I stopped drinking. April 30, 2022. I didn’t take shots at work or take my shifter home that night. I had no plan. Zero plan. I was a daily drinker. And, as a bartender in a very lax environment, it was not only overlooked but, encouraged by most members and leaders in the club. I just decided, with nothing behind it but a hangover from my birthday, to not drink that day. And then the next. I sat in my bed after work that second day and thought, I wonder if I could go three….to sum up my life at that time.
140 days later I left on vacation. I did what? I made it 140 days? With no judicial interference? I had already purchased the drink package on the ship. I knew I would be drinking all week. That’s fine. No big deal. I had planned it. And I had just done 140 days like it was nothing. That’s crazy! For me, at least.
I am trying to decide in real time if this is about those 140 days, or about my relationship with alcohol for the years preceding. I suppose it all goes hand in hand.
I was so fortunate to have a partner who decided if I wasn’t drinking, neither was he. Very fortunate. I know many don’t have that. It wasn’t a hard sell, to be fair. We fought all the time, and too many times my car had sleepovers at the bar while he dragged his sleepy, angry, frustrated ass down there to pick my drunk ass home….Yes. From work. Am I painting a pretty clear picture? I don’t think I even told him I hadn’t had a drink until I hit day 4 or 5. More out of shock than anything. A week came around and I told him I wanted to keep going for whatever length of time I was capable. He was more than willing to go along with me.
About two weeks in, (I live alone) I woke up and walked into my bathroom naked. I stopped, furled my brow, and wondered if I was really seeing what I was seeing. My tummy was considerably flatter. Well fuck! I don’t know if I can go a whole 30 days, but this is awesome. I’m gonna try! Motivation kicked in like a mother and the changes were incredible. Now the dreams for those first two weeks were crazy. But, that settled down. Sleep was amazing. Mornings were amazing. I got my diet cleaned up. And all those clothes tucked back in the furthest reaches of my closet for the last several years, finally had their day in the sun. Literally! Summer was a perfect time to be feeling this great. Hell! I even got so bold as to set a goal. I am gonna keep going until the cruise. And I did!
There were other things, little needling things that started showing up, too. I paid them very little mind most of the time. Convinced myself that it was me. It’s much harder to be around drunk people when you’re sober. And drunk people are my living. So, I just blame myself for being cranky and judgy, annoy the crap out of Joe each night with tales of irritating drunk people and the asinine things they say, and count my money. I tell myself I need healing for being self-righteous. These are all really great people. It’s just me going through some things. Clarity! What a bitch! Am I right? But no! I love bartending. It’s what I do and I am great at it. It’s just me adjusting is all. I’ll be bartending ’til I’m 80. I love it!
Those asinine things drunks say started to stick with me. In a deeper place than just the surface level annoyance place. Stay with me here. That was a dumb sentence fragment.
Seeds were being planted, and I didn’t know it. My brain is a wild place to live anyway. So when the response is, “No one else is here, so no one will know” when I turned down a shot at work ( from someone I was already seeing major red flags from) it didn’t seem unusual that I screwed up my face and got angry. What the fuck was she even saying? What does me not drinking have to do with anyone else? *seed*… The same reaction when I was asked a week later if I had gotten a DUI.
My venting sessions… ok, let’s be honest, bitch fests with Joe after work were taking on a new tone as well. All of the personal attacks about people’s character, the shit talking and judging and ridiculing (all in the privacy of my home and relationship) was still there. But, more questions were coming up, too. Overarching philosophical questions about the culture we live in. I am an ass with a bit of a superiority complex at times, no doubt. But big picture here! What the hell is happening and what is wrong with these people? My sobriety must be a fake face I am putting on for onlookers?? No one just quits poisoning themselves unless the law tells them they have to?? And why, when I say I am not drinking, does “just one! please please please. Come on!!” seem like the best approach?? And don’t even get me started on the subtle ridicule and condescension.
I’ll share a conversation I has in January and then pick this back up tomorrow, I think. Kind of the clencher that would send me on a journey I didn’t see coming.
I got to talking to a table. In this case, six people. All best friends of about a million years. Got talking about me not drinking, specifically. One or two of them thought it would be interesting to try a 30-day hiatus. As a group, they proceeded to go through every month of the year and why they couldn’t. Birthdays, holidays, vacations, etc. All twelve were out of the question. Well now, there’s a new sensation…. sadness. Holy shit! Was that empathy? Mixed in with a little bit of disgust, judgement, confusion, and self-righteousness… sure as shit! I felt a little sorry for them. They had even found a new beach for their yearly group trip to Florida where they could haul their booze right down to the water. No more inconvenience of walking up to the bar.
I think that was the first night I told Joe, “I don’t want that life”.
The Hermit's Lamp 