January, Dry. February, Cry.
Humans have a tumultuous relationship with trends. From an anthropological standpoint, we don’t need fashion, opulent manicures, or health crazes to survive. Yet, here we are in 2021 getting buried under the specious aesthetic inclinations of a frivolous population. To which, I am so, so guilty. I didn’t mean “frivolous” in a damning way, I just meant that few of our trends are necessary, yet we love to jump right on the wobbly-wheeled bandwagon. Goucho pants? Wore ‘em. Blonde highlights? Had ‘em. Jackie Onassis sunglasses? Yup. Rocked those. Choker necklaces? Scraped my face and tangled my hair with those sumbitches. And, ah, yes, the slap bracelet…
I’ve never been big on the overstated manicure because it conflicts with my lifestyle of frequently reaching into Pringles’ cans, which is a perfect segue into why I’m also not big on fad diets. Atkins, The Zone, Whole 30, The Master Cleanse- they all come with their set of limitations and rules that anyone with an appetite would be reluctant to adhere to. The only diet I could see myself getting behind is the South Beach Diet. Not the official South Beach Diet of low carb, high protein foods- I’m referring to the diet of most people in South Beach, which is cigarettes, Coppertone, and Cafecito. That one seems doable. While I have clearly developed an appropriate sensibility about trends and their temporary nature, there is one health trend I put myself behind 100%: Dry January.
In my endeavor to persuade people to trudge through the awkward, difficult, lonely, desperate moments that come with early sobriety, I have failed to give enough praise to the benefits. And the benefits are unbelievable and abundant enough that I absolutely encourage people who don’t struggle with addiction to give sobriety a try, even if it’s only for a month. Let’s start with the superficial benefits: great skin, increased hydration, amplified ability to focus, decreased anxiety, better digestion, and yes, these even apply to moderate drinkers. Think about it- even if you only have a glass or two of wine a week after a rough day, you’ve started a cycle. You have a stressful day, you go home and open a bottle of wine. You have one glass and your stress level decreases. You like the way that feels so you have a second glass, maybe a third, no harm done. The next morning when your alarm goes off at 6am, you just aren’t feeling it. No one is ever “feeling it” at 6am, but most mornings you can will yourself out of bed and make it to the gym… but those three glasses of wine from the night before have left you on the “disinclined” side of your normal ambition. So, you sleep an extra hour. But once you finally get up and going, you feel guilty about not working out and you’ve deprived yourself of endorphins and anxiety-reducing exercise. Not to mention, whatever happened the day before that made you need a glass of wine in the first place, is still true and present. Drinking didn’t rid you of your stress, it merely procrastinated it. If it was a problem that required a solution or something on a timeline, its now starting to snowball into a more stressful situation. This cycle will likely continue until it either fizzles out or comes to a head.
It may seem like I’m making the consequences of a few drinks sound worse than they are… but am I? The consequences are small, but small consequences add up. What could have been a perfectly fine day can be turned into a mediocre or a bad day if it begins with even the slightest of hangovers. Please do not ever accuse me of being 100% anti-alcohol. I assure you, I am not. I’m not punishing non-addicts for my addict tendencies. However, I didn’t become an alcoholic with my very first drink. I wouldn’t even call myself an alcoholic for my first few years of legal drinking. Even when I did begin to spiral, my social, fun drinking was perfectly normal while my sad, alone, problem-avoiding drinking was completely out of control. A lot of 12 Step Old Timers would scold me for saying this, but not everyone with a desire to cut back on their drinking is a full-blown alcoholic. I do believe that dependency has degrees. There are, in fact, people who wanted to cut back, did cut back, and have moved on with their life and their resolve without incident. Most moderate drinkers aren’t sad drinkers, they are happy drinkers. They drink to let loose on a Friday night or to find the courage to go wild on the dance floor at a wedding. That’s wonderful. I love it. I might even encourage it if I’m there, full of cake, bored of talking to Aunt Edna and want to see you flash your underwear to the entire room while doing a high kick to “Don’t Stop Believing.”
Another interesting aspect to taking a month off from booze (if you can stick to it) is that you are forcing yourself to be sober for events that you normally wouldn’t be sober for. Drinking has become such an inundated part our schedule as a society that there are certain activities where booze is just implied. A dinner party=wine, weekend BBQ=beer, bridal shower=mimosas, dinner at your parent’s house=vodka tonics plus pounding a glass of wine before leaving your own house and carrying two mini bottles of rum in your purse plus one in your cleavage to sneak in the bathroom in case they want to talk politics. Alcohol, in those situations, is nothing more than a small buffer to ease into socializing… but imagine if you didn’t have that buffer. Would you lose all conversational courage? I know that my sobriety came more out of necessity than election, but chronic temperance has shed light on a lot of my previously held beliefs. For starters, going to parties doesn’t “suck” when you are sober. In fact, once you get over the dread of anticipation and walk through the door, you’ll find that your experience sober isn’t much different than if you were lubricated. The main difference is that you’ll remember everything, and you’ll leave the party with your pants on.
Since I brought up the “dread of anticipation,” let’s talk about what a huge part that plays in habitual drinking. Uncomfortable situations come up. That’s life. If obligations weren’t part of our regular schedules, Jack Daniels might go bankrupt. Most of the time, alcohol is an implied crutch, and you don’t even think twice about it. You don’t have to be nervous because alcohol will calm your nerves. You don’t have to worry about being bored or unsettled because alcohol will produce entertainment and make you comfortable. Even if you can attempt something like “Dry January” by forgoing your nightly merlot or weekend brewery trip, you’ll lose your resolve if an event comes up that scares you slightly. But isn’t that the point of taking an entire month off? Its long enough for you to be faced with a multitude of situations and whack them all back over the net and say, “nope, not gonna drink about this. Nope, not gonna drink about that either.” Otherwise, you are missing out on the best opportunities for grounding, and maybe even a little growth. Sit at the table with the talkative people that you disagree with. Go on a first date. Mingle with your boss after hours and pretend to find his wife interesting. Attend a wedding with people from high school. Be in those inconclusive moments without the crutch of alcohol. Surprise yourself with serenity and praise yourself for your patience.
Pain is your brain’s way of telling you that something is wrong with your body. In fact, your brain sends you signals in lots of different methods and codes. Maybe January is a good time to decipher some of those messages. Every time that you feel like you want or need a drink, ask yourself, “what is my brain really telling me that I need?” I think you’ll be surprised at the necessities that alcohol has been helping you neglect. I don’t expect everyone to go full teetotaler for a month and have a life-affirming, religious, mind/body nirvana-adjacent experience. I do, however, think you’ll be surprised at what you learn about yourself when you aren’t choking down all of your bad emotions in the same swallow as your white zinfandel. Maybe you can’t commit to a whole month of sobriety, but at least give it as long as you gave Kabala and veganism. How long was that? Three hours? Ok, give sobriety a little longer to see full effects. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like the way it feels and it’ll last a few months. Or maybe you’ll spend February blacked out, wearing goucho pants, a choker, slap bracelets, and sunglasses, hiding from all of the feelings you uncovered the month before. Either way, you’ll spend 30 days on planet earth, getting a glimpse of what it is you really need.
