Reason #6 To Feel Alive

I didn’t recognize myself anymore. It wasn’t only the emotional roller coaster that I wrote about in reason #2, it was also that I had taken on a few new identities in a the previous decade, and I didn’t know who I really was anymore.

I had become a wife, a mother, a teacher, and these three roles pretty much consumed my whole day. I got the kids out the door, went to work, came home, maybe got some exercise, did the family evening routine, and I had a glass of wine or two or three to unwind. The problem was this didn’t leave any time or mental space for the me outside of these roles. I felt lost in plain sight. Not only were my days chock-full, there was a depressing same-ness to the routine that felt smothering.  I didn’t know who I was anymore, and it was getting harder and harder to muster the energy to keep going.

What surprised me when I  cut out alcohol was all of the time that I got back. Time seemed to shift and open. Not only time, but my energy and desire to actually do something different returned. Coincidentally (if you believe in coincidences, which the longer I live the less I do…) about a month into my alcohol-free experiment, I decided to participate in a 100 day project on Instagram. The project was introduced to me by a woman I met in an online sobriety group. The malnourished artist in me wanted to play, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Knowing what I know about practice leading to progress, I decided that I would do a simple drawing each day and post it. 

This project both terrified and excited me, and I hadn’t felt that in a long time. I had no idea if I would actually complete 100 drawings, but the stakes were low and I had this new found space in my schedule to give it a try. I still remember the nervous energy rushing through my hands as a hit post on that first drawing. (The drawing posted above 👆) What happened next surprised me in a few ways. I started to find community around this creative outlet, I actually completed 100 drawings in 100 days - who knew! and I started to feel like I was alive again. 

What I also know now this project gave me in early sobriety, was something to focus on. It gave my brain the opportunity to create new neural pathways, which have transformed how I think and feel about alcohol. I was able to move from the place of “I can’t drink” to "I don't want to.” Working with a coach supported this process as well. The drawings were often the very last thing I did each day,  and posting daily forced me to let go of perfectionism and to get over the embarrassment of sharing and being seen. 

Most importantly, I felt like there was now proof of my life. Something that I did each day, just for me. It planted the seed and also began the practice of making art that has become a huge part of my life today.

Reason #5 To fix myself

This is a tricky one. I believe in the continuous evolution of the self. That our natural state is one of flux. They say the only thing constant is change, and we are not immune to this. The desire to change, the ability to adapt, and the idea that we are in a perpetual state of becoming is beautiful to me. The desire to stay a certain age, a certain way, to be in a fixed state or that there is a striving for the perfect state, and once we reach that,  we focus on figuring out how to stay there, that goes against nature.

That being said, there is a difference between supporting our evolution, and a deep desire to fix ourselves. The underlying idea there is that we are somehow broken. My desire to change was motivated by a belief that there was something wrong with me fundamentally and that if I could figure out what it was, and fix it, that I would be cured.  This is a lonely and painful place to be.

More specifically, I wanted to fix my feelings. I wanted to fix my sadness, my loneliness, my boredom. I wanted to fix my job, my marriage and my kids. These are the reasons I borrowed piles of self help books from the library, listened non-stop to self-help podcasts and invested money in coaching and programs. 

I don’t believe anymore that I am broken, or that I need fixing, and I don’t think that you, dear reader, are broken either. What I now know, is that we all hurt, we all struggle, and that there is actually wisdom to be found in the struggle. The struggles are real, no matter how good things look on the outside. These hard feelings need to be acknowledged, felt, expressed, and can be a rich source of guidance as to what our next steps might be.

I used to be afraid of my rage, my sadness, my disappointment. I saw them as proof that I had made mistakes, been vain or arrogant or selfish. I had followed all the rules (mostly). I went to college and found a man, I had a noble profession (public high school teacher), I had friends and lived in a safe community. I had two kids in two years and was a stay at home mom. I had resources and privilege. I ate well and worked out and even dabbled in meditation. And yet, no number of gratitude lists or affirmations could cure me of the discontent that simmered under the surface. Despite following pretty closely the Patriarchal Path to Happiness, I was pretty sure something was broken and needed fixing.

Taking a long break from drinking wasn’t my first attempt at fixing myself. It was a choice made out of deep frustration and surrender. It was something like “Fine, I will try this. ” It was in the category of “might help, won’t hurt.” And much to my chagrin, it did help me find some peace. And from this place, what has transpired has been unexpected and fulfilling in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. I am still evolving, don’t get me wrong, but there is now a deep understanding that I am going to be ok, and that there is so much more here for me than I ever would have believed. 

Reason #4 Scary Situations

I used to be  quite proud of my ability to consume alcohol. I thought it was a testament to my sturdiness or my bravado or my strength in some way. I derived satisfaction from the fact that I could chug beers with the guys, that I could “hold my liquor” - or so it appeared. I wasn’t one of those weaklings who would get tipsy after a glass of wine. No, I could go the distance! 

The truth was, however, that I was a day-after-hangover from-hell kinda girl. But it was worth it! I used to think. Sure, the end of the night was kinda fuzzy, but whatever, this was normalized with my friend group and wasn’t any reason for concern. In fact, it was part of the day-after-put-the-pieces-back-together fun.

Then I had kids. And being hungover on the weekend while trying to keep the kids from killing themselves or each other really pounded in the dark shame and feelings of loser-dome. These kids, they just have so much damn lust for life! Every day they want to play and explore and be rambunctious. Every. Damn. Day!

So I tried to keep the hangovers to a minimum. I tried to moderate, to alternate with water, to set limits. And it worked, pretty well, most of the time. Except when it didn’t.

The problem was, I didn’t seem to be able to predict when my limits would work, and when some part of me would decide, “Nope, tonight we are going for it!” All my plans and moderation would fly out the window and then it was ON. There is a part of me that wants to say yes, to EVERYTHING. She would rise up, take over, and I would have no control over what would happen after that. 

I love this rebellious part of me, she truly does not give a fuck. And she has her role to play, but putting her in charge of my alcohol consumption always led to disaster.

What started to scare me the most was the loss of control and the unpredictability of when she would take over. And the older I got, the consequences seemed to be growing. Not only would I curse myself the whole next day, and maybe the day after that too,  but I would get into weird and potentially dangerous situations, I would have no recollection of who I said what to, or sometimes, how I got home. These missing pieces of my night would compound with the hangovers and grow into anxiety, shame and embarrassment.

I hated the hangovers, and the anxiety and the self-loathing, but I really hated not being able to predict or plan my consumption. I hated not knowing if tonight would be one of those nights that would take days to get over. I guess I hated the loss of control over how I would feel, or what I would do, or who I might offend. 

When I decided to take a break, to figure out a new way, my confidence in my ability to care for myself started to grow. In fact, that rebellious part of me, she found out that saying no to drinking in a drinking culture was in itself an act of defiance. She loved how it boggled people’s minds, confused or disarmed them. And she loves waking up without a hangover. It never gets old.

Reason #3 energy

The third reason I decided to take a break from drinking was my energy. I was always tired. 

I woke up tired, I was dragging myself through my days, and I couldn’t wait to get back into bed at night. My first thought in the morning was “I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.”

While I felt grateful for so much in my life, I was so tired all the time that I wasn’t looking forward to, or excited, or even interested, in all of the things I had to do each day. This lack of life satisfaction, while knowing that I hold so much privilege, created a dense shame in me. Who was I to ask for help? Who was I to struggle? What right did I have to be unhappy when I had so much good in my life?

You know that question on the mental health questionnaire? Have you lost interest in things that you used to enjoy? YES YES YES, Yes I had.

I felt like my energy was leaking out all over the place. I couldn’t contain it, no matter how often I worked out, or tried to rest, or  tried to organize or simplify, I felt like a wrung out sponge. This was bigger than simply taking a mental health day off from work or adding in more B vitamins.

I realized that I couldn’t change everyone and everything else in my life (don’t worry, I tried) in order to make myself feel better, or to find some peace. This had to be an inside job.

Since I had been sober-curious for a while at this point, I thought taking a long break from alcohol might help. It seemed impossible, undesirable even, but I had exhausted all other options and this was something within my control. Alcohol, we all know, is a depressant after all. Removing it from the mix was something I was willing - remember the power of willingness - to try. If it wasn’t working I could always go back, it wasn’t going anywhere.

I later learned that while alcohol only stays in the bloodstream for 24 hours or so, it actually takes the body a full week to return to baseline. This means, if you are even drinking moderately/ or just on the weekends, you are never actually experiencing yourself without its influence. 

The anxiety that many of us use alcohol to quell? The unrest, the inability to find calm? It could very well be a symptom of detoxification from alcohol itself. When we take a long break, we get to rediscover who we are on our own. It feels scary, but the thing I hadn’t anticipated when I started this long break was all of the support that would rush in to help me be successful. We don’t know until we actually do it, what it will be like.

Reasons I Took a Break #2

The second reason I decided to take a break from drinking was in search of a reprieve from the emotional rollercoaster of my daily life. I was struggling. My moods were up and down, I felt like my emotional state was being dictated by a force outside myself. I had no control. While I was doing my best to remain calm:  I was exercising regularly, eating ok, and practicing some mindfulness, I could only find peace when I was alone, or before everyone woke up in the morning. Any peace I could find would quickly vanish as soon as someone needed something from me, or said something in the wrong tone.

The common advice would be to have a date night with my husband, get out of the house, blow off some steam, but oftentimes these dates would end in tears (mine) and frustration (his) and lead to rambling arguments with no particular point to be made. I was angry, sad, and frustrated and as much as I tried to focus on gratitude and taking care of myself, this would all fly out of me as soon as a drink or two were on board. I didn’t know what to do with these hard feelings, and when I tried to share them it never went well. In fact it would only add another layer of shame, guilt and blame on top of it all. Good times.

I knew that there was some validity to these alcohol fueled emotional outbursts, but I could see that it didn’t really help to firehose it onto someone else. I could imagine that taking a break from drinking could possibly help. I couldn’t change everyone around me, but cutting out alcohol seemed like it might help

And it did.

The feelings didn’t go away, they aren’t meant to anyway. But something happened to my ability to feel them, and to get curious about them, and to allow them to be. I didn’t need to fix them, I needed to acknowledge them.

I used to get so frustrated at bedtime with my kids. All I wanted was for the day to be over, for a moment of peace. I thought a glass of wine in the evening would help me be more relaxed with them (isn’t that what we’re told?) but honestly, without my  brain screaming in the background for another hit of dopamine, I was able to be present with my kids through the evening routine. I learned to walk away and let them figure things out instead of hovering over them and micromanaging their toothpaste consumption. I didn’t need them to be asleep in the same way that I did before. I was ok either way.

I few months into my sober experiment, I asked my husband if he noticed any changes in me and he said yeah, “You haven’t flown off the handle in a while,” and he seemed relieved. Huh, I thought, he’s right. 

Why I took a break from drinking

I never planned to quit drinking. But I did plan, a lot, to take a long break. It wasn’t a decision I necessarily entered into with enthusiasm and gusto. And when I look back at my journals I had been thinking a break from drinking would be a good idea for many many years before I made a plan.

One reason I was successful, I believe, is because I got support and I saturated myself with stories, information and resources. I never in a million years would have believed that I would prefer not drinking, but I had to experience it in order to develop my desire to keep going.

Even considering it felt impossible, scary, and produced a whole lot of questions:

• How will I have fun?

• -Will my friends still like me?

• -Will I still be invited out?

• -How will I relax or handle stress?

• -Who would I be?

• Would I discover that I had made too many mistakes and realize I needed to change everything in my life?

The first step, I think, is willingness. 

The year leading up to my 43rd birthday was hard. I was frustrated with my teaching job, my sons were 8 and 10 and I was exhausted. And while on the outside my life looked great, on the inside I felt stuck, sad, lost and so so so tired. I didn’t know who I was, what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I had lost my sense of wonder and possibility. Each day felt like a slog with no end in sight. 

Meanwhile, I had been voraciously borrowing quit-lit from the library and listening to sobriety podcasts, privately peeping in on the lives of others who had cut out alcohol and were thriving.

The summer before I had picked up a copy of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and had been writing “morning pages” pretty much every day. This process of writing out longhand three pages of stream of consciousness first thing each day had started to loosen things up. Unknowingly, I was learning the power of daily practice. 

For the next 7 days I am going to be sending you an email outlining the reason I took a long break, in the hopes that sharing my story will resonate with you, and to be honest, that it will inspire you to join me on a 100 day journey into a life without alcohol. That you will be willing to see for yourself what your life is like when you remove just one thing. 

Please forward this onto anyone you know who might also be interested.For the next 7 days I am going to be sending you an email outlining the reasons I took a long break, in the hopes that sharing my story will resonate with you, and to be honest, that it will inspire you to join me on a 100 day journey into a life without alcohol. That you will be willing to see for yourself what your life is like when you remove just one thing. 

Please forward this onto anyone you know who might also be thinking about their drinking.