Or Whiskey, or Gin or Wine.
Last year, in late December, with the participatory support of my manpanion Mathieu, I challenged myself to go one entire year on this sizeable planet without drinking any alcohol, AT ALL. Not a sip, not a sniff, not a nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
Spoiler alert : I DID IT!
And when I announced the news of my undertaking to fellow humans, 99.9% of them had the exact same response. They furled their brow and scrunched up their faces into an angry little wrinkle and sassily remarked, “Why would you do that?”
And my response was, “Well, why not?”
When I was in high school, my dad would always reminisce about his teenage years. He told me that he would take a month off of drinking every once in awhile, just to prove to himself that he could still do it. A wise man, indeed, and an inspiring thought. So inspiring in fact, that four years ago, I began gearing myself up for an annual go at Sober October and then at Sober April. Two months, half a year apart, where we would consume no liquor and no cannabis.
This was not Matt’s first bout with sobriety, he had done a few months here and there and a longer stint a few years back, but had felt he wasn’t in the place where it led to any other internal work, just applying discipline and then not applying discipline. But for me, this was my first crack at the empty beer can.
My first Sober October was super weird and challenging for me to wrap my head around. I remember going on a camping trip during the first week sans booze and when we got to the camping area, I looked at Matt and sighed. “Well, we’re going camping and we can’t drink, so what are we supposed to do?” He gave me a sideways laughing glance and led me down to the beach where we proceeded to build a badass DIY sweat hut that was hilarious and ridiculous and kind of sort of worked a little bit. We laughed and played and swam and laughed and sweat and laughed and had an incredible time, yes, even without the booze.
As our sober month stints continued year after year, I found that I was missing a key piece of the puzzle. After thirty days booze free, I was feeling rested and rejuvenated and great. But then, I would go down to the liquor store, buy a six pack and a few tall boys and we would basically, make up for lost time. We hadn’t used the month of abstinence to try and implement a better balance for ourselves or set up a structured success once we were back on the booze. Bottom line, we hadn’t really been dealing with our shit.
Slowly, we would slip from trying to “earn our beers” by going for a hike/bike/trail run and then rewarding ourselves after the fact, to just plain old sitting around with friends and sipping cool ones. And most people, from the outside looking in, would say that our balance was more than okay.
But, I knew that for me, my balance was a bust. Alcohol had become a crutch, a mask, a protector. It had become an excuse. A reason to stay up late and not get up early. A reason to keep working a job I no longer loved and living a life I didn’t feel fulfilled in. It became the only way to wash away a bad day, or bad news or bad communication. Being hungover and lack lustre was just par for the course, so deeply ingrained in me that I hadn’t even noticed my spark wilting away. It was poorly affecting my sleep, my energy and my sex drive. I would use it as fuel to be loud and funny and wild and free, to do and say whatever I wished, an excuse to be the me I truly wanted to be, a me that I had lost the courage to be without the liquid courage.
It had become a social lubricant without my even noticing. My mood would swing high, high and then crash low, low. I had trouble being honest and creative and setting boundaries for myself. I lacked self control and discipline and I blamed it on the booze. I felt like I was constantly setting myself back every time I drank. And when I drank, I would often get drunk. Not just one or two social beers, it would always become five or six. If you know me, you know I tend to verge on the extremes. Balance has never been my forte.
And then, at the end of our bike trip in 2015, I didn’t want it. I would crack a beer and take two sips and be turned off. My body started rejecting it. I would have two beers and the next morning, I would be so sick. Hangovers began to last for days on end. My mind and body and soul were all asking me to stop and after a mid autumn breakdown, I finally listened.
Matt quit drinking in early December, even though we had planned to go visit my family over the holidays. I knew I would struggle during the visit, so I opted to wait until after. My family and friends back home, have been known to indulge in a brew or two (or three) and while this is not uncommon for our Western society, us Saskatchewan folk know how to do it well. The winters are long and cold and dark and a lot of people would rather turn to the liquor than fight through without it (though this seems to go for warm and sunny place, too). No judgement on this end, obviously, I understand.
I survived the holidays while indulging less than ever before and on December 27, 2015 at my Aunt & Uncles 40th wedding anniversary, I set down my empty glass of lentil beer, yes, lentil beer, and strayed back to the hotel room for one last booze riddled rest.
Now, I want to tell you all that I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and that it’s been easy and fun ever since. That I always feel better than the day before and that life is as good as it gets, that I never wanted to have another drink and that I have it all figured out! But, the reality is that that is no one’s reality and that life is a journey and to be totally honest, some days I’m convinced that life without the liquor is harder than ever before. That facing the reality without the bottle is hard and fast.
You see, the first month was easy, New Year, New You, as they say. It was fresh and new and exciting. I talked about it with anyone who would listen. I was ready for the change and the challenge! Unbeknownst to me, bringing the conversation up forced those around me to reflect on their own balance. And even though this was never my intention, it would happen and people would become resistant and defensive and challenge my decision, saying that my balance was fine and that I was in fact, not an alcoholic. Of course, it was always a reflection of their own inner turmoil, but at the time, I was confused by the lack of support and encouragement of a seemingly healthy decision.
As time went on, I internalized a lot of my observations, self reflection and awarenesses that I gained from the clarity I was starting to feel. I talked about it to people who would ask or close friends who were interested. Matt and I would spend hours reflecting on our lives and our choices and continued to move down the road of self development and improvement together. In fact, for the first three months, we took a break from cannabis too.
My energy levels had started to come up and my digestion was back on track, my moods leveled out and my sex drive, well, nevermind. Deep, sound sleep was at an all time high and creativity was going strong. Most things were definitely taking an uphill swing, while my weight was on the downhill swing. Yay!
Two and a half months strong and just shy my 30th birthday, I took a life changing trip to Merritt for Vipassana, a 10-day silent meditation retreat. Two weeks following that, I partook in a profound two day Washuma retreat, an important time of internal analysis and reflection.
For the first three months, my social life changed drastically. I didn’t hang out with certain folks and lots of old friends, I didn’t go to the pub, the bar or house parties. Friend dynamics changed and I noticed how many people I had been spending time with that I had nothing in common with, except the booze. People joked that it was a faze, or would try to get me to have “just one drink” or ask if we were “still doing that” and while they would act in good fun, the lack of support was a real nod to people's personal and internal struggles.
But on the other hand, more and more people started opening up to me about their imbalance, their lack of discipline and their inability to stop drinking. Some of our friends even challenged themselves to take on short doses of sobriety themselves and we were always supportive either way.
My moods had leveled but there was still a low lying depression that was very palpable. Matt and I had moved into an incredible new dwelling where we were house sitting for some generous friends of ours. The house was warm and welcoming and a great place to go through the changes and challenges we were both facing and were about to face.
You know, It’s kind of like starting from scratch in a lot of ways. Like going back to who you were before alcohol started clouding that person. We both started to have all of these existential life questions, wondering more than ever, “Well, who am I really? Am I the person that I am when I am drinking or is that a mask? What is that covering up? Do I really like the people I am spending my time with, or have I convinced myself I do? Do I like the person I am?” It has become an exercise in figuring out who I really am and now, who I really want to be.
Let me be clear, just quitting drinking will certainly not bring about all of these questions for all people. Matt and I have both, separately and together, gone through years of internal observations, hard and profound personal work, psychedelic therapy and experiences and quitting drinking alone will not sort all these things out, but for me, it was a real stepping stone, a great starting block to clarity and I truly feel it’s opened me up to travelling deeper down the path of self improvement, development and actualization. It has removed a barrier that was standing in my way for a very, very long time.
Both Matt and I had been drinking quite regularly since we were young teens. I clearly remember the first time I got drunk. I was drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade with a few girls in a friends back shed before going to watch a hockey game when we were 13 years old. I remember the feeling of rebellion and also of inhibitions falling away. It allowed the young, awkward, self conscious, unsure, uncomfortable, questioning, confused teenage me to feel free, accepted and unshackled. How could I not go back for more?
Alcohol had a large place in my life for many years and not always in a negative context. I have many fond memories (and even more not remembered ones, too) that alcohol was a part of and I don’t regret or wish to change any of those situations. I accept that which has been with the knowledge and understanding that I have now. I don’t discredit or look down on those times in my life, they have helped shape me into the person I am now.
But I do think that it’s so unfortunate that we often find alcohol at a time in our lives when we are trying to figure ourselves out. What we care about and stand for, what and who we want to be. My relationship with alcohol really blurred who I was and who I wanted to become. The lack of balance in that addiction encouraged a lack of balance in other realms of my life, one that I wouldn’t really have the strength and clarity to sort out until three decades of my life had passed.
I don’t mean to blame alcohol for my failures, my sadness or my displeasures, that would be using it as an excuse (this is a work in progress). And this year I faced the very profound realization that I need to take responsibility for my shit (also a work in progress). That it’s no one or no things fault that I am where I am, my decisions have led me here. My choices are mine alone. And complaining is not a solution.
I have had many dark, deep, sad days where I sit down with my head in my hands, heart heavy and eyes spilling tears and I can feel the entirety of my body convulsing as I sob. The struggle and the sadness of life is inescapable and often overwhelming. But the acceptance of your own condition, of your reality, is as empowering as it is lonely and difficult.
The realization that I have turned to the socially accepted numbing agent that is alcohol so many times in my life to try to hide or fix or ignore the truth is so clear to me now. Within the last year, there have been at least a dozen days where I wanted nothing more than to drown my sorrows in a bottle of forgetfulness, or on the other end of the scale, to celebrate a great day with friends with a tasty cold beer. But the truth for me at this particular time in my life is that I am working towards my human potential, towards becoming the best version of me that I can be, finding the balance and clarity and mindfulness and for right now, for me, alcohol doesn’t fit into the mix.
Don’t think that I haven’t envisioned a time where a glass of wine or a pint of beer is part of my reality, but that time for me just isn’t right now. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. And for me, it feels really great to ring in my thirties and my new year with that realization and acknowledgement in mind. The hard times are hard and the good times are good and here’s to wishing you all the best in the coming year and all the years that follow.
I raise my glass of water to you and your decisions, your condition and your ability to create whatever reality you choose. All the best in 2017!
Cheers!
Ali B
