Last week we got the great idea to quit drinking. I don’t recall how the decision was made, but I’m guessing it wasn’t made while drinking, because then we would undoubtedly have yelled WE WILL NOT QUIT DRINKING BECAUSE DRINKING IS THE MOST FUN EVER OMG DID I JUST SET MY HAIR ON FIRE? I’m guessing we didn’t decide when we were hungover, because as Irish science has shown, any decision to swear off booze when you’re eating Advil and a four-pound burrito and fries is an invitation to drink not only that night, but the next morning before going to church. Teetotaling proclamations shared with the Internet are also likely to involve tweeting acts of falling off the wagon after a grand total of four hours and quite possibly kissing your yellow lab on the mouth. Yes, I’m looking at you.
Suffice it to say that the decision was made and pinky sworn to and it’s been a week and a half since I last had an alcoholic drink. As I write this, I’m forced to count the days out on my fingers – nine – so I’m taking that as a good sign. I’ve noted that my hands are steady while doing so, bringing with it great comfort that I wasn’t in DEFCON 5 drinking status. Both matter not. I just didn’t like the way I felt. Weekends, while glorious fun, were often spent in partial recovery mode. Repotting plants and cleaning air filters would have to wait. Teeth were not brushed until noon and cat nails were clipped after the couch had been scratched. The days “after” became the back burner of life, a pile of to dos that I’d get to when the date demanded or I’d run out of human or cat food. I knew I was losing that time for relatively no reason. I’d sigh and vow to do better.
I hated the side effect that alcohol had on my speech, not while drinking – when I was a complete laugh riot and the Laroquette of my Night Court – but after. Precious, simple words always escaped me. “I’m amazed that Rob is such a good cook,” I’d start. “How do you think he made that . . .” I’d find myself searching for the word, whatever its elusive self was, scanning the walls and skies and faces of my comrades for a clue. “That purple thing,” I’d motion with my hands. “The long, firm purple thing,” I’d continue, knowing full well that everyone at the table now assumed I was talking about Rob cooking his own penis. “Eggplant?” someone would finally offer, relieving my momentary anxiety and reminding me that I had little mastery over my first language. How I hated that.
I hated too that drinking left its marks on my face. I may not put salt on my food, but I love it in all things I eat. Tortilla chips, pickles, ketchup. Salt is one of the gifts Oprah gave us, and I’m not shy about licking it from containers and the skin of sweaty homeless men. Combine this with a relatively steady intake of wine, and my face was starting to resemble a baby leg, not the smooth and sweet parts, but that bit from the thigh to the upper calf, the part that when mushed together looks like a head made of sausage, one with black dots for eyes and, in short order, a burrito and fries for a mouth. Bloated is a word used to describe dead bodies and celebrity faces, and wasn’t something I wanted to remember fondly over pictures of me in my thirties. “Grandma Kris?” some wee kid clearly not of blood relation would someday ask. “Were you related to John Belushi?”
I’m now listening, watching, trying to see what sobriety can show me. For example, did you know that Saturday mornings start before 11 am? THEY DO. In fact, there is an entire segment of society that is up and at it before 9, some as early as SEVEN, some picking up freshly brewed coffee while others chastise their children directly under your apartment window. People also run at these hours and cycle and make pancakes from scratch and grocery shop, things I’d avoid doing with even the mildest hangover. After all, hangovers demand easy. They’re the result of bad decisions that only translate into more, into food ordered in, calls left unreturned, unread library books abandoned on the night table, early afternoons spent zoned out on the couch. The evenings are similar. When you aren’t drinking, you have lots of time to do those things that you always complained were out of time’s reach. You do laundry. You write letters to friends; you return emails. You watch television shows that require more than the knowledge of four sexual bases and pick out clothes for the next day’s event. On rare occasions, you iron and remove toothpaste stains from the mirror before they eclipse the view of your entire face. “This must be how people are able to raise children,” I said two days ago, completely without a hint of sarcasm. When you’re sober, you’re able to do.
When you’re sober, you’re also able to feel. I was more than slightly anxious about attending a weekend social event without a drop of booze in my system, not because I’m generally so hammered I can’t function, but simply because I am used to it. Drinking is what I know. A summer night often consists of a cheese plate eaten on a patio, surrounded by friends and loud laughter and a cloud of humidity, accompanied by at least a drink or two. It’s nights like these on which conversation flows and so does my wit. When in social drinking mode, everything involves less effort. Topics seem to spring to mind and comebacks are at times two deep. Without wine, I worried I might be dull, my jokes might fall flat, I might have less to say and much more space in which to say it. This is a hard spot for those who cart around undiagnosed social phobias. It’s taxing enough to worry about being accepted as I’m used to being. Subtract my norm from the equation? I might as well be naked on my high school auditorium stage. And not in the good way.
I felt awkward that night, to be sure, slightly separated from the crowd and more than a little bit ancient, the older woman who decided to climb up on that wagon. There isn’t a way around it. I felt like a bit of a chaperone, the one who realized that even those two beers deep might be irritating folks nearby, who cautioned the tipsy to watch their literal steps and take Metro home. The pleasant surprise? I was eventually at ease with where I was. I was damn funny, or at least I’ll tell myself I was, and at the end of the day, that’s really all that matters. I downed a baseball park soft pretzel with extra salt and drove home free from the need to conduct blood alcohol analyses in my head. I washed my face and changed into clean pajamas like a real, live human adult. I woke the next morning with enough clarity to know that the cats should get the hell off the bed at 6 fucking a.m.
This won’t last forever, of course. I love the taste of both wine and gimlet and have a passion for indulging in all good things that come along with both. But when I do go back, it will be nice to feel like I’m making a choice, that drinking is more than a mindless go-to like putting on mascara without a mirror or making fun of Miley Cyrus. Drinking is an option, just another part of this bright and silly, glorious life, just like shiny pink nail polishes and guilty pleasure television watched with girl friends. Just like burritos and French fries.
30 Comments
I’ve done this before and the thing I’ve most noticed is the social awkwardness I felt when not drinking. So much socializing is done around booze (and food, whole other topic). Good for you for giving it a go! I’d toast to your success but that’d just be cruel. ;-)
You know, when I had to cut out booze because of the medicine I was on, I complained A LOT. But I really kind of liked it, looking back on it. And now I am like “I’m not going to go home and drink a bottle of wine because I want to actually be productive tomorrow and not be hungover.”
That’s not to say I’ve given up drinking altogether. It’s just I drink less. Which probably won’t last too long.
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Good for you! I recently made the switch from boozing as a mindless-go-to for socializing and boozing as a choice for ways to spend the occasional evening…and I’ve learned a lot from it.
I’m enjoying the fact that dark circles under my eyes are no longer par for the course. It’s pretty rad. Congrats, and I hope this effort does good things for you!
It is an amazing experiment, isn’t it? I’ve also been struck by how strongly boozers SMELL. I don’t mean that in a bad way (in fact, on Saturday night I think I was dangerously close to huffing their breath) – it’s just so DISTINCT. I can’t believe I ever thought I could fool people into thinking I hadn’t had a glass or three (viz. kids, coworkers, rabbi).
Also, HMS’s spammy comment is just cruel. ENJOY A GLASS OF WINE {BLANK}!
Well done, for the experiment. It’s always challenging to do unfamiliar stuff, and well done you for the attempt.
I’m going through this process, too, and you put it so beautifully. I have felt like drinking has become a habit – not an addiction, but something that is unfortunately routine. I won’t be “dry” forever, but it is a nice thing to let my body remember what normal feels like.
Just found your blog, and I’m loving it. Also – my two favorite drinks in the world are a vodka gimlet and wine – we’re soul sisters! I gave up drinking for 10 days, and I lost 2 pounds. True story. Good luck to you! It’s a hard habit to break, but a fun experiment too. I bet you’ll find it easier than you thought.
I have done this several times in my life, just to see if I could. In college it was actually easier, as everyone just went, Oh well, you can drive then! Awesome!
As a parent, I do occasionally find myself not as amused as I think I should be by my desire for a glass of wine immediately after a throwdown tantrum by one of my children. I also found, a year or so ago, that sometimes I am a little bit meaner to them after a couple of glasses of wine “just to take the edge off”, and upon realizing this found it unacceptable. (As one would hope, I suppose.)
So I have cut down a lot. Like another commenter I found I’ve lost weight that frustrated me before I started cutting back.
The hard part, for me, was the ego. The ego that goes with blogging actually, that I make all these jokes about wine and drinking and belong to Facebook groups called OMG I need a glass of wine or I’m gonna sell my kids, and that I have that reputation online, I suppose, for that kind of humor. Its probably not unlike what Stephanie Wilder found, when she quite drinking after writing a book called Sippy Cups Are Not For Chardonnay.
One day you wake up and realize it’s not funny anymore. But I’m with you, let’s try it out, instead of saying Never Again. I believe that’s okay, too.
I knew you saw me :))) But hey, I’m right there with ya girl… I can go four or five days but then… well hell… stress kills.
I think my body could seriously use a break. You have inspired me :)
(she says and then immediately wonders if she should pick up some booze for the weekend and have one more last blast before she starts ::sigh::)
I also wish you the sincerest of luck. I’ve done what you’re doing for seven months and three weeks (who’s counting), and I like it quite a little bit. Kudos for recognizing something about yourself and sticking with it.
I rarely drink anymore because I found that even if I don’t get the least bit tipsy (I rarely do), I still felt off the entire next day. Not acceptable.
I still indulge once in a while, and I find I enjoy more and drink less.
Good girl, I wish you luck and many insights.
After sticking my head in a freezer one night to breathe, and the subsequent OMG shoot me now hangover, I quit. That was 20 plus years ago, now I can have a glass of wine and not want another, even in a social scene. If I have five or six in a year I’d be shocked, I don’t miss it, not being in control and hang overs at all.
I love this post, Kris. I particularly love the parts about the penis and the eggplant, and the realization that life begins before 11 on weekends. It is funny and honest and so very thoughtful and real. Just like you.
I started a similar experiment five weeks ago and here’s my biggest question: why do I still feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck? It doesn’t seem fair. Sobriety should have some benefits. Anyway, best of luck!
Great post! I especially liked the Oprah line– thanks for that.
Sometimes I think we live the same life. I cannot tell u how much this post spoke to me. I just got home from having some drinks with friends and to b honest, I didn’t even really want to drink but its just “what we do”. All I could think about was how worthless I will be tmrw. Now I’m babbling (the drinks) and I am so happy to read ur post. Thank u for reminding me that there are 30 something single women out there that r just like me.So glad ur posting again.
I’ve been thinking about taking a break from alcohol myself, and I think this post just gave me the push. Thank you!
Thanks for this post.
Late last year, I beginning abstaining from alcohol consumption as well. My motivation was decidedly different however. After a night out, while roughhousing with a college-aged friend (I am a product of my testosterone no doubt), I suffered a fractured fibula and broken ankle. The ramifications of the injury were eye-opening.
I probably suffer from the same social anxieties described poetically in your post. Interestingly, however, I have found that I enjoy myself more now socializing sober. Since my interest in going out deals primarily with interacting with the opposite sex, I have discovered that confidence has replaced whatever it was I was displaying previously was going out under the influence.
I don’t know if drinking will some day be in my plans again. It may; right now it just simply is not a financially responsible habit to reacquaint myself with.
I thank you for your post. You articulated many of the thoughts that I shared regarding the subject.
i circled 09/15/09 down on my calendar because that was when i decided i was going to quit drinking. the reason at the time was dietary – i wanted to lose weight and i know that alcohol slows down your metabolism. far be it for me to do anything but balls to the wall out there, i stopped drinking. at first i didn’t miss it. then when i’d go out to dinner with friends, they’d all share a bottle (or six) of wine, and i’m sitting there with my glass of water. WITH LEMON! i always felt socially awkward. the first party i went to shortly after that i was the only one there not drinking. as a matter of fact, i was the only one there not completely hammered. that wasn’t fun. now i’m not 100% on the wagon. i allow myself to have a glass of wine or a beer if i want one – because seriously – how can you live in florida in the summertime and NOT have a beer on a hot day?
Interesting. I often think that other people should cut down on the drinking. But maybe that’s just displacement. Or transference. Or …. something.
The bloated Grandma Kris bit was genius. Especially since I can recognize it as hyperbole at its finest.
I read this post days ago, thought about commenting, and some how just came back it.
I hope that this gives you what you need, and I admire you for doing it.
dude, raising children makes you drink because you worry. worry they aren’t smart enough, strong enough or wise to the bullshit.
I have to say, AFTER having children, I drink more and am more sane.
and end of the “When a Man Loves a Woman” scene.
sidenote: I’m proud of yous.
I’d of course seen you were on the wagon via Twitter, but hadn’t had a chance to come see why described so well. I should probably do this myself. Not probably, I should. One of these days. Maybe you’ll inspire me.
And I’m proud of you too. Oh, and what Gorillabuns said about drinking after having children.
I LOVE THIS! I didn’t know. Welcome to the wagon. It’s not so bad, but you wouldn’t know that about my attitude re: men. ;)
<3 you!
I very rarely surf the web and avoid social networking sites like the plague and so came across this by chance.
I find it amazing that so many people think and feel the same thing, although I’m not exactly sure why.
Either way I thought your piece was refreshing honest and certainly thought provoking.
I will offer one piece of advice if I may… I stopped drinking for two weeks once and when I next “got on it” found I had lost my ability to judge distances. SO the old reliable habit that men have of leaning your head on the wall when you have a piss went badly wrong – I was standing 3 foot away!!!
Have a good weekend.
This is always a saddest part. People know that drinking is dangerous for health yet they attracted to the few moments of pleasure. No one could help them except if they really want to quit. Enjoy your freedom in goodness. That will last and your soul will live.
Is there a connection between booze and blogging? Just sayin…
quit drinking? No way. Just switch to vodka/seltzer!
I just stumbled across you and I’m already in love with your wit and style. This was an amazing post. I felt like you were in my head, but saying it so much better, more cleanly, and with humor. It’s funny that you write about struggling to find the right word so very well. Imma go poke around your archives now.