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.