If I can do this, what can't I do?

In the past when I've tried to quell my urge to drink for any period of time, or haven't been able to drink for some reason, I've viewed it as a major sacrifice. I'm 74 days into my sober life and a seismic shift has happened in my thinking. While alcohol used to be a significant rung in the ladder of my life, now it's not even on the ladder at all. I've just come to see how utterly unimportant drinking is in the grand scheme of things.

While in the early weeks I was pondering whether I would give up alcohol for good at the conclusion of my sober year, lately I've hardly thought about alcohol or drinking at all. Today, for the first time, I said out loud what I had been thinking for some time now: "I think I've decided I'm never going to drink again." I blurted this out to a sober mate of mine. However, I'm such a flip-flopper I could have been a politician in a former life, so don't be surprised if I change my mind on this several times before the year is out! But I'm becoming more and more certain that this is the path I'll tread for the rest of my life.

I'll try to explain why. So many good things have happened to me since I quit alcohol. I'm harnessing my new-found energy and channelling it into new and exciting writing projects. I'm calmer, less frustrated with the minor inconveniences you encounter in life, more engaged with others, happier. I've actually always seen myself as an optimistic, happy-go-lucky, laid-back, glass is half full guy (despite the opinions of others that I'm more of an intense, uptight, serious, depressive type, but there you go). My life is great. I know I'm a very lucky guy to have had the love of an astoundingly amazing woman for the last 20 years and, more recently, from two beautiful daughters. But what I've found is more inner peace and a deeper sense of genuine happiness, within myself.

I think there's a certain increase in self esteem that comes with this journey. I like myself more now (not in an arrogant way, but more in the way I'm coming to accept my faults as part of my humanity rather than any particular failing).

I've gained strength in choosing not to drink, and being comfortable in my sober skin, when most people I know do drink, and will drink. I can totally understand where drinkers are coming from when they express disbelief that we sober people are choosing life without alcohol. They only see it from the sacrifice point of view, and why would they see it from any other? So if I experience any (self-perceived) pressure or judgement from anyone about my non-drinking I try to see where it is coming from and let it slide right off.

To all my sober cousins out there, if we're strong enough to swim against the current in a river this swift then what can't we do?

   



  

The Family Reunion

I've just sent in my RSVP for a family reunion I'm attending later in the year and the banter has already begun. My cousins have been posting back and forth on Facebook about how the bar will need to be well stocked. My southern cuzzies are coming too. Most of them like to give it a good nudge and the old me would have been heading straight for the bar too.

I started typing something along the lines of, "I'm off the booze, but I'm sure that won't hold you fellas back." Then something in the back of my mind told me not to announce my sobriety to them. I thought better of it and deleted the flickering words letter by letter. I'll cross that bridge in December when either they ask me directly why I'm not drinking, or I successfully drink mocktails with nobody the wiser that I'm the only sober person in the room.

My instincts tell me to be discreet rather than forthcoming on this occasion. Similarly I'm not taking a loudhailer to my 40th in October, but I'm happy to tell people if they ask.

It's probably a moot point anyway. Knowing my parents they've probably already blabbed it to the entire whānau.

Am I worried what my family will think of my decision? Am I nervous I'll be challenged about my choice? Am I worried that they'll feel like I'm criticising them, and their drinking, by touting my sobriety? Maybe I'm feeling a little bit of all of those things.

When I decided to quit alcohol my sole aim was to try to improve my life. My decision wasn't made to cast shade on anyone else. I'm not trying to be better than you, the drinker, I'm just trying to be a better me.

I'm looking forward to catching up with my family. We don't all gather in the same place nearly enough, other than for a funeral.

It'll be a blast!

Do I secretly wish I could hit the grog with them? Yeah .... nah. There's always going to be some event on the horizon where the booze is flowing. It'll be valuable practice getting involved and not missing it. No more beersies for me.
  

What about the kids?

The other day someone questioned my sober life by asking whether I was missing an opportunity to model responsible drinking to my daughters (who are 6 and 3). I reckon this question is wrapped up in a part of our drinking culture we just never really question: How we bring the young ones through into the drinking world, as if it's inevitable that they will be drinkers.

It's the old giving your 13-year-old a few sips of beer at the family barbecue, buying your 16-year-old some drinks to take to a party, celebrating the right of passage that is their 21st with them chopping a yard glass as everyone cheers. I always cringe when see proud dads cradling their wee babies in their arms and giving them a tiny sip of something, or letting them suck on the end of a beer bottle. This is common. Is it to get them used to the day they'll be a drinker like dad? Is it to get their wee bodies acclimatised (for want of a better word) to alcohol? It's weird that people think it's harmless to give wee babies tiny sips of alcohol when it's generally accepted that there's no safe level of alcohol for pregnant women. One thing that makes me cringe as a dad is wondering if my daughters will drink like I did when I was a teenager.

Back to the question. Am I missing a golden opportunity to model responsible drinking for my daughters? My answer was that my wife can play that role now. She is a responsible drinker after all. She, perhaps influenced by my journey, hardly drinks at all now and I haven't seen her drink at home for ages. I've never been rolling drunk in front of my girls, but one of the reasons I decided to give up alcohol was I felt I was starting to model my drinking habits in front of them. It was the wine or cider while cooking dinner, and the drinking on the weekends at home that I was starting to get uncomfortable about. They were seeing me drinking pretty regularly. When my youngest started asking whether me or my wife were drinking "pinot noir or rose?", while heart-crushingly cute, it did give me pause for thought.

I know they will get to an age where they start to make decisions for themselves around alcohol. But here's the thing. My parents' mostly moderate drinking never influenced me one way or another. When I was 16 all me and my friends could think about every weekend was whether we were going to be able to scam our way to procuring beer. I'm not blaming my folks at all, because I hid 90% of my teenage drinking from them, but I might have benefitted from some frank discussions around the dangers of alcohol (or is this just the parent in me talking).

What I question now is why is it inevitable that our children will just be enveloped into the booze culture, as if it is their birth rite? And why do we have to be complicit in it? Yes, I know when they get older it will be their right to make their own decisions around booze. Yes, I know they will probably follow the crowd and drink before they reach drinking age. I know they will have to learn by their own mistakes rather than mine. But I've decided I'm not going to help them along in their drinking endeavours, other than giving them all the information they need to make their own, hopefully responsible, choices.

What can I tell you about the effect my non-drinking has had on them. Well, they no longer ask about what variety of wine we're drinking. They still have to deal with their grumpy sleep-deprived dad on occasions, but they haven't had to deal with their hung-over dad for months. Alcohol is just not really on their radar anymore.

They can be influenced by the drinking culture, by their peers, by their family and now they have another option - being a non-drinker - to add to the mix.

I think it can only be a good thing that they see that as a valid choice too.








   

Sharing the load

I caught up with an old mate today. The last time I saw him his partner was going through some hard stuff. Now they've broken up sadly, and he's pondering his next move. He asked me what had been going on for me and I told him about ditching booze. He was supportive and we had a long chat about how his former partner has struggled with alcohol and the tension it caused between them.

I love how talking about my decision opens up stuff for others. We can all touch on common experiences.

I haven't been announcing my situation by loudhailer, and I've only told a handful of people I'm Sober Man365 (not that I'm ashamed of anything). When I'm tapping away at my keyboard I confess I feel a bit like a bespectacled Clark Kent - anonymous and free to write without a filter. I'm not sure my costume would be as cool as Superman's though. What would a sober crusader wear anyway (suggestions please)?

However, of the sprinkling of people I have told, many of them have talked about how they should cut down or of someone close to them who has/had alcohol-related problems. I've had very few negative reactions.

I think talking about problems with booze is a healthy conversation to have. Most of the time stuff like that is kept inside. It's an internal conversation that can go around and around in circles in your head. Your own partner might not necessarily know how you're feeling. You can tell if someone doesn't want to go there pretty quickly, but for those who do want to talk about it, that kind of conversation can be really helpful for both parties. I could tell my friend was stoked to be able to get some of it off his chest.

I've also been locking in the details for my 40th today. It's in a couple of months. I've just sent out the invitations on Facebook. I told everyone there would be a bar tab and nibbles (till it runs out). It makes me feel like such an enabler. Now that I'm living sober I see things from the sober person's perspective. I'm also considering the people that may be trying, like me, not to drink. Before I would only see things from my own drinker's perspective.

Events such as my 40th are the sort of events I'd usually try to turn up on time for, to take full advantage of the free drinks. Being at an event where there is a bar tab has always been one of the most dangerous scenarios for me. I would usually charge like a bull out of a gate and drink till I'd well and truly surpassed my limit. But I'm realistic that more than 95% of my guests will be drinking. I also need to think of them. I considered just paying for food and letting people buy their own drinks, but the host in me couldn't let me do it.

While I'm going to be drinking virgin cocktails or some such alcohol-free beverage, for everyone else the alcohol will be flowing. It's just occurred to me that I'll be the sober driver at my own 40th. How cool is that?! I'm also looking forward to dragging my creaky, but sober, 40-year-old body for a run early the following morning.

Looking at the upsides - seeing what is gained rather than what is being given up - is an important part of this journey I reckon.

I hope you lovely people are all okay.


I haven't shared any music for a while so here's another Marlon Williams gem I've been playing a lot on the guitar lately (how many songs include references to alcohol? It's seems a popular theme). There's a beautiful line in there about how "no-one's truly sheltered from the cold" ... and how how ... "it takes a little learning to grow old". Overall I take this song to mean: We all have hard times. Don't beat yourself up! Everyone deserves love. Hang in there!!!:

Lonely Side of Her




















    

Never ever, ever, never?

The recurring question that keeps coming up is if I'll ever drink again. It's mainly something I've been asking myself. It's early days but it's something I need to consider throughout this sober year in order to make a decision.

There's the potential to really tie myself in knots over this. If I over think it then it could make what is actually a very simple choice more complicated than it needs to be. I know deep down it will just be easier in many ways to stop forever. No more grey area. No more angst over how and when to drink and doing the moderation thing. If I had to make a decision now, based on a rational approach, I would never drink again.

But human beings aren't always rational. I know I'm certainly not. Emotions come into play. There's the nagging internal voice asking me whether it's necessary for me to give up completely. I could just moderate and I'd probably be fine. So what if I go back to the way things were. That wasn't all bad.

I've found it helpful so far to look at things in a cost versus benefit way.

Here is my list of ways alcohol has harmed me:

• Alcohol has been detrimental to my health (not in a major liver-failure kind of way, but it certainly hasn't made me healthier).
• Alcohol has led me to putting myself in harm's way (being a van passenger in a alcohol-related crash for instance).
• I've made a damn fool of myself at times on the booze.
• Alcohol has impaired my judgement.
• Alcohol has affected my moods (I'm far more even-tempered and happy now).
• Last year a bad hangover led to me letting a friend down in a way I'm still not proud of.
• Alcohol helped me get through uncomfortable social situations (I'm seeing this as a negative now rather than a positive).
• Alcohol has given me false confidence.
• Being a bit cut at my daughter's fourth birthday party led to a bit of a train wreck in the pass the parcel as I was on music duty (I wonder now what the hell I was thinking serving booze to the adults at a wee kid's party!).  
• Having alcoholic blowouts (blowout is my code word for vomiting violently at the end of the night) in front of my wife has made me feel like crap.  

How has alcohol helped me? Let me see.

• I've had some fun nights out drinking with friends and family (though I see now I could have done this without alcohol).
• I've celebrated and commiserated some big events in my life with a drink or two (I also question this too).

If you look at it in that light, you'd have to ask why would I want to drink again rather than why would I not want to.

It's interesting to me how a simple shift in thinking has led me to see that even the ways I thought alcohol was helping me, it was really holding me back.

Goodbye Noosa

It's our last night in Noosa. Tomorrow we head back home to Christchurch, and I can't help but think I'm returning a different man. I'm still the same ordinary, and flawed, person that landed at Brisbane airport a week ago, but I'm even more convinced now that the sober life suits me.

We just went to the resort's restaurant for our last dinner here. I drank a virgin mojito (it tasted pretty similar to the alcohol version) as my eldest daughter and her cousin danced like dervishes by our table. My three-year-old is ready to go home. She's struggling with a virus. As soon as I finished my dessert I walked her to our villa to read her bedtime stories. Some strange didgeridoo-esque bird sound, echoed across the resort as we walked up the steps - a truly Australian moment. I read a couple of books, and she drifted to sleep cradled in my arms.

As I think of home, I'm reflecting on this time away with a quiet feeling of satisfaction. It's not just the not drinking part, but in how much I've enjoyed the holiday without alcohol. In the past alcohol has gone hand in hand with holidays, yet this sober week away has been my favourite holiday EVER. There must be something in that. Aye?

My afternoon drinks have been soda/ginger ale with lemon, lime and bitters, ice and a slice of lemon. My newly pregnant sister-in-law and I have been sober buddies for the week. We had a dinner out and I laughed and chatted just like a drunk version of my sober self (I'm not sure that even makes sense, but what I mean is I'm getting better at being myself in social situations - enjoying myself - without the crutch of alcohol). It's all practice and being mindful about it. On Wednesday an old friend from University days come to see us and we spent time together at the beach. We drank quite a bit together that year, but I found out recently she quit booze the year after we graduated. Today she posted to Facebook about reaching eight years' sober. I really wanted to talk to her about her sober life. The one thing I'm finding hard is not being able to talk to anyone about this stuff - someone who truly understands. My wonderful wife is totally supportive, and she knows better than anyone why I'm ditching alcohol, but she can't truly share in this - not in the same way as with a fellow non-drinker. She does read this blog, so I know she understands what's happening with me but by talking with my friend I found the common ground I had been craving.

Today another mate came to visit. It was great. But we got talking about all the 40th birthdays happening this year and I told him I had quit drinking. He just said: "Why did you do that?" I don't think he was trying to be insensitive but I just think he didn't understand it, at all. I know I'm going to have to get used to that sort of incredulous reaction. It's hard to explain to people from the drinking world how great it is without booze. Yet, non-drinkers get it straight away. It's like we're all in a secret club. We all know how much better life is without alcohol. We also understand how hard it can be to quit. We can see through the common drinking myths. We get it.

I've been enjoying getting up with a clear head. I've been running nearly every day. I was fit before, but since I gave up drinking I've gotten into the shape of my life. I feel healthy and strong. I play cards much better sober. I wonder if this is the best version of myself so far? Have I reached some sort of peak? Will it all go downhill from here, or will I just enjoy the way things are for the rest of my life? Was alcohol the thing that had kept me locked into a closed and safe way of thinking? The mind shift that has come from giving up alcohol seems to have freed me to chase some the things I've lacked the confidence to attempt in the past. And other stuff has come along. Good stuff. I'm reviewing books - a first in my career - for a magazine I've wanted to be published in for a very long time.    

I'm not a religious person but there's no better way to describe how I feel at the moment than truly blessed.




    

If I don't have a problem then why am I here?

I'm at day five of my Noosa holiday. The first two nights, while spent in paradise, were so stressful I was almost driven to drink. It was at a time when I felt I was in supreme control of my sober lifestyle. Sleep deprivation does funny things to people. After the second night of getting up multiple times to my squawking children my mental state was ripe for a slip up.

Later that night the booze was flowing, not like a waterfall, but at more of a steady stream than night one, and for whatever reason I felt like I was missing out. Big time. I watched my brother-in-law charging into the beers and I remembered how much I loved doing that on holiday. I truly did love that part of drinking, especially with close family and friends gathered to enjoy each other's company. Just chugging one beer after the other and getting a bit loose. Coming out of my shell. It wasn't much past dinner when a strong drinking urge invaded my sleep starved brain: "Fuck it! What am I doing this sober thing for anyway. Maybe I don't even have a problem. I could just pack the whole thing in and drink with the other fellas." For a moment I really wanted to drink, to just be normal again. But I saved myself by saying out loud to my sister-in-law: "I really want to have a drink" before adding, "but I'm not going to."

That took all the air out of the situation - vocalising my innermost urge to drink, having it hang in the air like a cloud of steam before it drifted away. Then I was okay. Now three days later I'm in a much better place. I've had a couple of good nights' sleep, I've been for a few runs, and I'm more than happy to still be sober.

Maybe I don't even have a problem.

This morning on my run I pondered how that thought had popped into my head. I thought about all the sneaky things my inner dialogue thinks of to say to me to get me to do all sorts of things I'd decided I didn't want to do. I thought back to the day I joined the Living Sober community. It was the morning after my last bender - a bender I had told myself before I went out with my friends I wasn't going to have. How many times do our plans around moderating alcohol get hijacked by alcohol itself? As I've gotten older, and since I had children, benders have happened less frequently. In the last few years they've been accompanied by feelings of shame, and deep regret. I sat in front of the computer screen looking at the Living Sober home screen, with my finger hovering over the mouse battling with myself over whether I'd join up. Did I even have a problem? Can I manage this myself?

In the end I decided to take positive action and, feeling like I had nothing to lose, I joined up. The answer to my question goes back to that day. If I didn't have a problem then why was I there, staring at that computer screen, making a decision that could change my relationship with alcohol forever. When I joined I didn't know If I wanted to quit or to try moderation, but I knew I wanted to do something different. After all, my modus operandi in relation to alcohol for the first 39 years of my life was deeply flawed. It wasn't working for me anymore.

I've come through my first crisis now.

Now that I'm on the other side of that, I feel stronger than ever.