Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash
As I was cleaning up some laptop files, I came across this mini-journal the other day.
My primary support and motivation for getting sober (eight years ago) came from the book Allen Carr’s Easy Way to Control Alcohol.* There’s a joke in the title, in that you really can’t control alcohol and there’s no way to moderate it. You either drink or you don’t. (You can disagree, but that is my opinion.) The book promised that, by the time I was done reading it, I would be ready to quit drinking. This proved to be true. In fact, I had made up my mind after reading only a few chapters.
I can’t remember if Carr recommended journaling or not, but I journaled about my alcohol journey during the weeks leading up to my sober date of 12.21.18. After I quit, I never looked back.
12.1.18
For the last two nights I’ve dreamed about being free. The first one, I can’t remember exactly, but there was a profound sense of ease. Like I was in a social setting and – of course – I didn’t have alcohol and it made me feel joyous and happy. There was no regret or fear of missing out. It was just the way it was, yet I was proud about it. In the dream of last night, I was in a house that was about to be demolished. A controlled demolition. My mother was there, too. And we were moving some possessions out of the house. I watched the construction people set off charges that were beginning the process. Nothing big and destructive, just a gradual dismantling. There was the feeling that the house would eventually collapse. But meanwhile, mom and I were able to leave the house. The idea was that it would be rebuilt and we could come back later. I take this to mean demolishing the old parts that don’t serve me – in particular my use of alcohol – so that my house – myself – can be rebuilt.**
I want to keep on dreaming about it.
12.7.18
Am I imagining that I don’t want to drink anymore? Am I doing it for the wrong reasons? Just so I don’t feel judged by my sober friends? I think not. I think I really want to stop. Last night I had vodka martini with a friend and it tasted so awful I couldn’t believe it. Not because it was a bad martini. But because vodka tastes like rubbing alcohol. We sweetened it up with sugar and lemon to make a lemon drop, and that was delicious. I could have had 18 of them. But I didn’t really need the alcohol part.
12.13.18
It’s easy – while intoxicated – to think, “Oh, yes, tomorrow I will become sober and oh how easy it will be.” I think it can be easy. Maybe? But. Tonight we went to the beach and after we went to Outerlands, where I wanted to have a Fieldworks IPA. A fond farewell to an exceptional beer. The highlight was getting the beer. (Or was it?) The sunset, the walk on the beach, my sweetheart K’s company, the ambience of the restaurant, the food. All just minor characters next to the star of the Fieldworks IPA. Am I exaggerating? I’m not sure. I hope so. Because there was much happiness and contentment (giddiness?) as I talked to the baker who hangs out back by the bathrooms. I told him I appreciated the smile on his face. He said he’s happy baking bread. I liked that exchange. But was the reward simply because it was a prelude to the Fieldworks beer, with its yellow color and froth? Maybe. The thing is that I can “manufacture” that feeling anytime I want, without a Fieldworks beer ever having been invented. That is what I am hoping for. Hoping that, now that I am COMMITTED, I will live into it.
K questioned my resolve. Meaning: he questioned the need for my resolve. Couldn’t I just drink at parties? Or limit my drinking? Why the big fuss? Why the talk? I explained the talk was necessary. The absolutely-no-alcohol limit was necessary. Though after sipping the Fieldworks I declared that I could make a once-a-month exception for an exceptional beer. AND YET I think that isn’t right.
I will be alcohol free until my birthday***. Once I stop, once my birthday comes, I can reevaluate. But until then, I need to summon all the tools and resources and aides at my disposal to stick to my resolve. It is the right decision. It should not be questioned. I am stepping into a better life. I am excited to embrace a brighter path.
*There are newer versions of Allen Carr’s book, but they all share the same approach and method for quitting. It offers a mindset shift that allows the reader to see sobriety as a gain rather than a sacrifice. It shatters any illusions that there’s anything good or normal about consuming alcohol, and it eliminates the need for willpower. Pretty amazing, really.
**Looking back, it’s interesting that my mom was in the dream, too. After I got sober, I spent years trying to convince her to quit drinking. Eventually she did, on her own terms. And I think she, too, has found a freedom that she didn’t know could exist, as a result.
***That would have been about 6 months after I quit. Looking back, there was never a need to reevaluate and I totally forgot that I’d given myself that permission. That’s how much I loved being sober.
