Sober Still (or, rather, not drunk)

Well, it’s been a month now (or 29 days) sans alcohol. Not a drink, a splash, or a twist. Nary a drop has passed these lips. I don’t think I miss it. I certainly haven’t experienced an enduring lust for wine or whatnot. I do have moments when I think “oh, a bit of Glenmorangie would be delightful right about now,” but these thoughts are brief and vanish as quickly as they arrive. Such moments usually have something to do with a raw throat; I expect I could justify a sip or two of whiskey with the “medicinal purposes” canard, but no. I do hope that some day I be able to enjoy a whiskey, a martini, or a fine cabernet now and then, but that must wait. Besides, you can’t truly enjoy a nice scotch with a raw throat.

This change was prompted by a therapist’s, perhaps overblown, concerns about my alcohol consumption undoubtedly, was excessive and approaching--if not arrived at--the prodigiousness of a Christopher Hitchens or a Richard Burton). In late January, I told her that I wished to stop drinking (admittedly, I was hungover at the time), and she, anxiously, asked me to see a doctor because, if I were to just stop, I’d experience hallucinations, seizures, heart irregularities, and so on. If she was trying to scare me, it worked--my mind filled with images of RayMilland in The Lost Weekend, and then switched over to Lee Remick in The Days of Wine and Roses (and I was Lee Remick!).

Like any fool with an Internet connection, I went home and Googled “alcohol withdrawal,” which resulted in lists of frightening withdrawal symptoms. Holy cow, I could die if I quit the booze! Inspired by fear, I visited an MD, who promptly gave me a prescription drug and scheduled a week-long tapering off, and that was that. Actually, the tapering off was a bit of a joke: from one bottle of wine, to ¾ of a bottle, to 2/3 of a bottle, to half of a bottle, to two glasses. After five days I shifted to beer (two beers one day, a single beer the next). Ultimately, rather than a gradual process, the “tapering” schedule created an abrupt rupture in my habits. Even so, it served its purpose (I got weaned!).

I don’t whether the tapering worked because it staved off withdrawals or because it forced me to change my evening rituals (note: I don’t miss the drinking, but I do miss my rituals. Peculiar). I hated the medication he gave me, so I quit that after a week. Since then--nothing. Well, far too much coffee and tea, but nothing fermented. So then, I’m sober. Whatever that means.
I didn’t join AA, nor did I visit other addiction groups. This is not because I distrust their methods (indeed, I researched several groups, including AA, which prove effective for many people). I simply didn’t want to be labeled as an “addict” with a “disease” to grapple with the remainder of my days. Although I willingly confess to abusing alcohol, and I recognize my tendency to self-medicate with booze, I don’t see it as something uncurable that can only be put into remission.

The upshot: you can stop drinking without all kinds of accompanying psychosis / illness, you can do it without meetings, and you can do it without declaring yourself under the control of alcohol.

Disclaimer: This ‘blog post is not intended to dismiss anyone whose experiences with alcohol have been emotionally or physically traumatic. Nor is it intended to dismiss organizations like Alcoholics Anonymous. Rather, these are my experiences; moreover, who knows--maybe I was on the cusp of something more full-blown and caught it in time.

A Note of Appreciation

'Lo all!

Sincere thanks for the comments and good wishes you've emailed. Right back at 'cha.
S G

Lost December?

I last posted just as my thrice-yearly busy season (three weeks) commenced. I followed the completion of my busy season with a four week drunk.

I wasn't drunk all of the time, but very nearly. Part of that was the annual holiday hedonism--"Wahey! It's Christmas!" But most of it, to be honest, was that I didn't have to go to the office. So overindulging, if not justified, was acceptable. right? Bollox. I didn't get a lick of at-home work done over the course of those four weeks. A symptom: I've undermined something I've worked terribly hard for over the past four years. It's all going down the drain.

I've written in the past about my tendency to overdrink. I've been a heavy drinker since I turned 21. I never drank regularly in my 20s, but when I did drink, it was until I couldn't see straight. I functioned well enough (excellent student and employee). Easily qualified as youthful excess. Later, I moved to another country, one where more-than-moderate drinking was perfectly acceptable. Big mistake. I continued to drink heavily--but more often. At the time, I still functioned well enough. In fact, I seemed to thrive..

I 've built up quite a tolerance. Beginning about six years ago (and excepting the occasional day or weekend), I've been either "tiddly" or drunk every night of the week. For the past four years, I might have the rare evening of two cocktails (for example, two double vodka martinis), but it's mostly been either four-to-six dark ales or a bottle (most recently 1 3/4 bottles) of red wine a night. I"m talking every night, including worknights. Sometimes (albeit rarely), the beer or wine wasn't enough (e.g., I ran out of beer or wine), and I'd supplement with a spirit. It's a wonder I haven't died in my sleep a la John Bonham.

I've been lucky in that I've never blacked out, never had a medical emergency (God knows how I've escaped that). Neither have I ever woken up in the morning (or afternoon) and reached for an eye-opener. It's not that I had "rules" about drinking, I just happened to drink in the evenings after I'd completed my day's business. But I would put a hell of a lot of liquor away in an evening.

I have put myself in numerous risky, seriously dangerous situations; I'm too ashamed and frightened to think about the "what ifs." I also have alienated a few people because of my behavior when drunk. But I've mostly been able to mask my problem drinking (at least, I think so).

I don't know if I've hit "rock bottom" (whatever that is), but I'm sick and tired of waking up with a hangover--no matter what degree of hangover it is. I am terrified of losing my faculties. And, as mentioned above, I'm undermining something I've worked toward for the past four years.

Two weeks ago I just burst out and told my therapist about my average alcohol intake. She put me onto a doctor immediately. He arranged a schedule for tapering off, and he prescribed a low dosage anti-anxiety medication. My last drink: one beer on Thursday, 31 January. I think the meds have helped because outside of bouts of crying and/or irritability I seem to have done okay. But I'm afraid of what might happen in the upcoming days--seizures? DTs? Bats with babies faces? etc. Also, sneaky little thoughts are beginning to surface--justifications as to how and why I'm not an alcoholic. But I know I am.

So here's a new adventure. Sober Girl.