A Year Without Alcohol: Keeping Secrets

In the decades that I've been calling myself a writer, I noticed a peculiar thing: the stories I told out loud would often not get written down. The more I talked about an idea, the less likely it would turn into words on a page.

Even calling myself a “writer”, which seems to be rule #1 in all the writing advice books and columns, did not make me a better writer. It did not help me produce more work, better work, sell anything, or increase any real measure of success.

Sobriety has been a parallel experience. The less I talk about it, the easier it seems to be to stay the course. 

NOTE: As I mentioned in my first article about this, I’m not an alcoholic, so this perspective may be completely irrelevant to you if you are. Sharing seems to be a crucial component of the AA program. I’m explicitly and only sharing my personal experience at the moment in time.

I've told precisely one person about my experiment, about my curiosity that 2024 might be a year without alcohol for me. And that protection of the idea, the respect for its fragility, the understanding that it will take care and attention on a daily basis -- at times a moment-to-moment appreciation -- there's something quite powerful about that.

Like writing, sobriety, for me, has an element of sacredness to it for me. 

I don't hide that I’m not drinking, of course. That is practically impossible as an adult in American society. This article exposes it and is out in the wild, of course. 

But few, if any, of my friends and family read my posts. Hardly any even know about them. As I mentioned, I don’t talk much about my writing.

Keeping this experiment with sobriety close to my chest in my day-to-day activities has been empowering.  I'm conscious of not drawing attention to it. 

The natural and inevitable encounters around it -- your friends and family do take notice when you're no longer drinking -- those are all fine.  I just say I'm not drinking. Casually. No big deal. Let’s move on.

I don't say I stopped drinking. I don't say I'm never drinking again. I don't declare I haven't had a drink in a month. I just answer for the moment.  I'm not drinking.

Maybe that will change in the future. It will certainly change if I make it the full year.  I'll likely be telling lots of people about it. By then, I imagine, it might be part of my identity. Who knows. I look forward to seeing what would happen if that day comes.






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mundane Routine, Magical Life

Image
Ever since seeing Star Wars as a kid, I became fascinated with careers in creativity. Could someone really make a living telling stories? And not just a living, but become really, really rich and really, really famous? And not just stories, but creating...anything?  George Lucas, Stephen Spielberg, Cat Stevens, Neil Diamond, Steve Wozniak, Jim Henson, Evel Knievel -- these people were creating things, and talking so casually about their creations as if they were just another moment in a day-in-the-life of a whole-minded person. I was fascinated and wondered where these people had come from. They just appeared. Like magic. I quickly succumbed to society's narrative of the overnight success. After all, I had never heard the name George Lucas before Star Wars was released, Spielberg before Raiders of the Lost Ark, Wozniak before the Apple I.  And then suddenly, there they were. They were everywhere. Every talk show. TV, radio, morning, night. Their faces were on billboards, their voic
Read more

A Year Without Alcohol: Embracing a New Identity

Image
I'm 73 days sober when.... I sit at a table with powerful people. It is a privilege to be here and will undoubtedly be good for my business. We are celebrating. Bottles of wine are being opened. A *really* nice bottle is opened first. I don't know how much it costs, but somewhere above the buzz of vibrant conversation, the phrase "a thousand dollars" stands out. Glasses are poured, celebratory cheers offered all around. Before I know it, a glass is in my hand. My sister throws me a surprise party. Friends are there that I haven't seen in a long time. Colleagues I worked with years ago are here. Friendly, familiar faces of the long past. I don't know how my sister even knew to invite them. I'm guided to my seat at the table. An ice cold beer in a tall glass is poured for me. Everyone makes eye contact and smiles at me. I'm known for my love of beer.  A good family friend has just passed. I attend her wake. It is all a fog. I hate funerals. I don't w
Read more

A Year Without Alcohol: The Second Temptation

Image
I managed the first temptation to abandon my experiment with sobriety by opting out of the situation all together. I was invited to a live concert at a favorite nearby music venue, and though the draw was considerable, I simply chose not to go and instead spend a quiet night at home. The second temptation afforded me no such option. The 49ers were facing the Chiefs in the Super Bowl and we had a small family gathering planned. Opportunities to get together with my mom and my sister, brother-in-law, and nieces are harder and harder to come by, and the passings of my dad and older sister in the past few years bring an increased appreciation and humility for their genuine rarity. I was committed to going. I was looking forward to it.  However, beer and football tend to go hand-in-hand, of course, and that wasn't lost on me.  But, I was surprisingly unencumbered by the thought of it. The absence of even the mildest of after-effects from alcohol have been overwhelmingly relieving and i
Read more