90 Days of Alcohol Sobriety-A Reflection

I stopped drinking alcohol ninety days ago. There was no intervention, epiphany, or rock bottom. The reason why I stopped drinking is simple: I got a cold. The medicine I was taking, DayQuil/NightQuil, recommends that you not drink alcohol while taking it.  So I stopped. I have been a night drinker, mostly. Two drinks in the evening (usually whiskey, tequila, or beer), over the course of a couple of hours, while watching television or out with friends. Rarely, would I get drunk; maybe on a Friday night when I had a few more drinks than usual while playing video games with my friends. I was totally functional.  Alcohol wasn’t interfering with my life.  Except I knew this wasn’t true.  For a period of time before I stopped, I had been questioning my drinking habits. Was I drinking too much? Too frequently? How long had it been since I had gone more than a day or two without a drink? Deep inside, I could FEEL something was wrong with my drinking. I also knew something wasn’t right with me emotionally. For the last ten months or so prior to quitting drinking, I had been a mess. My generalized anxiety was eating me alive with a constant barrage of jealousy, fear, anger, sadness, and aggression. Alcohol helped quiet these feelings for a few blissful hours at a time, until I fell asleep. As the sun rose with each dawn, so did my anxiety. I was trapped in a destructive, worsening cycle of lows and highs, with peaks getting lower, the valleys deeper. So, when I got sick and needed medicine, I made a decision to stop drinking.  It was that simple.  Physically, stopping drinking wasn’t too hard. I didn’t have withdrawal symptoms or what I would describe as cravings. In the first couple of days, I THOUGHT about alcohol a lot. Images of myself going through my nightly drinking rituals would pop into my mind throughout the day, and, just as suddenly, exit. With time, these mental “Hello! Goodbye!”  intrusions diminished, and then stopped. So did the pathological anxiety that was ripping me apart from the inside. Within two weeks, the intense cycling of extreme emotions I had been experiencing for almost a year stopped. I felt stable again. In control. Like I had been returned to myself. This psychological healing I experienced is the closest thing to a sense of divine intervention I have experienced.  Of course, as an atheist, I don’t believe in God. With the help of the book, “This Naked Mind,” written by Annie Grace, I understand why I got better when I stopped drinking. Alcohol had my thoughts and emotions on a neurochemical rollercoaster of ups and downs that distorted my perception of the world and myself.  To extend the amusement park metaphor, I was living in an alcohol mirror maze that warped everything passing through it, including and especially, myself. On the one hand, I am ashamed that I allowed this  to happen to me.  On the other hand, I am proud that I recognized my problem before it got worse, and did something about it.  Some are not so lucky. I’m not going to lie. Three months into this journey, I sometimes miss drinking. It’s not a physical craving, more like a nagging feeling that I don’t have something I should have. An absence of ritual, perhaps. Or something that everyone else can have that I can’t. Of course, I know this is not true, that I’m not alone in committing to becoming a “non-drinker.” Friends and family- both drinkers and abstainers- have been incredibly supportive, for the most part. One person suggested that I was going too far giving up alcohol, that I should “just drink one day a week, on Friday.” While I appreciated the suggestion, I told them that this is exactly where I started with my drinking, and somehow, insidiously, I ended up in a much worse place, drinking daily and half-crazy from anxiety. Everyone is different.  For me, the reality is I shouldn’t drink because I’m healthier when I don’t.  Even though I miss drinking sometimes, there are some things I won’t miss: Planning to buy alcohol. On the way home from work? Before or after the gym? Agonizing over which beer or whiskey to buy. Is it the right one? Is it strong enough? 12 oz or 16 oz cans? A regular bottle or a handle? Worrying about how long the alcohol I just bought is going to last. The money spent on drinking. I don’t even want to think about this, really. Obsessively checking my glass, bottle, or can to see how much alcohol is left in it. Wondering whether or not I’m okay to drive. Getting up to pee in the middle of the night, even more than is normal for a middle-aged guy like me. Worrying about how I’m coming off to others in social situations after a few drinks. Being concerned about what my kids think about my drinking.   Ninety days. In the life of an alcohol-sober person, I’m still a baby.  I have a lifetime ahead of me, I know. In the last few weeks, a few people who are aware through my social media posts and podcast that I have stopped drinking have reached out to me for advice regarding their own relationships with alcohol. While I’m not qualified to help in a professional way, I did my best to listen and offer support in a non-judgemental manner.  I feel humbled that anyone would see me as a resource for positive change in their own life, and hope I was able to help. If you’re reading or listening to this and are thinking about your own relationship with alcohol and want to talk, feel free to reach out. That’s it. I hope this didn’t come off as preachy or obnoxious— I just wanted to share my story with you. Be well. Now, I need to go get a drink...of tea. Green. Hot!