A Year Without Alcohol: The First Slump

Overall the experience of not drinking for the past six weeks has been overwhelmingly positive.

Is the honeymoon period over?

One thing is clear, I don't miss drinking. I don't miss the negative physical effects post-drinking, and even the warm buzz of a few beers -- there are other ways to enjoy the passage of time.

But those things are all about the absence of alcohol -- the removal of drinking from the routine.

What's left underneath? 

This week my frustrations are running hot.  I'm less patient than usual. Irritability seems to be at a constant. 

Enough time has passed where I suspect this is not due to any withdrawal symptoms. It's not due to the lagging effects of stopping alcohol consumption. I'm past that. 

It's a "now what?" feeling. 

I think it has something to do with a sharper, clearer picture of my own limitations. 

Yes, the effects of stopping alcohol are overwhelmingly positive. The removal of those negative effects -- the hangovers, the depressant symptoms, the fast food cravings -- those things are real and apparent.

But what stopping alcohol doesn't change are my basic limitations.

The persistent tendonitis in my left arm that's taking months to heal - will it ever? 

The writing habit that hasn't kicked into a higher gear -- I still succumb to resistance more than not.

Even meditation -- it's like quitting alcohol has put me back at the starting line.

I'm more aware than ever about how distracted by thought that I am. I think alcohol makes it easier to live in the present moment. Throw care to the wind. Enjoying a beer at the beach makes it easier to enjoy the sand under your feet and the sound of the crashing of the waves, because the beer (or third or fourth) makes it easier to push back the thought of the dwindling bank account, looming deadline, or leaky faucet.

It's a strange feeling this week. Things are all clearer and crisper. And sharper.  The recognition of being lost in thought -- that moment of recognition that I'm somewhere else in my head -- that I'm not present -- that moment is razor sharp. It cuts quickly and cleanly and with surgical precision. It's unapologetic in its immediacy. 

It is no gentle nudge back to the present moment. There's no veering. It's strict and authoritarian. Now is now, and you're here.  No futzing around with it.

Overall, I take the viewpoint that this is all positive. It's all healthy and positive growth. 

But it feels disorienting.  Like coming ashore after being on the ocean all day.  The truth is that the ground is more stable than the deck of the boat, but the fluids in the inner ear give the impression that things are still sloshing around.

There's a name for that - when you get off a boat and it feels like the ground is moving.  It's called Mal de débarquement syndrome, which according to my research, usually subsides within 24 hours, but can last for months or even years (!).

It's a useful metaphor for the way I'm feeling at the moment in this transition from drinking to an alcohol free year -- but I'm certainly hopeful that the disorientation is in the typical range of 24 hours.