A thread:

My favourite thing I did in 2020 was get married to @CynthiaDNelson. My next favourite was getting off the grog. I’ve never drunk huge amounts (classic two-pot screamer) – but if I didn’t drink for a few days I felt … twitchy.
I loved a good mouth-filling red. I liked a beer when I was in the mood. I made (and make) a killer margarita. I loved the taste, and alcohol relaxed me, calmed my nerves before a reading, made me more social. I absolutely loved the buzz.
I also wanted to drink less, and tried various things over the years, e.g. only drinking on weekends. But at the slightest excuse, I’d drink every day. I saw myself manipulate situations so I could easily get a drink (e.g. suggesting a bar as a place to eat).
The morning after, I’d feel nauseated, regretful, with fatigue that would last all day. My body was clearly not a fan. But it’s hard to imagine a life without alcohol when our society links it so strongly with pleasure, relaxation, reward, celebration, fun.
Would a life without alcohol be … fun? Non-drinkers are seen as wowsers, a little strange. As (inexplicably) choosing not to engage in an absolutely standard and enjoyable part of life. There’s also the social bonding alcohol facilitates. When I gave up smoking, I found I also
gave up the chats that were part of going outside with someone for a smoke. Giving up booze would mean giving up bonding rituals like ‘wine o’clock’, shared drink-related humour, all the online memes that say ‘God, I need a drink!’ or ‘Have a drink – you deserve one!’
For women, expected to take care of everyone else, alcohol can be seen as self-care: here is a treat I have for myself. I knew not to interrupt my mother when she sat at the kitchen bench with a glass of wine, a cigarette and the paper while the dinner cooked. This was Her Time.
My father is an alcoholic. His father was too. Was I an alcoholic? It turned out that a better question to ask was: did I want to keep drinking the way I was? I didn’t, but I couldn’t find a way to change it.
I never considered AA. I realise it’s helped other people, but the AA model had always sounded to me like: stop doing this thing you really want to do and fight the craving for the rest of your life. My therapist mentioned a book a client had mentioned to her, by Annie Grace.
I bought the book. I began, as the book suggested, by writing down all the reasons I did want to drink and all the reasons I didn’t. The ‘did’ list was half again as long as the ‘didn’t’ list. But within a few weeks, I realised I … just wasn’t thinking about drinking anymore.
What’s really nice (apart from the absence of nausea and alcohol-related fatigue, and having the $ I would otherwise have spent on alcohol) is not feeling dependent, not having that craving using up space in my brain, not watching myself finagle situations to get a drink.
Occasionally I have a glass of wine. I’ve had 5 since I bought the book 6 months ago. The first was odd, because I didn’t get the buzz I was used to. But I still enjoyed the taste, the smell. And got the hangover, which reminded me why I didn’t want to do this all the time
If you’d told me a year ago that I’d drink alcohol-free sparkling at my wedding reception and enjoy it, I would not have believed you. I’m not here to try to persuade anyone to stop drinking – people only change that shit if they want to.
I’m posting about it in case anyone out there feels as I did: that they want to drink less, but can’t find a way. The book I found useful is Annie Grace, ‘The Alcohol Experiment: 30 Days To Take Control, Cut Down Or Give Up For Good’ https://bit.ly/3hvUPFx 
And to anyone who’s made it this far: I wish you (in spite of the difficult things happening in the world) a happy, healthy, fun and fulfilling 2021 🥳❤️
You can follow @TriciaDearborn.
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