Why On Earth Would You Stop Drinking?

Why on Earth Would you Stop Drinking?

People keep asking me why I have quit drinking. It's a difficult question for me to answer. Typically, I say "for the challenge" ... "to prove something to myself" "to prove I can have a good time without it" "I've felt amazing since stopping, never felt as good" ... "it's just something I have to do for a while"... "did stop-tober and just never came back". I can see that when I give the responses to their questions, they seem a bit disappointed. The look of disappointed on their face which says, 'I am not going to let you get away with that so easy, you've got to give me more than that'.

I am English, alcohol has been embedded into our culture for 100's of years. Getting gay on mead. Maybe even a part of human history for 1000's of years. Its a part of our identity, it is what friendships are built on, it's how man bonds with fellow man, it is our favourite leisure time activity. To reject drinking, is to perhaps reject our culture in society, if drinking is a big factor in our self-identities, to quit drinking is perhaps to reject people. Perhaps you are suggesting that you are not one of them. Perhaps it suggests that you think you are better than them you think you are above culture, too good for it.

Surely these people, they have woke up in the morning 100's of times and thought to themselves "I need to calm it down...I drank too much...what did I do last night? ... I can't believe I did that...I can't remember a thing...next time I will tone it down...I will have a few weekends off...I'll stay clear of my friends for a while..." The endless cycle, the pain forgotten and the go-again. "If only I had more self-control and more discipline". Surely, I am not the only person who has woken up 100's and 100's of times with these thoughts. Surely these thoughts are an epidemic of the young people of my generation and beyond. They must understand on some level then, they ask me anyway.

I have been asking these questions myself over the last 7 months. The answers I give back to people, even I do not believe them half the time. The way I answer to them, I hint that it isn't a permanent thing that it is only temporary, I do think I would like to continue with this but I don't want them to know my commitment. Why would I want them to think it is temporary I wonder? Lately the picture has become clearer. I believe I am doing it, in order to feel completely in control of my life. It has been tough and it has taken a lot of discipline to get this far. These times and milestones will act as mental anchors in the future, when things get hard, I can draw on strength from them. I feel incredible, I feel like I have made a sacrifice for the benefit of my life and my overall wellbeing. Releasing something that is a part of me in order to grow into something bigger.

Cleaning out the pipes and going straight edge

Throughout my 20's, completely abusing my body and mind with alcohol. For years and years, every weekend, The Session, now I could write a whole book about what 'The Session' is, however we'll stick to one sentence or so for the purpose of context. The session; a typical weekly recurring event where you gather with your most degenerate of pals, (probably the only real pals you have) and revel in debauchery into the very early hours of the morning (spreading across multiple days quite often), a full liter of spirits drank and about 40 fags smoked, sat in a crack den of a living room somewhere "aww can I have next tune?", desperately waiting with legs shaking, for your turn to talk. The aftermath could leave you in mental and physical for turmoil for days afterwards. Only feeling normal once again until the following weekend, where you go again! I am 30 now and in recent years, I have cleaned up my act so much that The Session has been an incredibly rare occasion in recent years.

I quit drinking September 30th 2020. This was after an all-day drinking session, bit of a re-union with mates back home. Caning the drinks all day from 12pm - 11pm. In a nice bar in the city so not quite a session, but still. In terrible weakness I ended up doing a bit of cocaine too which I always vow never to touch again. Woke up next morning, mouth like Gandhi's flip flop (borrowed from a mate). I smoke like 2 cigarettes for every drink that I have, so maybe 3-4 cigarettes per hour, let's say 3. Absolutely caning them, drink and smoke, swig and smoke. It is such a glorious combination in all fairness, alcoholic drink and a nice smoke - swig and smoke. Hand in a silk glove.

Waking up with rusty breathing the next day. Rusty lungs, lungs encased in candle wax, my pipes proper clotted with limescale. Whistling, squeaky whistling noises, like a wet balloon, cobwebs rustling in the pipes of my throat with every inhale, crispy tongued, tongue like an old and stale gym mat. Foghorn Leg Horn. Frog Horn death breath. A wet and impotent party flute sound. My breathing, that beautiful oxygen crawling into my lungs at a snail's pace thinking 'what the F is this place'.

Decided to quit smoking at this point. After this night out in question. Think of all the years of caning fags whilst knocking back booze. The damage done. The beautiful silky combo of booze and ciggies though! It pains me to say goodbye, truly does. Beers and cigs are the symbol of freedom. I decided that I would have to quit drinking for a bit whilst I moved on to the e-cig. A beer or two and I'll be back on the baccy, not confident I could stop smoking without taking a break from booze.

Stop-Fucking-tober, stop-fucking- tober and beyond

Set sights on Stop-Tober and never looked back. Stopped drinking to stop smoking cigs, September 30th, wanted to do Stop-Tober but thought I may as well just keep it going. It really helped that it was COVID-19 times. It's May 22nd 2021 now and the world is feeling normal again after lockdown. It was very easy to stop drinking during this time. All those times I said to myself back in the day, "If only I could just stop hanging around with this lot, I'd be away from the session for good". Well, quitting alcohol is relatively easy for me once the social element is removed. Can't see your mates? Happy Days! As sad as that is. It is easy to give up old habit when you remove yourself from the environment where you acted them out, environments where you couldn't really say no. Isolation, helped in that respect, to start a fresh in a way. Out of those 7-8 months of not drinking, 5-6 of them were spent devoid of a typical social life. So I've only really been sober for 2 months!

In the beginning, the first change I made was cigarettes to an e-cig. A replacement for booze needed too, you still need something to signal the end of work or the beginning of the weekend. A type of initiation to let your mind and body know that it is time to not be stressful and time to relax and spend time for yourself. That used to be cracking open a nice cold refreshing can, or a popping open a bottle of wine. If you are going to give something up, swap it for something else. Swap one vice for another.

I swapped the vice of boozing with the vice of drinking tea! Ordered some special chamomile tea online, a bit pricey, but cheaper than buying booze on the weekend. Came to a point where I was googling "can you get addicted to chamomile tea? How many chamomile teas are bad" so delicious. If booze and fags were best combo then chamomile tea and e-cig is next level! A proper hand in a silk glove fit. Blowing out all of that smoke after a sip on some sweet tea. Working from home sat at desk, puffing, and sipping nonstop.

Then came the festive period! Gorging your body with food and booze for a whole half-month. Again, easier with lockdown, but still. Had a couple of dinner parties, so cracked open the old "Nosecco", non-alcoholic Prosecco. We had a double-date dinner in our apartment, it was the first real social situation I had done without drinking, I found myself constantly searching for my glass - even though it was alcohol-less. Like when you are in a club and you always need a drink in your hand, you don't feel secure without it, feeling empty without that glass of alcohol to cuddle. Found myself itching in my seat, scouring the living room for my next drink, I realized how odd I must have looked. The night went by smooth enough, but double-date dinners are hardly the wildest temptation filled soirees, a small test complete.

Spending time with the family, getting through that. Being able to go over and see your family on xmas day, 2020. Mum, step-dad, little sisters and little brothers, sibling-in-laws and later grand-parents. Big xmas dinner, drinks to numb yourself to all the family drama and noise. The positive is, spending time with my family is that boring that alcohol doesn't really make a difference. Survived xmas day too, with some non-alcoholic bubbly and non-alco gin to boot. Was drinking non-alco bubbly summert every day as a means of kicking back and marking the festive period. "My name is X and I am a non-alcoholic". New Years eve 00:00 just me and the missus in the flat, sat around gaming all night. 2 minutes to go and no-secco pop, one glass, then off to bed.

Then it was my birthday, easy this. Never want to make a fuss on my birthday anyway. Getting smashed just me and the Mrs would have been a bit sad anyway, so no real temptation here. Could have convinced a few friends to meet up outdoors, but a bit rubbish. Forcing my friends to spend time with me outside in the winter weather. Actually felt glad that my birthday was in lockdown. For the whole year, I'd seen news about how people were gutted to be missing out on birthday parties, having zoom calls instead blah blah. Who cares, cry them a river! On the news "oh gosh, it was terrible I haven't seen Francesca in months and we always have lush celebrations on our birthdays with lush prosecco and getting dressed up all lush, I miss being lush...no-one can really see the fulness of me tits on zoom" Narcissistic flippin' idiots, but we all are, only caring about themselves and their own shite, but we all do.

I deleted Facebook a while back, so I only got like 2 people wish me happy birthday anyway, no-body got the notification as my social media was de-activated "it's thingies birthday today, you haven't spoken to them in 11 and a half months but say summert, go on!", so nobody knew it was my birthday and nobody could post stuff to me. Happy days. I was happier because it was my 30th birthday, my sister shares the same birthday too who turned 25, so my family couldn't rent out one of those naff pub function rooms. I would have had to drown myself in alcohol to put up with that, also it would have been too hard to explain to some drunk Uncle or another who were bringing me pints over that I couldn't drink.

A Ramadan Night: you've got to be the man about town

Then there were work a few weeks ago. Jeez I need alcohol to get through spending time with colleagues, those flippin' idiots. I am in sales. Our sales director was up, he brought his mate out who is a 'legendary sales coach' - retired but "can't stop getting calls wanting my business", for drinks that night. There was a Muslim new girl on our team too, she came out whilst she was fasting for Ramadan. Maybe I should convert, maybe people would leave me alone then. We went out to the first bar straight from the office that day, in a trendy kind of corporate part of the city, surrounded by glass buildings. Kind of roof terrace bar, but a bit more indoorsy than outdoorsy. Was doing alright considering, managed to crack a few (a couple) jokes here and there and get involved in the convo. I order a nonalcoholic beer, Muslim girl looks at my funny "I don't drink" I tell her, "shit mate, I thought you were sound...a normal guy" was her reply.

The team lead who was out, was talking to the new starter on his team telling her how much he respected her new religion. My conversation dropped a bit and my overall involvement with the group was slipping, I was going inside myself. The gears and cogs in my mind didn't feel very well lubricated. One of them where people say "are you ok, you're being a bit quiet?", which I hate a lot. There is nothing worse than hanging around with people who aren't just satisfied with your company, they want you singing and dancing, they want your blood. Long story short, I stay a couple more hours despite not being totally with it. The Team Leader sales guy is a bit tipsy now - "why don't you drink!?...what difference would it make if you had one beer now?" in a very interrogative way. What difference does it make to him if I don't have just one beer?

My boss, my sales director, says he regrets hiring me. The legendary sales trainer guy makes a reference to suicide and giving up alcohol. I said something along the lines of "Since giving up alcohol I've never felt m...." "like you want to kill yourself" he jumps in. I tell them that "I have never felt better during these months" falls on death ears completely, everyone's too busy looking into each other's eyes and laughing. The legendary sales trainer guy says "we would have never have hired you at our company...you can't be great at sales and not be a man about town". You cannot be successful if you are not the man about town. These words echo through my mind as I walk home. Manage to shoot off at 8pm, not after a hard battle of banter beforehand. I feel a mix of triumph and inadequacy, very strange feeling. Next morning my mind feels very fatigued.

Come on and Celebrate (These Special Days)

Then there was the big daddy test! Lockdown coming to a close, the country opening up. It's my old partner in crimes birthday whom I met in my peak sesh days at Uni. He lives in another city a few hours away on the train, promised I would come down to see him. Must say, I did try to get out of it a couple of times as the date was approaching, but booked the trains, nonetheless. A long weekend had the Friday and the Monday off work. Country opening, the world returning to normal, the sun coming out of the clouds and all of that jazz. Well into Spring time now too. Me and me old Uni Bezzie, sesh partners for life, the lives and souls of the parties, the chief west-heads of the Sesh. Session legends re-united. I wasn't looking forward to it, this was going to be tough. Me and my good pal, we bonded over getting messy, it's all we ever did together. The amount of times we've both been tripping balls sprawled on the bathroom floor during parties. Sometimes I wonder where our relationship would lie without the getting of the messy, would we have even bonded? Can we even talk to each other normally? Yep, was going to be a tough one. Riding the train down on a Friday off work, not looking forward to it, apprehensive. Landscape whizzing by as I look out the window, 'shit I'm going to land in an hour'.

On the train about to land in the city. I am not excited; I am anxious all over. Thing is, if I was drinking, I would still be anxious to arrive. I'd be worried that I wasn't going to be able to control myself, worried I'd drink too much and cane too much powder, the feeling of not having control and about to drive into a bit of black hole. Thinking about what that come-down is going to be like if you toe your foot out of line a bit. The balancing act of not jumping balls first into the abyss. Now it's the opposite, worried about being too sober, I am thinking, 'what if you can't talk to people' 'what about if you have some kind of anxiety attack' 'what if people do not like you because you are not fun' 'what if your face goes red and you start sweating when someone engages you in a normal conversation'.

Luckily I have a few friends in this city. The first night, I would say with my married couple mates. Still though, I felt on edge about meeting them. Although they are sensible and probably wouldn’t even touch a drink themselves if they knew I weren’t drinking, I still felt uneasy. I met these two at the peak of my session days, around the time when I got a bit of a name for myself as a mad head in certain circles. I felt like I had this version of myself that I had to live up to whenever I was out and about, a version of me that was crafted and shaped by alcohol and substances. A performance of the self that could never be achieved sober. Although those days are gone, out of habit, there is still a feeling that you need to slip on the old mask in order to meet people’s expectations of you.

I brought my cycle down, cycled to their gaff. Said hello and cuddles whilst he was finishing up his Friday evening working from home at like 14:30. I honest to god, this is what I did, what the fuck have I become, I honest to god dropped my bags off and told him I need to for a run to get my weekend training out of the way. I could have just sacked it, but one of the forces of motivation behind heading out for that run after a 4 hour train ride, with only a banana just ate, was knowing that after I came back from that run, my mind would be clearer and I would be less on edge. Running has actually done wonders for me, to help me cope with sobriety. Alcohol gives you self-esteem regardless of whether or not you deserve it, at times when consuming it. So I’ll say it again, I went for a flippin’ run within an hour of arriving for this party weekend.

This was day one, I didn’t want to stay at Our Kid’s that night, I wasn’t going to stay at his. Remembering back to the last weekend I came down here, telling myself I was all grown up now and wasn’t going to get out of hand. It’s been years since I quit the session, but it still haunts me. Every social I event, I cower in fear at the prospect of entering a session. Last time I was down, found myself lay on his sofa at 7am in his ground floor apartment with light starting to creep through the window. Lay there, coming down off all the cocaine but not tired enough to sleep. Lay there on my back with my phone in my hand, porn playing on my phone wanking to offset the comedown, all those Jim Jeffries jokes and all that are real. Thinking back to that session and that shame, I wasn't going to become a sofa wank-stain. So made other arrangements with other pals.

It was easy peasy really. The legend of the old self is dead and nobody expects anything. Spent most of the evening lounging on their sofa reading a book. Whilst we flicked through TV and a bit of gaming. I’ll never forget, we were listening to the local radio, on this station they always get random people to guest DJ on Friday’s. It felt like they had dragged these two dudes off the street who were currently on the airwaves. Could barely hear the audio, mumbled talking, sounded like the microphone was make-shift, made out of rolled up cardboard. It was the weekend of Eid. These two North African muffled talking DJ’s, kept playing the same song over and over again, it was mad. Never heard anything like it. Must have been played 5-6 times in the space of 45 minutes, in between ‘mumble mumble and mumble!”. The song was clear as day though, I had to ask my smart phone what it was called. Eidun Saeed – by Mesut Kurtis.

Sesh Heads Re-United

'Today's the day so come on no time to waste'. It was now the next day, the big day ahead; it was Our Kid’s birthday party and the big test. In order to not upset my birthday boy pal, when I leave late that day, when I say my goodbyes early whilst they are all still at it; I arrange to meet him at 9am in the morning, so we can have a full day together and no complaints when I leave early later, because I really made the effort with him. Cycle round to his at the other side of the city. Big hugs and welcomes as opens the door to his flat. Quick brew then a nice walk with his dog to the dog park around the corner. Great way to start the day, fresh morning air and a stroll around the dog park watching the dogs play with some light social interaction with other doggy strollers. Light conversation, almost small talk, hiding my anxiousness and not wanting to reveal my sobriety just yet.

After catching up with one of our pals at the dog park around the corner, back to his flat, play a bit of PlayStation. Wait for another few pals to join. 12-1pm, they arrive, bustling around to get to the pub. One of our pals has brought up 3 huge tomahawk steaks for the BBQ later on, back here, the other pal has brought a big bottle of Glen Fiddich as a birthday gift. All in good spirits, putting on our shoes to shoot off to the nearest beer garden. A few minutes from leaving the flat. I spew out the words "Guys, just to let you know, I have quit drinking and won't be getting on it today". A few gasps "whaa?".

"Why...what...how come?" maybe not that dramatic but, "what do you mean, what's up?". It's almost like you've told people you are terminally ill, judging by the looks of their faces. Told them I've not had a drink in months, want to keep it going. Going to keep plodding on with sobriety, even today, spending quality time with you lot. "fair play...that's discipline that...I tried dry January and just scoffed biscuits all day everyday...disciplined, but Jeezus fucking christ Jonesy, stop being such a monk...everything in moderation INCLUDING MODERATION". To the pub!

It was a grand old day, not as hard as I thought. I was a lot more introverted than usual but still managed to join conversations just enough to keep people from picking up on my quietness. Except sometimes someone would say "what's on your mind Jonesy, feels like something is bothering you? You're going inside yourself" I just made cartoon like gestures as if I was snapping out of it, waking up, made gestures like I was drowning and swimming up for air, swimming up outside of my mind in order to get back into the world. You don't want to go inside yourself, as easy as it is to slip on down there.

I am incredibly blessed to have such fun and care-free, kind of no-holds-barred, kind of mates who are rambunctious as buck. They are incredibly funny and can provide endless entertainment, always something funny to say. It's less of a challenge then in that respect as there is less pressure on me to add value to the group, they are adding all the value themselves. I act more like an audience member. Hilarious guys. As we are walking down Gloucester Road to the next pub. Our kid tells us a story about his Our Kid, one time they were walking down this road early hours in the morning.

So Our kid worked in a cocktail bar, I've been to this place, it's speakeasy vibes, it gets rammed, it gets grooving, classic soul tunes. The story they are telling, was when Our Kid's Our Kid was up visiting, and he came to the bar to wait for Our Kid to finish work. Spending the evening leaning on a bar, with the weight of the crowd around him mobbing the staff for more drinks. Our Kid is slipping him free cocktails all night, admittedly making them extremely strong, ploughing him with these power-tail-knock-out drinks. This guy is ex-services and hench as, there was a small nerdy guy with glasses behind him. Our Kid Squared, starts thinking this guy is trying to start a fight with him. So keeps offering him out, "come on...you want a fight" swaying leaning on the bar "you wanna fucking fight!". He gets too drunk, so his own brother has to chuck him out of the bar where he works. Later on when he finished his shift, he would find his brother running around Gloucester Road with his cock out, flapping it around, asking people where the nearest brothel was. He would then find said brothel, and was banging on the door, in the night street, busy with revellers, shouting at the brothel door for them to let him in. Pretty much masturbating a flacid cock whilst he was doing it struggling to stand up "Let me in I NEED TO FUCK NOW!". "Yeah, not my proudest moment in life", "You were outrageous, ridiculously bad" his brother said, "and it was all your fault for plowing him with drinks!" I said, "yeah, some things I am really ashamed of...imagine being those prozzies up there looking out of the window...thinking...fuck me keep that fucking door locked and him away".

Fun times, fun stories. It's like live TV through the eyeballs, live entertainment. But you get hassled for "being a b*ring monk cunt", so if your sober and don't mind being called boring as fuck every 3 minutes, then it's a small price to pay to tag with these rabble-rousers. "stop starving yourself of fun you twisted fuck...look at what you are doing to yourself". It wasn't too bad then, cause I had some really good company. Interesting conversation and high quality jokes. I remember, one of the home boys said "wow I've heard about these things that you've got going on" so like some business stuff I think that was going well "who's told you that" he replies "you shouldn't be knowing my business" later in the same scene "people should keep things on the down low, life isn't about trying to impress anyone, it's about working on yourself, achieving your goals, smashing them doing your own thing...don't worry about trying to impress people" then our Kid Jumps in: "yeah do all that and, in the end people will be really impressed". Final step...impress everyone. So it's all bustling beer garden hopping and beer spilling and joke factories, except from me who is just the boring monk sat there. One conversation that came to mind, one of the girls we was with was talking about an eating disorder in her all girls school. "It was a competition back then...it messed me up...still to this day...I'd look at myself and I would feel so much guilt for eating...unbearable guilt...so I was either on two extremes...not eating...or eating way too much, binging on it". Hmmm, there is something going on with that comment. "Hahaha!...Jonesy is bulimic!", "yeah we are the same!" She says laughing at me. Turns out I have a drinking disorder.

Beer garden hopping, then back to the flat to have drinks and BBQ steaks in the garden. I was sat down constantly whilst everyone was getting merry, hugging each other, dancing around, spilling beers on each other and even spitting beers on each other, throw a bit of throwing punches at each other too. Rowdy times under this mini gazebo in this basement flat garden blasting punk tunes. I genuinely thought to myself "this is what it must feel like to be in a wheelchair whilst all your friends are able bodied". I hear the word "Bam Magera" like 10 times in the space of 3 minutes and some utter shite about a new Jackass movie. I got left alone for the most part except, "you don't need to be so disciplined; everybody needs a vice in life...it's healthy... everything in moderation...including moderation", says the brothel basher.

Cocaine is out in full force now with the pouring out of the white powder on flat surfaces, with the rolling up of bank notes and the snorting of the white powder that is held up on flat surfaces, and the general increased intensity and excitement in the air, giddiness, the guys are like kids in a candy shop. They scrap the notes, and eventually they start pouring heaps onto this weird blade that looks like a butt plug. Weird kind of knife, butt plug shaped. Now, I am not getting such nice treatment as I was. They chase after me with heaps of the white stuff on this knife, pointing it at me "sniff this cocaine now Jonesy! Come on!" and then one of them says with a dead straight facial expression, "We are forcing you to do it" chasing me into the kitchen. I think to myself, what if they actually pinned me down and forced drugs and alcohol upon me? Would I get really annoyed and stop being their friends? For forcibly raping my sobriety? Probably not, I think. I don't think I would stop being their friends, no point in crying over spilt drink and drugs.

'bout 9-10pm, 10-12 hours or so of being with these lot. The night starts to get a bit harder for me, more tired, can't be arsed partaking in conversation any more. Struggling to muster enthusiasm or even say words. We all migrate to the living room, I'm lucky enough to have a spot on the sofa, drinking the non-alcoholic gin and tonic I brought up. I tell me mate I'm going soon. He says "No, stay till 11pm...you said" in a very firm and serious manner. More people turn up. I've never met them, they are enthusiastic and moving around the room introducing themselves to everyone. Couple of girls and a couple of guys. Instantly start chatting away to people. Me and Our Kid on sofa playing Tekken. Someone introduces themselves to me and I limply state my name. I imagine to myself...if I was on it now, I would likely be chatting away to these guys right now, getting a real buzz off meeting these new people. Maybe even making them laugh. But, right now, 11pm approaching, I imagine what I would talk to them about "what do you do?" ... "what do you like to do"? As one of my mates joked recently, "how's your job?" "huh huh...yeah...it's stable" and it all seems very boring and tedious in my mind. I can't imagine anything but small talk when picturing being social with these new people, but when you are mega on it you are spewing anything but small talk. I can never really remember what I say though, but you get absolutely enthralled in some kind of talk when you are on it, what that talk is a mystery. At the time though, you think it's the most exciting and interesting of all talk. Here is a clue though, coming up.

One of the home boys next to me in the corner of the living room by the window, absolutely wired, starts shouting about Linkin Parks Hybrid Mind Theory Album, to anyone who will listen, goes into a massive soliloquy about it, and nobody is listening. Too busy with their own ramblings with others, or too busy with others ramblings with them. He tries to get the eye contract of one home boy, then another home boy, no-one listens but he still rambles on with joy anyway. Everyone is too busy listening to other people ramble on, waiting for their turn to ramble on as they rub there legs until they've got holes in their jeans. So he's talking about how Linkin Park's album shaped his teenage years and his identity, poetic stuff and no one is listening.

Must be on about the 13th match on Tekken right now, and I'm grateful for it, otherwise people might start thinking about how boring I am. Now, 11pm and I am free and I am out of there, so tired. Eyes heavy and body limp as. I say my goodbyes, guiltily, but secretly happy to be leaving. Say them as quickly as possible to not get caught up in more soliloquies being directed at me. There is some wired talk "amazing to see you, thanks so much, good to spend day with you, I admire you for the discipline, I respect that and if other people don't like it then screw them". Nodding along not trying to say too much back, one-word replies, just in case the conversation goes on for a couple of other sentences longer. Actually, very heart-warming to hear though, deep down they are supportive and there isn't anything to worry about. The people that love you, your closest friends will support your life choices.

The Comedown

I cycle to my friends house where I have arranged to spend the night, nearly falling asleep whilst cycling and no lights on my bike, tough one. Very nearly got ran over by a turning bus as I run a red light, have to skid the bike to the side. How silly it would be to get ran over and die for not-drinking-and-driving at this stage in my life. Was closer than I would care to admit.

Next day my body feels totally confused, what is this? Aren't I supposed to be feeling really shit now? Aren't I supposed to be all hungover and battered? Aren't I supposed to be depressed with absolutely no will power to move? Aren't I supposed to be struggling to breath whilst absolutely drowning in guilt and sorrow? Not at all, it is all rainbows and unicorns today! My mind feels pink, it's all pink and candy floss-y; whatever that is. The world is glowing. Up and at them, could wake up singing songs, hallelujah. Hallelujah! Me and my other mate, who's futon I stayed on last night, spent a great day together, cycling, going for lunch and coffees, sitting by the dock of the bay some guys car behind us playing nice slow and steady 50's music in the background. Sitting by the harbour close to town, we chat away.

My mind would feel very weird from time to time, like it was swelling up, like it had a leak and energy was escaping. This was either; a placebo hangover where my body is really confused given I went to an all day party the night before. Thinking “what the fuck is going on aren’t I supposed to be curled up in a ball somewhere nearly crying at the prospect of life”. Mind feels fatigued, must be extremely tired from all the willpower of not wanting to drink; or the feeling of desperately wanting another coffee as I have developed a double-shot espresso addiction since quitting drink; or it is the big gaping hole in my soul that was being filled by alcohol and partying opening up more and more like a fissure, in other words, it could just be deep misery spreading across my mind that is usually cured by alcohol; or that kind of swelling and expansion, that confused and fatigued state of mind, it could be my reaching a higher level of consciousness, or spirituality, that this abstinence has brought. Perhaps reaching Nirvana ‘n’ all that.

Probably the feeling of the mind craving that stimulation, more than anything else, that stimulation that could just be satisfied with drink after drink after drink, the mind still not used to not having it. Life being that boring and miserable that your mind is constantly screaming for it to be stimulated in one way shape or form. Looking back to childhood when everything about life was so interesting and adventurous, ‘a miracle, it was beautiful magical’ … then it disappears…no wonder you get welcomed into adulthood with a license, a license to booze hard.

Call it a day at 6pm after a great after-glow type day, train home in the afternoon that Sunday, triumphant. I survived the biggest possible test of my non-alcoholic career. The only thing I can think of that would be a bigger test, going to an exotic country with a boat load of cash with the home crew. I guess that will have to be a story for another time. On the train home, feeling that sense of triumph once again. I had that song stuck in my head all day, I couldn’t shake it, but it brought me great joy and I felt very grateful that this special weekend would have an Anthem. That Mesut Fuckin' Curtis banger, Eidun Saaed. “feeling so good, smiles and greetings everywhere...come enjoy this special day…come on and celebrate...oh Allah, oh Allah, thank you for these days!”. Am I converting here 'n' that or what?

Drunk Chat

Will I drink again? The thought of drinking has two sides, the fun and excitement of the drink, the signalling to the body that it is time to unwind the mind. Loosen the screws, let it all go. Then there is the other side, imaging having a drink, then what? Having another drink, and another, then feeling a bit drunk, feeling that warm rush over your body. A bit wavey. Then, that's it. You are drunk. Imagining the feeling of being drunk, is it that good? Then imagining the thoughts "I have been sober for months and months and months, I have broke sobriety and for what...for this?" imagining the pointlessness of touching a drink. Drinking is good though.

Drinking has been strongly embedded in my identity, my socialization, my culture, my behaviour and habits and my view of the world; even my philosophies around what it means to be alive. Once that is removed, it could be, perhaps, that it is more ritual than anything else. Now this element has been removed from my being, from my life, from my self; it all seems a bit pointless and silly to go back. Just like it felt, very pointless and impossible to stop drinking when it was there, when it was a bonded part of me, welded to my life and self. It seems pointless now and it seemed impossible then. Things can change. It could well be that this is a load of nonsense ramblings and mental gymnastics, paradoxes and creating boxes in the mind that get all tangled up and trap you. It could well be that I am denying myself something fun in life, because I am a mentalist. "You only get one life, this is not a dress rehearsal". Those words have echoed through my mind since, this is not a dress rehearsal and you do not get a second go. To be or not to be. One thing I do know, I have never felt more powerful and in control of my life, now I do not shy away from social events for fear of the come-down, I embrace them instead. At the same time, I have never been surer of the emptiness in my soul now that it isn't being plugged by substances. Now I have no choice but to confront the abyss. The good news is, I can perhaps find something healthier to fill it with than the ol' sauce assortment.