monkey off my back

One guy's experiences as he quits drinking


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How times change

I was just driving past a large liquor shop and decided to pop in because they stock Seedlip non-alcoholic gin.

As I walked in it struck me how much things have changed in (nearly) 10 months. I walked in confidently without even questioning whether it was OK for me to be there by myself.

As I walked through the aisles I saw many familiar drinks but didn’t have any twinge or temptations. I ended up stocking up on some zero alcohol drinks: beer, white wines, the Seedlip Grove Gin and some specialty tonic waters.

It was a nice experience!  So tonight I might have a tonic water and Seedlip Gin to try them out. ‘Grove’ is the latest gin flavour and it’s a mix of bitter orange, lemon, manarine and ginger.  Cheers!

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9 months and no baby (yay!)

Last weekend was my 9 month mark and I’ve got no baby to show for it! Although I’m not crying because I’ve still got gooood quality sober sleep!  And even better – it’s the start of 3 weeks of HOLIDAYS!!!

It’s been several weeks since I last spoke with my partner about ‘it’. This weekend he asked some questions on the weekend about nitty gritty stuff like “how much did you drink?” and “when did you drink?” and “when did it all start?”.  He’s generally very supportive but he has a very bad face-filter.

He reacted with an expression of shocked disgust when I said how much I’d been drinking – it caught me off guard because he’s been so great. The worst thing was that I’d ’rounded down’ the amount… a fair bit. I also reacted quite strongly and told him that open communication also requires non-judgemental reactions.

So anyway, I don’t need to have 100% disclosure. I’ve told him all the general themes about my drinking. I don’t need to put myself through a mea culpa confession about every detail. He can learn to check his reactions.


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Where’s my pink cloud?

I know we’re all meant to be terrified of ‘Pink Cloud Syndrome’ but really – a few small, rose-tinted clouds wouldn’t go astray. Would they?

I get it. In the early stages of recovery some people feel fantastic and think everything’s rosy. They might not recognise the challenges that lie ahead or they might have unrealistic expectations. Then it all comes tumbling down when they hit a challenge or realise that everything’s not perfect.

BUT

It’s been months now. I feel much better than when I was drinking. I don’t find it hard to not drink but I thought I’d feel a little bit rosier than I do.

I still have a flat mood (not sad – just blahhh), low energy, low libido, and niggly physical issues. Everything’s a bit mundane. I really would like some more spring in my step – to give me some more reward or motivation.

Maybe it’s because I’ve quit drinking for extended times before – and this just isn’t new or exciting? It just feels like everything’s mundane… Wait a second! I just had a thought while I wrote that – maybe that’s part of why I drank? Maybe the drinking was what I used to spice things up a bit and add some pink clouds (before the addiction really kicked in and they became severe storm clouds).

Maybe I just like more stimulus, novelty, chaos and excitement than my day to day life provides? I could just be in a rut and need to go seek out some adventure.

NOTE: I’m not talking about my relationship which is the centre of my world. I’m just talking about the home-work-home-work routine and playing things safe, sensible and routine all the time.


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Thinking of someone

I’ve been getting excited because one of my very best friends is due to fly home and visit in two weeks.  I only see her every few years so I was going to have ‘the talk’ with her after she arrived.

BUT… I got an unexpected call from her today. She was really upset because her Mum (who I’ve known a long time) was admitted to hospital with a broken nose after a fall. She’s had a few falls recently but this was the most serious.

After the fall her partner realised that she was really drunk – more drunk than he expected her to be after 1-2 glasses. While she was in hospital, he found a collection of empty whisky bottles in her closet. My friend was in a state of disbelief and asked me if she should fly back home immediately.

I told my friend that she should check with her Mum but it’s probably OK to wait two weeks (my friend is also not rolling in $$$). I said that if her Mum was secretly drinking at those levels, that’s she’s probably been doing it for quite a long time. I said that her mother is probably mortified about having her secret suddenly exposed to her partner, her family, her friends, hospital staff and her GP.  Her Mum may actually like some time to talk with her partner and adjust.

And then we had ‘the talk’ and I told her that I’ve just come out of a similar situation – except I didn’t have a crisis incident which brought it to a head.

I’m so glad that I (finally) managed to tell my partner and a friend about my drinking last year. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable and awkward – but probably less excruciating than having everything unravel in a day without any control.

I told a friend. I told my partner. I told my GP. I started seeing a psychologist. Then I’ve told another three friends.

It’s given me the opportunity to do things at MY pace. I could adjust between each step and take a breather. I was able to tell people who were the most important to me AND who I could trust.  I’ve had really good reactions so far – which as given me more confidence and probably more resilience and support if other people react badly in the future.

I’m really feeling for my friend’s Mum. When my friend is here I think we’re all going to go on a day trip together. If it feels OK I’ll mention that I’ve just gone through a similar thing.


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A mundane path to addiction

A lot of narratives about alcohol dependence talk about depression, trauma and emotional escape. I’ve read compelling experiences from people who’ve used alcohol or drugs to escape from traumatic life events. Then I compare my boring story and it just pales into insignificance.

What I’m about to write isn’t to undermine the validity of those traumatic experiences – I’m saying that they are only some of the stories and experiences behind addiction.

For me, alcohol was usually an enhancer. It was always part of fun and enjoyable events – dinners, parties, Sunday afternoons sitting on the back deck or watching a movie on the couch with a glass of wine. Alcohol was something I used to relax, to be more socially outgoing, or to bond with people.

It was a really effective anti-anxiety medication (at least at the beginning). #TGIF – it’s wine o’clock! I used alcohol to switch off my overactive brain – it literally symbolised that it was the end of the day and that I could relax.

I sometimes wish that I could say that I’d had some big event which had caused my alcohol issues – but it was more like a repeated experience wore a deep groove in my psyche. A behaviour became a pattern, then the pattern caused tolerance, I drank more to get the same buzz, the pattern slowly became dependence. I made repeated choices which led me down a path to dependence.

Instead of depression or trauma, the most I can say is that alcohol was a way of escaping anxiety or sometimes boredom. However, that story doesn’t make a compelling book or movie…

The Nailbiter: How one nervous man’s struggle to switch off at the end of a hard work week lead to a life of alcohol dependence…

Starring Brad Pitt as… the Nail biter. (well Brad might be wishful thinking).

I guess I’m also making light of my anxiety and minimising it too much. If I pin point when my drinking started to cross over to problematic drinking – it was in my early 30s after a period of severe work stress. I’m smart and seem competent – and people always seem to want to give me more and more responsibility. I got too much responsibility too fast and didn’t have the boundaries to say no (it’s also quite flattering). The period left me with panic attacks which took months to settle…

That’s when I started to have the occasional extra beer or swig of spirits when my partner was out of the room in the evenings… Just a little sneaky top up to give me a buzz and help unwind my tightly coiled brain.

At the end of the day – it doesn’t matter whether you’re using alcohol to emotionally avoid depression, trauma, anxiety, boredom or you’re just having too much fun. Frequent heavy use runs the risk of dependence – and once you’re there things become less fun.

For me that lead to shame, low self-worth, loneliness, hopelessness and persistent low mood… and high-level anxiety. The bloody thing I was trying to avoid in the first place!


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False confidence and rock bottom

I know that everyone’s ‘rock bottom’ and experience is different and that’s OK. From the outside, I don’t think my rock bottom looked very dramatic. It would probably make a really boring movie trailer.

I didn’t lose my job or get formal warnings, I didn’t crash a car, bash someone, wake up on a footpath… I kept going to work, functioning, looking after my family, doing laundry, paying off my mortgage – but it was still my rock bottom.

The issue I have with quitting alcohol has been false confidence. I’ve made several attempts (some quite lengthy) to stop drinking. The first attempt was the best and I was sober for an entire year (it was a great year by the way 😉). False confidence was a problem in two ways:

  1. “I think I can manage this now”. After being sober for several months I would start to think that I was in control and that I could manage alcohol. Then I’d start drinking again – occasionally, successfully and in moderate amounts… and you can guess how that ends. Within a month I was back to square one – with daily, compulsive and sneaky drinking.
  2. “I can quit whenever I want”. The other ‘problem’ was that my first couple of attempts at quitting went really well. In a weird way, knowing that I could quit also meant that I could quit tomorrow, or next week, or after my birthday… That false confidence became a barrier because it took away the urgency. Each quit attempt became shorter and the drinking periods in between became longer each time.

My rock bottom was when I became scared again. I’d tried my previous techniques. I’d finally told my partner and close friends. I was seeing a psych and I tried taking alcohol-cessation medication… And I still couldn’t quit. I felt like I’d tried every approach and then I got really scared.

I’m not talking worried, anxious and guilty (like the last few years), I mean scared. “What if I can’t stop?” “what will my life be like in 3 years?” “Will my partner leave me?” “Will I have to quit work?” “Will I get heart disease and die by 50?”

I think that when I reached my ‘rock bottom’ it shattered the false confidence. I’m not an AA fan – but I guess that’s what AA people talk about with ‘surrendering’ and ‘realising that you are powerless over alcohol’.

It’s perverse that giving up was the thing which ultimately gave me power.I don’t want to sound like Nancy Reagan but I ‘just said no’… No ifs, no buts, no maybe in the future, no small amounts… just no. I just decided that alcohol just can’t be a part of my life.

So far that’s been working for me. I’m not saying it’s the only way for people to manage addiction – but it’s the way which seems to work for me. For me, abstinence is less effort than trying to control and manage the beast.


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The world’s my oyster

What’s a boy to do next?  Tomorrow will be 31 weeks since quitting booze.

It’s become easy to not drink and I get almost no cravings or temptations. I sometimes get FOMO when we’re travelling or in social situations – but that’s about wanting to take part and try new things. It’s not a craving for the sensation of being drunk.

I’m doing really well on the sober front… which leaves me thinking ‘what next?’.

It’s a good place to be. It feels like I’ve worked hard, I’ve had some time to rest – and now I’m starting to get bored and restless.

Time to get back into running? Take up abseiling? Embrace yoga? Start a pottery class?

There’s lots of possibilities when you’re not trapped in a toxic routine.