Something that has surprised me about quitting drinking has been the cravings. I guess it is something I’d expect for a textbook alcoholic, but for a useless one like me, I’ve been surprised.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, while drinking I never experienced desperate cravings for alcohol. It was when I decided to drink that my problems became all too apparent. I wasn’t compelled to have the first drink, but I was then on a slippery slope. Like an icy hill covered in jagermeister and cheap lager.
However, since stopping I have experienced real, wrenching cravings for drink. Fantasising about getting wasted, feeling that warm glow. This I guess is more confirmation going teetotal was a good idea. On a few occasions I have been really close to just going and taking a drink. Most of my friends still don’t know I’m off the booze, or they don’t know the reason why. It would be so easy to just jack it in and get hammered. There are occasions where, “no I’ll have a diet coke” are the hardest words to say.
Maybe things would be easier if there were more people I felt accountable to. I still have the problem of having to justify my decision to those people I have told. It’s an odd situation being the one with the drinking problem persuading those you love that you have a problem. That’s not how it goes in films.
So I’m battling on. It’s tougher than expected, but I’m trying to focus on the positives.
I wanted to be more positive in this post. Bliss is a bit of an overstatement, but certain things about not drinking make me really happy. I’m finding things a bit tough at the moment, so when better to focus on the upsides. (I know right, this guy sounds like a happy clapper loser!)
One thing that makes me smile just thinking about it, is that for over 2 months now I haven’t wasted a second in the midst of a hangover or post-drinking guilt. Nine weekends where I’ve not ruined my time off work by hiding like an agoraphobic hermit. I’ve been on holiday, climbed mountains, played tennis, applied for new jobs, and volunteered at a charity. I might have done some of this stuff if I hadn’t stopped drinking but I wouldn’t have done as much of it, and I would have completed each task like a t-rex trying to change a bed sheet.
My fitness has definitely improved as well. I’ve lost about a stone in the last couple of months, and obviously I’m now near to complete physical perfection. Just the other day some Japanese tourists here for the Edinburgh festival stopped to take photos (although I may have been standing with the Castle in the background). I enjoy running a lot, and since going alcohol free I managed to complete my goal of running 10km in under 45 minutes. Sub 40 is the new challenge…
I’ve also started to gain more confidence in social settings without relying on alcohol. One of the things I loved about drinking was the way it lets you suppress your inhibitions. But I’ve started to feel less inhibited without it. I love being the centre of attention (yeah I’m that guy…) but I used to need to be drunk to feel comfortable in the lime light. Now a little less so. Basically I am starting to make a tit of myself on purpose instead of when I can barely stand.
All in all, there’s a lot of good things to focus on. I’m just going to have to come back and read this post when I start to forget it…
Something that has evolved in my time not drinking (over 2 months now by the way), is my feelings towards those people who can drink responsibly. You know, those people who possess the superpower to turn down a drink, to go home when they’re tipsy, and not black out and throw their own vomit on the roof.
At first I was very jealous (DISCLAIMER: I am still a bit…). Sitting in a beer garden enjoying a pint in the sun, a gin and tonic in the garden (reserved for visits to my parents’s house), a pint after work. These are the kind of things I would like to be able to enjoy. Someone who can sip a whisky and appreciate it’s subtle smokey flavours, drink a drink for it’s taste, I’m jealous of them.
The thing is, and the reason I am slowly moving away from jealousy, is that this kind of drinking isn’t actually what I miss. I miss, and crave, getting very very drunk. You can’t appreciate the flavour of any drink when you’re out of the game, and drinking with your parents is a very risky game for an alcoholic (a bit like juggling knives and embarrassing secrets blindfolded).
I am still jealous of people who don’t have a drinking problem. Not because they can drink (responsible drinking looks really boring), but because they can fully take part in any social event, they don’t have to make excuses, and they don’t have the hassle of trying to quit. As much as I joke around I have found, and continue to find, quitting drinking very difficult. Just there on Friday I was hugely tempted to drink, the words I’ll have a pint were so close to escaping from my lips. I thought as far as how to disguise the fact I’d been drinking from my girlfriend. Luckily I pulled through.
I get asked why I’m not drinking a lot. I mean every time I’m in a situation where alcohol is available. It can be a tricky question.
As I’ve previously discussed some people get told the truth. The inner sanctum of trust currently consists of Mum, Dad, sister, girlfriend, and best friend. Only these lucky few have been told the truth, have been trusted with this shining nugget of information. Everyone else gets told a lie.
When I first quit drinking I asked the internet for suggestions of what to tell people. Many answers came back, from health reasons, to allergies, fitness drives, to just saying “I don’t feel like it today.” Along with these responses the overwhelming opinion was that I wouldn’t need these excuses, that no one would really care or notice. They said the only reason I thought it was a big deal was that I was an alcoholic. Normal people, sitting in the garden having a small glass of chardonnay, wouldn’t think about it for a second.
The internet is stupid.
I always get asked. It’s not like I hang round with a bunch of alcoholics either. I am Scottish, my friends are Scottish. Scottish people like a drink. In fact I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that 90% of social life in Scotland is based around alcohol. The second you sit down sipping a wee Irn Bru (those from further a field should google this tastiest of drinks), the questions start. I normally take one of two approaches, either “Just don’t feel like it” or “I’m on a new medicine for *insert minor ailment here*”
The not in the mood approach produces a reaction much like if you said the Nazis had a few good ideas. The medicine one is a safer bet. Then of course you have the issue of correctly pitching the severity of the illness. You have to make sure it’s severe enough that you really need the medicine, but not too severe that they will worry, or that eyebrows will be raised if you haven’t shuffled off this mortal coil by two weeks on Friday. You’ll also want to avoid the icky illnesses, for example the shits, boils, warts, or anything to do with your dangly bits.
I really do wish there was a culture of acceptance around not drinking. When someone says they’ve quit smoking no one ever says “Why?!?” or “Oh go on! Just have the one.” It’s an annoyance that I am learning to deal with.
A lot of the discussions about alcoholism revolve around whether it is a case of nature or nurture. It is something I have given some thought to. Basically, can I blame it all on my genes or my parents*?
My gut reaction is to say that it isn’t genetic, that we aren’t born this way. It seems too much involved with culture and what relationship we have with alcohol. You don’t see entire alcoholic families, my sister can drink in a controlled way, she can say no to a second drink just fine.
On the other hand, a lot of things we consider to have nothing to do with genetics are massively influenced by them. For example political preference has been shown to be hugely influenced by genetics. It all comes down to the fact that a huge slice of our personality is inherited, in our DNA, from our parents. Just as personality can shape who we vote for, maybe it can affect our preponderance to getting blootered and vomiting up the wall.
For me a combination of attention seeking, wanting to be part of the gang, occasional social awkwardness and a propensity to get bored compel me to drink (I think). If these attributes can be explained by my genetic make up, then maybe my drinking problem can be too. If you think this all sounds like a failure to accept I simply have rubbish will power, then check mate, I can blame that on my DNA too!
The fact I have never been able to drink responsibly would possibly bolster the nature argument. The first time I drank unsupervised was at a friends house party. I was 15 and had managed to secure eight cans of Castlemaine XXXX. (I am still quite proud I avoided Fosters in favour of a real Australian beer.) I drank them all, and it goes without saying, was wasted. I fell off my seat and apparently pretended to swim across the kitchen floor as my delightfully mature friends threw glasses of water over me… My grandad was an alcoholic, maybe I got it from him.
In reality I think the simple answer is that it is in fact a mix of nature and nurture. Like most things in life it can’t be explained by one factor. I think probably some people are born with a predisposition to being an alcoholic, a genetic element that can become active if the right circumstances present. Unfortunately for me I hit that perfect storm.
At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what makes people alcoholics, the treatment doesn’t change, we just have to stop drinking.
*Please note the only thing I really blame my parents for is not buying me a toy gun when I was a kid. My mum thought it would make me violent. To be fair to her I’ve never shot anyone, so it must have worked.
This post is somewhat related to the last one. It is another problem with not fitting the alcoholic stereotype. Although unlike having to tell your mother that alcohol sends you cray cray, it is more of an internal problem.
Since accepting that I have a drinking problem there has been a niggling question troubling me. Am I a ‘real’ alcoholic, or does labelling myself one belittle other people’s more serious problems? This doubt is very unhelpful when the booze cravings are biting. It makes it much easier to think “Hey, why not? Have a drink, go on.” Of course if my mind was functioning rationally at these moments I’d think, “Wait a minute… I’m REALLY craving a drink (Please note: in this instance “a drink”= getting really fucked up), I am an alcoholic! Yay!”
The internet will tell you that being an alcoholic is all about what happens when you take that first drink. My fellow problem drinkers will know, that for the likes of us, what happens is our entire being screams for more alcohol. Even knowing this I still sometimes feel I’m making a big deal out of nothing. That I’m being an hypochondriac attention seeker. It’s a feeling I have to battle.
On a side note, my doctor sister who I’ve previously mentioned, once described me as the opposite of a hypochondriac. I’d left an infected cut so long without going to the doctors, I had to rush to hospital with a serious blood infection. When I asked her what the name for that was, she said, “Oh I dunno, probably an idiot.”
*Warning this post is about to get heartfelt and serious again*
If anyone reading this is wondering whether being a binge drinker “counts” as an alcoholic, you should know it definitely does. If you drink to get wasted, if you wake up feeling depressed, if you crave getting hammered again, then there is a good chance you have a problem. But most importantly if you think you have a problem, you should do something about it. No one else knows exactly what’s going on in your head. (That message is really 95% for myself.)
P.S- the hardest thing about this post? Spelling the bloody title. Looks weird doesn’t it?
P.P.S- Is P.S even the way you add an after thought to a blog post?
One of the problems with being a binge drinking alcoholic, apart from small matter of the carnage it causes in your life, is that people don’t necessarily realise you have a problem. Sure your friends in the pub might notice you get wasted, but they might not piece together the pattern. Plus they can’t see the way your brain reacts to that first drink and instantly screams for more, or the emotional wreck you are the next day.
If the people you drink with don’t realise then what are the chances that the people you don’t will? I talk to my mum about everything (I know I’m cool huh?), so when I was facing up to really having a problem I chatted to her about it. The problem was I had to start by convincing her I really was an alcoholic. So she saw me get wasted at my cousin’s birthday, but hell she was doing shots with me, and she saw me get mad with it at my sister’s party, but she didn’t realise that’s how I drank every night out. People have a preconceived idea about what an alcoholic is, and I don’t fit it.
Same story with my girlfriend, although she had a better idea as I live with her. When I told my sister, a recently qualified doctor, she “discreetly” asked me alcoholic assessment questions… I passed. The issue is that you need these people to help spur you on and offer support. You need them to not offer you a drink or try and get you to have one with them. You need them to realise the severity of the situation. I’m still not sure they do.
A more dangerous problem of course is that I need to remind myself I have a serious drinking problem. When you need to convince other people that you do, it makes you question it yourself. The worse thing you can say to an alcoholic? “Ah, you weren’t all that bad.”
So I’ve written about why I drank. For balance, and to avoid corrupting impressionable minds I should probably discuss why I decided to stop.
There are many reasons why I chose to ditch the drink. There are of course practical, tangible reasons. I was spending all my money and the only thing I had to show for it was the hangovers. Alcohol makes you fat. Hangovers were robbing me of my weekends. I was waking up with bumps and bruises. Hangovers suck. Did I mention hangovers?
I could have handled all of that though. What really put the brakes on was the emotional effect it was having on me. Waking up on a saturday morning I would be overcome with shame. I would just want to disappear, never have to see anyone who might have seen me the night before. Walking down the street I would feel deep paranoia, every set of eyes I glimpsed through the foggy hangover haze would burn holes in me. I had the strong feeling that anyone and everyone I passed could be someone I embarrassed myself in front of the night before. So I wouldn’t go out. For days I’d lie in bed with a dark ball of depression gnawing at my stomach. Drinking till you black out messes with your head.
Too many times I would rollover in the morning and ask my girlfriend, “Did I do anything bad last night?” Too often I would text friends who had been out with me, making idle chit chat to see if they let slip something terrible I had done. Then comes Monday morning, walking into work and hearing the dreaded words, “You were wasted the other night man!” There isn’t much worse than hearing a story of drunken antics that you missed out on, then finding out you’re the main character. When you see someone you know and hide, because you know you spoke to them drunk, something has gone wrong.
Every weekend for me became a dark pit of depression. Black, grey and miserable. The only way out seeming to be having a drink.
I was ruining my reputation, my self esteem and putting relationships in jeopardy. That’s why I decided to stop, that’s why I had to stop, and that’s why, even though it’s not been that long, I feel so much happier.
Only the most eagle eyed, sharp witted and observant among you will have spotted my muddled tenses of the verb to drink. I can declare that it is currently 45 days since I last drank. I think I settled on “drink/drank” for the title of the last post because it has not been long enough that it really feels past tense. When you hear someone say “When I drank…”, it sounds like the words of an alcoholic long into recovery.
So I’m on the wagon. This is my second time attempting to stop for good. About a year ago I fell off the proverbial horse drawn vehicle and I’ve only just managed to clamber back up the side. Last time I tricked myself into thinking that because I managed to stop I didn’t really have a problem. I thought that with time I would have broken my old drinking habits, that I could be a responsible drinker now. I couldn’t. You see the problem is that I drink to get drunk, very drunk. Having one or two doesn’t really doing anything for me. I don’t drink for the taste. I once went to a beer festival with my friends, they discussed the flavours of the beer while I danced the macarena without a sound track.
I’m finding things harder this time around; probably because last time I knew I would cave at some point. I’m experiencing cravings, obsessing about alcohol, and fantasising about getting drunk. I’m having to keep myself very distracted (that’s part of the reason I started this blog.) I do also truly know that I can’t drink responsibly and that I’m happier off it, and that’s a real positive. Things get difficult when I’m bored, and during my old witching hours (ie. times I used to drink), the other night I juggled for almost an hour to distract myself. I know what you’re thinking, “He can juggle?! This guy is awesome!”
So that’s it, I’m 45 days sober and taking it day by day. I hope you all come along for the ride (if enough of you read this I’ll have some extra people holding me accountable).
If you read my last post you might ask why I bother drinking, it doesn’t sound worth it. Aside from the compulsion to do it, there is one very good(?) reason, it feels bloody incredible.
When I drink I feel absolutely invincible. I’m not a shy guy (we’re not talking Mario here by the way), but alcohol removes any trace of self consciousness. Alcohol makes stories and jokes flow from my mouth, it makes me soar around the room, bounce off the ceiling, run up the walls. When I drink the feeling starts in my stomach, then it spreads. Pure excitement. I can feel warmth flowing through my limbs, my arms get lighter (helpful for getting a pint up to your face quicker), joy spreads right down into my fingers. I’m transported to a care free world of bright yellows, luminous greens and rich pinks.
When you drink talking to people becomes oh so easy. I’m sure many of us remember freshers week of uni; I remember very little of it past 10pm. Friendships are forged in the fires of £1 shots. By the end of the week strangers have become what feel like life long friends. As a side note my conversion rate of freshers friends to lifers is about 2 in 40; that probably tells you the kind of relationship that is formed drunkenly. However, the point stands, drinking brings people together.
I drink because it’s fun.
The Useless Alcoholic 