The Whole Wide World

Yesterday marked a month of being sober. After six years of sobriety, I decided to test the waters over mid-winter and see if, perhaps, I could drink like a normal person. After three weeks of dabbling on and off, I came to the not so surprising conclusion that I am still very much unable to drink like a normal person. I think it is important for me to share my experience. I do so in the hopes that if there is someone out there struggling, hearing my experience might help.

It started with me wanting to get tipsy enough to dance and feel a part of the party scene that I’d felt I was missing out on down here. I felt it was messy for other people to watch, so I didn’t drink openly. The hiding it felt yucky. I’d drink for a couple days and then not drink for a couple days and things seemed to be okay. An illusion of control. Then one Saturday, I decided I was going to drink openly that evening. There was a big 80s dance party scheduled at Gallagher’s that night in celebration of our site manager, Karen’s, birthday. In reflection, I think I must not have felt great deep down with drinking openly, not to mention I am an alcoholic after all, and I drank more heavily than the other occasions, most likely in an effort to bury those uncomfortable feelings around drinking that denial blocked for me.

I drank that night exactly like I did six years ago, in excess. I don’t remember much of the end of the evening, just as I don’t remember the end of so many evenings long ago before my recovery journey began. The hangover the following day was the worst I’ve ever had. They say the hangovers from drinking down here are worse than those back in the non frozen world and I have no doubts about that. I honestly have no idea how the drinkers do it down here on a regular basis. I was unable to be vertical the next day. It was horrible. And that was it.

These next thoughts might sound like mental gymnastics, rationalizing, and/or making excuses and that’s okay, I know that the voice here is the bad idea bear, who I let win, at least for those three weeks. The bear questioned if, perhaps after six years I was able to drink responsibly. If, maybe the way I was before had been a product of my being younger and if perhaps now at the height of my 30s I’d be able to drink like a normie. These are all textbook alcoholic thoughts and I know that. Reminder to future me-I am and always will be unable to drink a single alcoholic drink.

And I am okay with that. I know my life is better when I don’t drink. The initial shame and guilt that I felt has lifted. I am trying not to focus on the time. Thirty days, rather than the six years that this September would have marked, is obviously not easy to swallow, but I didn’t lose those six years and all the growth they brought. I am still a better version of myself.

After that Saturday, it was uncomfortable for a bit. I mourned the loss of alcohol for brief time, but resisted the urges to numb and drink again. I also think it is important to note that during those three weeks and shortly after my anxiety was through the roof. I mean through the roof. This is something I was surprised I’d forgotten. Old me, before recovery me, used to have panic attacks fairly often and was on and off medication for generalized anxiety. In hindsight and after this winter’s experience I know that drinking and anxiety are correlated, for me. I suspect there are probably a lot of people out there who have anxiety and do not realize that alcohol is a huge part of that. Not to say anxiety without alcohol isn’t a thing. I get anxious still, but nothing like when I am drinking. Not even close. My anxiety now is normal anxiety, usually around change, which is really just a big ol’ fear of the unknown. And I don’t need to medicate that.

I am grateful that the desire to drink has disspated. I am also grateful for a supportive community, for the ones who were there for me during that difficult time and for the ones back home who never stopped loving and supporting me.