sobriety

Sober Sunshine

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I’m laying in a flower infested summer field, eyes toward a beautiful blue sky. Warm sunbeams fill my soul. Tranquility I haven’t felt in years. My phone bleeps. I try to ignore it, but it won’t go away. I answer. Hello, this is the wine industry calling. We haven’t seen you in months. Are you ok?  Don’t abandon us.  We were good to you once. Remember the fun? Ok the mornings sucked, but still. We need you. I apologized, hung up and went back to the warm sunshine.  Giving up alcohol is the greatest gift I ever gave myself.

I didn’t stop because I got a DUI or my wife left me or I lost my job. I was a Friday night binge drinker for forty years. Week’s end, I’d come home, sit in my easy chair and drink very expensive wine or single malt scotch (so cultured right). I never had just two glasses. A bottle of wine led to some beers and then ohhhh some weed.  With the cupboards bare, it was Good Night, Irene. I never blacked out. I remember the songs and running rampant though midnight streets at dawn.  I never lost anything but my health.

Mental health issues were the main inspiration for change. I didn’t realize the damage alcohol caused until I gave it up. No booze means, waking up in the morning with a clear head, watching a beautiful pink sun rise and feeling it. No more hangovers and recovery days. No more brain numbness. No more hangxiety – the anxiety you feel the next morning after a night of drinking with your head in your hands asking yourself, why?  Or the depression that follows from the frustration you feel because you just can’t stop or how come you can’t just have two glasses and be done. Mental health issues were literally driving me crazy.

And the sleep issues. Even two glasses of wine devastated my sleep. It took me two weeks sober to get my sleep pattern back to normal.  Now I sleep consistently well.  Some people say they return to dreaming. I never had that problem – drinking nightmares never stopped until I quit.

I don’t know when I realized drinking was doing me harm – possibly retirement because I could drink whenever I wanted. Monday? Haha. It’s not like I have work tomorrow. My job held the bottle in check (very hard to teach grammar hungover). Oh no, it’s Sunday. I can’t drink. I work tomorrow. But once the training wheels were off – whoohoo.  Then came the pandemic. What else do you do? Watching the world slowly unravel while in isolation, please pass me the wine. But once normality returned, I couldn’t stop. Maybe for a couple of weeks or a thirty-day challenge.  Something is wrong here.

And then a switch finally clicked. I stopped. Annie Grace was a big help, along with many YouTube videos and r/stopdrinking (I’m a stocker, but very helpful). Yes, alcohol is bad for your health. I wish I was a two-glasser, but I am not. I like where I am now. I enjoy my mornings. I enjoy my sleep. I feel healthy, mentally and physically. And frankly, I am afraid. I know what one glass leads to and I do not want to travel that road.  I love my victories – sober birthday, sober Xmas, sober vacation. Alcohol takes up too much brain space I need for other activities like enjoying life.

Sober thoughts

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I don’t go to AA (alcoholics anonymous) although I have considered the option more than once. Who doesn’t during that morning after when your head feels like soccer ball batted around by Liverpool? I also think it’s a great organization that’s saved millions of lives. However, I do like to go “dry” several times a year. A plight that’s been particularly hard recently.

On a monthly dry surge, I ran into a few problems in places that sell alcohol. I get it. Restaurants and bars make a lot of money from booze and in these pandemic times, they need all the extra cash they can get. A reason why I always tip twenty-five percent. At least. (Even if I know my salad was just dragged across the floor.)

Recently, I went out for dinner at a popular pizza chain. A pleasant server came to the table and asked if anyone wanted something to drink. One person ordered a very over-priced glass of wine (I get it. Money. Pandemic.). Another asked for a something and coke. The daily special. Reasonable price if you don’t mind drinking alcohol, you could start your truck with. When it was my turn, I asked, “Do you have any alcohol-free beer?”  The poor server looked at me as thought I just got off the Martian shuttle. I ordered a diet soda.

The next night we went to a bar in the hotel where we were staying. This time I ordered a virgin Caesar – Clamato juice (Ok who came up with this? Some dude is sitting on a sunny patio, drinking tomato juice when an epiphany sounds, “You know what this drink needs? Clam juice.”), tabasco, spices and rimmed with salt.  The drink is also garnished with salad on a stick. This one, had a pickle, spicy green bean and celery. Now, the virgin, of course, means no vodka. With one of these sexless babies on the table you fly right under the sloppy, slurring radar, no one has a clue you’re sober.

However, my second drink was a bit of a scare. I ordered a soda with ice and lime. The thought here was a mock vodka and soda – the calorie conscious drink of the year. But the server brought the drink in a massive cup, super big gulp size. Not very inconspicuous. One look at this drink and, “Hey buddy maybe you need a meeting.”

Now, yea you’re right. I shouldn’t give a shit what other people think. And really, I don’t. But perhaps owners, bartenders and servers should have a bit of sensitivity. If a person orders a non-alcoholic drink. There’s a reason. Not only for health reasons, but the a sober person doesn’t want to be excluded from the excitement of vomiting, slurred words and a million “I love you, man.” Owners, managers, it’s not a big deal to have an alcohol free beer. Even Mexico has an NA beer. And that’s saying something.

NB: This Naked Mind is also a wonderful resource for quitting or slowing down alcohol use.

 

COVID Clampdown in Banff

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So we’re sitting around watching some predictable and boring show on Netflix when I say, “Hey I can get us into the Rimrock for a hundred and sixty a night.” Now the Rimrock is a very posh hotel in Banff,  Alberta – warm bathrobes, slippers and a chocolate on the pillow. (I’m sure they’ve junked all those amenities due to COVID. Who sneezed on the chocolate? Perspiration on the robe? I’m surprised you don’t have to bring your own sheets.) I recheck the price. It’s in American dollars, so one sixty is like a million Canadian. The plan is sinking faster than a Rocky Mountain boulder in Lake Vermilion.

I check again. A small condo at the place we love (Rocky Mountain Resorts) with a separate entrance, fireplace and kitchen is on for a reduced price of one twenty in the Queen’s dollars. A pop up, “Type snowday for a twenty percent discount.” Whooohoo!  A hundred bucks a night and we can bring the little dog and our own food. Yes please. The poor town is suffering due to COVID.  It’s my patriotic duty to help, right? Let the snowday begin.

Now the only rub is I’m in the middle of my “Dryuary” (no booze for the month – my Christamas liver is close to pickled) and I’ve never and I mean NEVER sat in front of a fire (condo or otherwise) without a glass of wine, single malt or beer.  Never. It’ll be a challenge but I’m up for it (for the sake of the town, right?). The next morning we pack up our gear and hit the road. Little dog is in the back seat panting and doing her, “We there yet? We there yet? It’s so hot back here. We there yet?” This lasts the entire hour and a half drive. You’d think she hadn’t had a drink in a month.

Arrival and lunch at our favourite bakery (Wild Flour). We eat in our vehicle while overlooking the frozen Bow River. Breathtaking. Up to this point no contact except to grab lunch and walk it to the car. The town is so dead I feel sorry for all the business owners and employees. Masks everywhere. No mask. No service. Very strict here in the Canadian wilds.

We get to the hotel. Check in is quick. It’s Tuesday at two in the afternoon. Quiet time indeed. We get to the room. Take care of some business and we go for a walk. Normally we use the road behind the hotel. But the town’s had a major snow storm and every ten minutes a gravel truck filled with snow zooms past us. I’m afeared for the little dog. One slip and she’s a new pair kid’s slippers at the Rimrock. I pick her up and dash home.

At home after I get the fire going, I prepare some lovely charcuterie for a session by the fire. Another first.  I’ve NEVER eaten cheese, cured meat, baguette, pickles and fig jam without a nice glass of vino. I’m starting to sweat. Tea. I make some tea. It goes very well with the cheeseboard. Relax. I can do this. Time to break some traditions. New associations. Chamomile and charcuterie.

We hike the next day. Not a single soul on the trail. Well except for a lonely male elk. Midweek – excellent for social distancing. The COVID clampdown is great – barely no contact. We eat inside or order take out. The suite has it’s own entrance so no contact with people in the hall. I consider the gym but I walk and hike instead. The trails are calm and quiet. It’s not only midweek but winter so the vacation spot is nearly dead. In summer you have to step over people to get anywhere. The best part? Who knew that chamomile and cured meat is a match made in sobriety.