Going sober

I’m going to quit drinking.

I’m starting off with the month of November, probably extend it into December which will be a good challenge because there are a lot of parties then, and then try for an entirely dry 2023 if I make it that far. At the time of writing, I have some three litres of vodka in my freezer, another three litres of hard liquor in my alcohol cabinet, twelve beers, and what amounts to a case of wine. That’s some seven-hundred dollars of alcohol I have sitting within reach of me. Thank goodness I’m not an alcoholic and I won’t have to pour it all away. I’ll just slowly gift them away at housewarmings if I get to 2023.

Never have I ever had the dependence on alcohol that comes frighteningly easy to binge drinkers: shaky hands on Mondays, relief of an after-work drink. At the same time, I’m not sure if my relationship to alcohol was ever healthy. I remember filling out surveys in college about substance abuse, and always needing to click the radio button on the far right. “Four times or more.” “Ten or more.” “Yes, I have experienced this symptom in the past month.” But this was typical for college, and even then, I never drank alone, never drank when upset, and was at least not usually the drunkest in the room.

My alcohol consumption diminished significantly after college ended. I lived at home for a bit, during which period my binge drinking was regulated strictly to weekend nights. Then the pandemic hit, and it became clear that I really didn’t enjoy drinking as much as my peers who would hop onto a video call to have a drink together. After the lockdown ended, there was a huge rebound. I moved downtown and was excited to start seeing friends again and catch up on the lost year of partying. And so there it was. Drinking at every excuse from the summer of 2021 to the summer of 2022. But I don’t know how I feel about drinking so much anymore.

I start to find myself dreading birthdays of acquaintances and arbitrary celebrations of holidays, all of which demanded the copious consumption of alcohol. I didn’t want to ruin a weekend with the hangover that was becoming increasingly common. Plus, alcohol was starting to get a bit boring: not physiologically, but rather consciously, I was demanding more from the alcohol, more liberation, more happiness, more loosening of inhibitions. Consequently, finding the sweet spot of having enough to drink without being an absolute mess that night or the next day was somehow getting much more challenging as well. Understandably, many of my acquaintances have shifted gears to drugs. Of course, they still drink, but consume various other substances atop of it. I do not want to go down that route.

There are various other concerns that come with drinking too. Cost is one, as my friends moved from Smirnoff to Russian Standard to Grey Goose, and past vodka altogether as potato water only got so expensive. Drinks in bars post-pandemic have become unreasonable in cost. Health is another. Drinking in excess damages the body but drinking anything at all has noticeable effects as well, notably on hydration and sleep quality. In moderation, it’s not going to cause fatty liver or esophageal cancer, but why deign to consume literal poison? Imagine any of the symptoms of drinking: dizziness, flushing, nausea, vomiting, unconsciousness, and headaches. If I ate or drank anything else which caused these issues, there would be no doubt I’d call poison control and check into an emergency room.

My greatest concern with giving up alcohol is missing its effects when people are generally expected to be drunk. I’m not talking about its effects as a social lubricant, worried I’m unable to sustain a conversation with someone unless both of us are somewhat intoxicated, but rather my ability to manage at events when I’m the most sober person there. Can I have fun, stone-cold sober at a house party? Will I be able to enjoy weddings sober? How about bachelor parties? I love to dance, but will I be able to dance sober? Can I maintain a convivial attitude at work social functions without some degree of inebriation? I’m afraid that I’ll be bored out of my mind.

There is the convincing argument that perhaps I don’t need to maintain those friendships which are exclusively based off drinking. Perhaps, if I don’t have anything to say to them when I’m sober, I don’t have anything meaningful to say to them at all. But there are still times when I enjoy a drink or two, or eight or nine with people that I do talk to sober. I can’t deny that I still enjoy drinking. The issue then becomes one of self-restraint, and not about turning down alcohol, but turning down invitations to events that I won’t enjoy sober. However, without being a teetotaller, it’s challenging to turn down invitations to parties and celebrations, particularly if I have a reputation for being a fun drunk at parties.

Admitting that I don’t know how to respectfully turn down invitations to parties is embarrassing, but it is perhaps the impetus behind my desire to go sober. Some reflection has made me aware that there are still certain situations when I want to drink. I like to party, and I like to dance, and if don’t like to do drugs, I need to be at least a little inebriated. I can’t imagine getting through a work party sober. It’s about the time that my friends start having weddings: will I be the parent of the bachelor’s party and a sober MC? The issue then becomes one of how to pick which events I drink for: particularly if I tell one friend that I only drink for special occasions so I can’t drink at their Halloween party, but then turn around and drink at another friend’s Christmas party.

I promise that the title and opening of this post wasn’t designed for shock value, but rather I talked myself through my intentions as I kept on writing. I think I’ll still try sobriety for the rest of the year, and see how it looks on me. I’ll try attending a party of two, a boozy work function or two, and see if I can make it through the entirety of the event, and maybe even enjoy it. I’ll have to keep in mind that I won’t be armed with the excuse of being a teetotaller if take a drink or two, only in moderation going forward, but I’ll test the waters. Maybe 2023 will be the year when I learn to turn down invitations to drinking activities, but not a year of sobriety. Either way, when another slow week arises, I’ll be sure to have an update with how sobriety treated me.