Eight Years, No Beers

Picture the scene. An international football match, a crunch fixture. A bar rammed full of men shouting and gesticulating as the commentary blares out from the TV. Got that image in your head?

Now imagine everyone in the bar drinking black tea.

It was a very weird sight. We weren’t in the Western World of course, we were travelling across Morocco in our motorhome and were staying in the centre of Marrakech. Morocco were playing (and beat) the Ivory Coast in the Africa Cup of Nations. Those lads in the bar looked no less passionate than we did in our pubs back home, but they were experiencing that passion stone cold sober.

That was a decade ago. I didn’t stop drinking for a couple of years after seeing that bar so the sight can’t have had that much of an affect on me at the time! But I do think about that scene when I’m off to a wedding or christmas party, somewhere where most people will be drinking. I use it to remind myself I can be passionate about something and be sober.

It’s been a while since I fully knocked the booze on the head so my recollection is hazy. As I recall it went like this: despite being retired in my mid 40s, with (probably) enough financial assets never to work again, I was struggling with anxiety. I could travel endlessly without the constraint of work. I was living the dream, but wasn’t as happy as I should have been.

I was looking for a way to reduce the discomfort of anxiety when I came across a book called Start with Why by Simon Sinek.

The book prompted me to look back at my life for periods where I felt uplifted and engaged. I recalled a period in my 20s when I’d gone sober for a year or two in an (eventually aborted) attempt to become a national standard runner. Over a year or two I’d trained six days a week, and was running at county level (albeit in the B team). It was a massive buzz while it lasted and I regretted not continuing.

That was it: I’d give running another go.

Giving up drinking was a side effect. I wanted to throw myself into it and train six days. But I knew I just wouldn’t run if I was hung over. Those days hangovers could last two days, so I found myself cutting down drastically. If I’m honest I was also being something of an obnoxious idiot when I drank, and I wasn’t waking up proud of what I’d said the night before. Over a period of six months I’d cut down a lot but was still drinking.

I don’t know when I actually tipped over the edge and stopped completely. I know it was around this time of year, eight years ago, but don’t recall the date. It wasn’t that significant at the time, even to me. I was finding it awkward trying to decide at what social events to drink and which ones not to. I didn’t want to upset someone not drinking at the gathering they were hosting, when they knew I’d drunk at another.

It was just too awkward. I recall telling Ju I’d give being T Total a go for a bit (I still don’t like the label for some reason?). That way I could just say to people “I’m training for a race in the Alps” (which I was) “so I’m having a break from drinking”. It was a sort of experiment.

It still is, I suppose. These days I think of myself as a drinker, just one who doesn’t drink.

I can easily see myself starting drinking again, but I most likely never will. I’ve lived through significant celebrations and the deaths of loved ones, without resorting to alcohol, so I know I can do it in the more extreme circumstances of life.

Having drunk frequently (it was almost every day, looking back at this blog) for 30 years, I can’t imagine ever being able to totally switch off the desire to drink. I was lucky though. Giving up and staying sober has been, for me, relatively easy. I know people who’ve had an awful time doing the same.

If that’s you by the way, I salute you, you have my utmost respect.

It’s only when you give up drinking you notice just how ubiquitous it is. Granted, we live in the centre of town, but even on my street there are four or five places I can buy it. Within a ten minute walk I’ve a choice of about 20 places, including the post office, which itself seems a bit weird.

That’s not the world’s problem of course, and thankfully it’s not really a problem for me either.

I don’t recommend giving up drinking b. I don’t recommend carrying on or starting drinking either. The only thing I do recommend is, if you’re in any way inclined, to read up on what alcohol does to the human body. I’ll save you some time: it’s not good, and it’s not temporary.

On the flip side, social isolation ain’t good either. If giving up drinking means you don’t get out, you’ve switched from one health problem to another.

The key seems to be trying to balance out the two. Many folks can moderate their drinking. Ju can go out, have literally one or two drinks, then switch to soft drinks. I wasn’t one of them, that wasn’t an option for me.

I suppose I’ve switched from going out drinking with people to going out running with people. Socialising has shifted from evenings to daytime. It works well enough for me. I don’t have the tight chest of anxiety when I’m running or working out in the gym, so I get to avoid social anxiety in those settings too.

It’s a bit of a haphazard post this. I guess I wrote it to just give an encouraging and friendly thumbs-up to anyone who’s thinking about cutting out alcohol.

Cheers, Jay