A Year Without Alcohol: Embracing a New Identity

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 want to be at this one, and I don't want to remember it. I don't take note of the faces. I don't want details to give memories a place to latch onto my mind. A strange, fizzy drink is being served at light speed around the room. It's a family tradition. We'll honor the passing of the family matriarch. The concoction in front of me has a blue-tinge and served in an elegantly-designed cordial glass with a long twisted neck. There's a heavy sense of obligation in the room.

I'm riding a razor's edge as the crowd is about to take this traditional shot in unison. The beer sits in front of me awkwardly as I debate whether to declare I'm not drinking or just barely sip it and hope no one notices. 

And the wine. A thousand dollar bottle? Who could pass that up? I'm already halfway through my glass, and only then remember I'm more than two months into my goal of not drinking for a year. 

Then I wake up.

Dreams.

They're just dreams.

They've been recurring in a regular and frequent clip lately. I'm somewhere where alcohol is the norm. I'm expected to partake. And floating lightly in the atmosphere around me is this feint recognition that I'm not drinking. Recall is elusive. 

I believe these dreams are an evolution toward a new me. A new identity. A lesson in "Michael the non-drinker".

It's an interesting thought process. A shift in perspective. This is not about whether at each and every turn to make the decision to have a drink or not. This is one decision. To be a drinker, or to not be a drinker. With that decision in hand, the rest of the choices are already made.

It's not quite that simple in practice, but it is practical. In a very real and concrete way for many people, not drinking is not about addiction and recovery, but instead about a change in habit and lifestyle.

This subtle shift in my perspective -- driven, processed, and supported by a literal dream state -- has strengthened my resolve and confidence in tackling a year without alcohol.

Thinking of myself as someone who doesn't drink, cuts through all the chatter. It's a skeleton key that unlocks any door I need to pass through.

I'm a non-drinker. That identification influences if not dictates how I'll make a lot of choices. 

It's not a silver bullet. One doesn't change habits over night. And, I'm not even sure where to begin with the concept of embracing a new identify. 

However this one idea of adopting the attitude that I'm simply a non-drinker, someone who doesn't drink alcohol, is taking my day-to-day curiosity about what a year without drinking would look like an emboldening it into an entirely achievable reality.