Musings at 365

It is both hard and easy for me to believe I have now gone a year without drinking alcohol. I had struggled for so long, wanting to either cut back or quit entirely, I thought it would never happen. But once I flipped that last switch, it came easy. Quitting felt like laying down a heavy burden, alleviating my stress, my dissonance, my effort. It felt like freedom. It still does.

How could something so hard be so easy? 48-year-old me just didn’t see it. Actually 15-year-old to 48-year-old didn’t see it. I couldn’t fathom a life without alcohol, without Chateau Neuf du Pape, without Canebreak, without Ketel One. I couldn’t visualize dinner parties without cocktails, beach trips without frozen margaritas, or unwinding on the couch without a glass of chardonnay. I did, however, know what I was tired of: headaches, fatigue, anxiety, and monotony. What I suffered from was lack of vision. Alcohol was a haze that had been blanketing my life for a very long time. I can’t say I didn’t have fun while drinking it, or that it didn’t open certain doors in my life. However, “IT”, capital I, could, by that measure, assume some credit for my confidence, my humor, my successes and my joy. If a singer has to take a few shots before going on stage are they truly facing the crowd in authenticity? Bravery by the mouthful isn’t the same as bravery from the heart. True also of humor, success and joy.

Well I’m 365 days into sobriety and for once in my life have some hindsight about the other side. I’ve had dinner parties and beach trips and plenty of evenings on the couch. All perfectly enjoyable without the booze! I craved alcohol for the first 30 days or so; the cue would come and I would purposefully address it and fill the void with something else. Divert. Divert. That first thirty days was the most work.

At 365 I can honestly say I don’t have cravings. I have thoughts about saying “Fuck it, I’ll have a drink with an old college friend” or “What the hell, Abel and I should just get silly and waste a Sunday afternoon hanging by the pool drinking frozen drinks.” But I don’t. I have the sneaking suspicion it would lead me back to a daily dose of Chardonnay. It might not, my perspective has changed so much. But it might, and I’m not willing to risk it. This is so nice, being on the other side, feeling secure and calm.

Life is a little more sedate without alcohol. Funny, right? Because alcohol is supposed to sedate you. What I liked about alcohol was more the get-up-and-go it gave me. I found it helped let my adventurous side out, that is, when I worked it properly and wasn’t reckless with myself and others (which in many ways I always was). So at this point, it’s about mustering in myself the gumption to go out into the world on my own, find the brave actor inside that alcohol played for so long. I also am working on acknowledging that creativity comes from a higher source and works through me without lubrication. When you have used a crutch for so long, it is a process learning how to walk on your own.

It ain’t over yet. Sobriety brings clarity, and with that comes the realization that there is work to be done if goals are to be met. New, fresh, 50-year-old goals. It’s all about strengthening those newfound crutchless legs, straightening that back to walk out on stage without the shot, taking deep breaths to accept the world as it comes. What a joy to take credit for all those things.

If anybody is out there reading this and can relate - you can do all of this too. It’s hard, but it’s also easy. You can do it. You can do it. You can do it. You can absolutely fucking do it.