I started to stabilize. I was upfront and open with my loved ones. I quickly learned to roll with the emotions and call them out for what they were. I learned to trust the process, to trust that they were old emotions that had been trapped and festering inside. They weren’t always pretty but they needed to come up in order to be set free.
Will I Ever Go Back to Drinking?
I don’t ever say never, but right now, I have absolutely no desire. Why would I want to numb this life even in the least? Why wouldn’t I want to feel all these feelings and give myself the space to process them? It’s funny, my husband still drinks. On a couple of occasions, I tried a sip of his wine, which once was our wine, and my god, it truly is disgusting. No wonder it’s an “acquired taste.” Remember when we first started drinking? I was 15. Choking it down until I threw up and passed out. I continued that process until I did acquire the taste because that’s what responsible adults do; they acquire the taste of poison to look adulty and sophisticated. But why?
