On Sobriety

Who’da thunk that something that started for so many of us as an act of rebellion, would come to be something so utterly conventional?

No, really. Drinking is what everybody does. If you say you’re not drinking anymore, people think there’s something wrong with you. Rarely do I get a “Wow, good for you! And you look great, by the way!” No, it’s usually, “Oh no! What happened? Are you alright?” Yes, I’m perfectly fine, I just decided to stop poisoning myself is all. Really. 

It’s been a good three years since I’ve had a drink, and probably 3 and a half since I was a “regular” drinker. I never got to the point of addiction, but I had at least a glass or two of wine pretty much every day, and there was no wrong occasion for an extra glass of something. Ever.

I think it started when I was in my late teens or early twenties. My parents didn’t approve of me drinking. Well, my mother super didn’t approve. And so, of course, it made me just a little bit happy to piss her off, and it made me feel like a bit of a bad-ass for doing something not illegal, but certainly forbidden. My mother abhorred drunken women, that disgusted her. I always tried hard not to be drunk at home, but I did drink a little. And then some more, as I spent more and more time further and further afield. Being a musician on the road can be an alcohol-fueled lifestyle. And so it went. I was proud of being able to knock back a shot of whiskey without flinching. And apparently, guys liked it.

And this went on for years, with brief periods of sobriety sprinkled in, just to be sure I wasn’t getting physically addicted – although, let’s be honest, if you have to stop doing something for two weeks at a time just to make sure you’re not addicted, you probably have a bit of a problem. But never enough of a problem to actually do anything about it.

I got lucky. My drinking got stopped by the onset of the worst headache pain I can imagine after just one glass of wine. Horrifying, stupefying, blinding, sick-making pain, to the accompaniment of a horrifying high-pitched whine that I swear was my brain screaming. After a couple of those, I was flat out terrified to pour myself another glass of anything at all. Nothing was wrong; my constitution had just hit its alcohol limit. So I haven’t had a drink since the last time that happened, and at this point, I don’t expect I ever will again.

Because being sober and not drinking at all is a much bigger act of rebellion than drinking ever was.

It’s like that old Adam Ant song; “Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do ya do?” Well, Adam, it’s actually something inside. It’s something like rebellion, and something like self-actualization, and something like self-love. Alcohol has always been bad for me, but now it’s actually causing me extreme physical pain, so okay. Done. And it’s sad that it took excruciating headaches to make me stop, but I’m grateful that something did. I’m so much healthier I can’t even believe it.

I’ve come across a lot of people lately who are making the decision to stop drinking, and it seems like such an agonizing decision to make. And some of them are straight up ashamed – not of their drinking, but of quitting after all this time. Like somehow quitting makes them seem weak. But it’s the opposite of that, seriously. To quit doing this thing, that is so entrenched in our culture that not doing it is like being some kind of alien, is an act of Will and Power. Quitting makes you sharper, clearer, more focused, and much more balanced – and on a daily basis you find yourself running rings around most of the other people around you, because half of them are hungover.

It’s pretty easy to make the transition from meeting friends at a bar to meeting at a coffeehouse. Some coffeehouses even sell wine, so your friends who still think they can’t live without it will survive. But friends and clients tell stories about how families actually are the worst offenders when it comes to pressure to keep drinking. It’s a family thing, we drink when we get together, and you not drinking harshes our buzz. Maybe some of them realize that their drinking is unhealthy and out of control but don’t want to admit it. They’re the ones who are most likely to disparage any efforts to curb the habit. They know it’s bad and they should stop, but they’re not strong enough to stop, and it tweaks at them a little bit that you are strong enough. That means you’re stronger than they are, and they can’t be having with that.

And that’s the crux for a lot of people. It’s a major mirroring event that is nearly unbearable. You are holding up to them what they could do, what they could be, how good life could get. Alcohol, folks, is a depressant. It slows you down, makes you sluggish and heavy, and over time, yes, it brings on an overall depressing of life’s buoyancy. A glass of wine with dinner isn’t gonna kill ya, nor is the occasional margarita. We’re human, we apparently like to get effed up once in a while. That’s okay. But the habitual, daily dosing with this weak and slow-acting poison is just a bad thing to do. And for some of us, the only way we can do it is to not do it at all.

“Give me one, I’ll want two. Give me two, I’ll forget how to count.”

So stick to yer guns, my fellow water-drinkers. I don’t care what Horace said, water drinkers have created plenty of amazing stuff, because we have the energy and focus to get shit done. I’m every kind of proud of you for holding the line. You are not alone, believe me. There is no shame in saying no thanks.

Need some encouragement to keep doing what you know in your heart is right, but nobody else gets it? I’m here.