PERSONAL STORY
by: Liz Jones
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Image Credit: Kristina LaureckasI
became the Vodka Collins girl at the end of September,
nine months after I'd moved to Manhattan and just a few weeks after the Sept. 11
terrorist attacks. For a while, I'd been thinking about how my life had changed
since I'd left Seattle; the new job, friends, boyfriend and all the choices I
was making in my life. Many nights and afternoons of the previous weeks had been
spent in bars, cafes and restaurants with friends talking, and sometimes not
talking, about the unsettling of our city and the harbingers of a new war we
couldn't quite understand.
My thoughts kept returning to how hiking
boots and Gatorade were frequent devices of my recreation in Seattle, whereas
late nights and tequila shots were the new vices of my playtime in New York.
Granted, my perspective was likely skewed by current events and the recent
string of nights my friends and I had spent talking over beers as some sort of
unacknowledged group therapy.
I racked my brain trying to remember the
last time I'd spent a night alcohol-free, had a meal without a glass of wine or
a Sunday brunch without a Bloody Mary. There was the occasional sober night, but
could I remember a string of two or more nights in a row that I didn't have at
least one drink?
The realization was disconcerting.
I suddenly felt off-balance, unhealthy, impure. I imagined all the toxins
collecting in my brain, muddying my thoughts and cognitive skills. I visualized
the residual impurities clogging my pores, polluting my blood and weakening my
immune system.
"Could I be functioning better, mentally and physically,
if I stopped drinking regularly?" was the question I kept asking myself for
weeks. I expected an alcohol-free lifestyle would yield many benefits,
including:
• Rejuvenation of
body and mind
• Increased
physical energy and mental awareness
• A slimmer, leaner
me -- or at least a flatter belly
• Time to organize
my life
In addition to altering my drinking habits, the move
to New York upset my exercise routine and I'd pretty much forsaken all
home-cooked meals for bar food, takeout and delivery. Given all these changes,
it was difficult to gauge the toll alcohol might be taking on my body. There was
only one way to find out.
For one full month, I decided to
abstain from alcohol. February seemed like a good month: It only has 28 days,
and it's not January, when the rest of the world is begrudgingly keeping New
Year's resolutions and too cranky for me to endure sober.
Once I
mentioned it to him, my boyfriend Anthony signed up for the 'dry month project,'
but for his own reasons of curiosity. The days went something like this:
• Week One.
The novelty of not drinking was sort of like a new toy. Everyone asks
and it turns into a conversation you've never had with your friends before. As I
explained the motivation, I became more resolute and gradually started
convincing myself the results would be life-changing. Everyone has an opinion:
"I'd never do that." "Yeah, I did that once -- it sucked." And of course the
minute I let my friends in on the plan, I was committed. No backing out
now.
• Week
Two. Anthony's description: "So far, what, 10 days, it's been nice. I
don't sweat while I eat anymore and I've discovered four forgotten ways to be
judgmental. Without the usual lubrication, hovever, my social life has become
dry and scratchy, causing occasional chafing, and is starting to crack and
peel." The stress was getting to me too -- at one point I'd even thought I'd
developed TMJ from grinding my teeth at night.
• Week
Three. Rather than being cranky and judgmental at parties, we declined
a few social engagements and opted to drink tea in the privacy and comfort of
our own home. Here's where the 'exception to every rule' rule comes in -- that's
right, there was one night of weakness after a long, exhausting and cold day
ice-climbing in the Adirondacks. But exceptional circumstances call for
exceptions, right? How could we not share a celebratory beer (or two) with our
climbing mates?
• Week
Four. At this point, I was fishing for any exception. The stress of
moving apartments. A small welcoming party for a friend who'd been traveling.
The half-birthday of my ex-best friend's brother-in-law. Fortunately, my
stronger-willed partner succeeded in keeping me honest.
I did it. We
did it. We even went an extra day or two without noticing. Oops.
What did I learn? Not what I
expected, but I did come out of it all with a few valuable things. As for my
expectations:
• The rejuvenation
of my bionic body and mind. I'll admit this one may have been a tad
unrealistic.
• Increased
physical energy and mental awareness. I learned that drinking and
staying up late often gave me a good excuse to skip a workout and eat poorly,
but I really can't blame the alcohol for that. I'm responsible for the excuses
and decisions I make. I didn't notice a drastic change in my energy level -- I
mostly notice increased energy when I'm exercising regularly.
• A flatter
belly. Hmmm...for the few months following Sept. 11, I was drinking
more and exercising less than normal. The combination left me slightly
malnourished and with a soft, but thinner, physique in place of my usual
healthy, moderately toned figure. During the dry month, I ate more than usual to
compensate for the constant, parched deprivation. Although losing a few pounds
wasn't a main motivation to quit drinking, it would have been a nice side
effect.
• Organizing my
life. I didn't master the guitar, finish building my Web site, update
my resume, learn to lead climb, organize my finances, buy a car or complete any
of the other projects I thought I'd get to in lieu of happy hour. My rate of
progress with these projects during February and in the months since then has
been pretty consistent. It wasn't the drinking, it's just that I prefer a
variety of ongoing activities rather than throwing myself into one thing then
moving on to the next.
The main sum and substance of this experiment
is that I learned moderate drinking is an enjoyable part of my lifestyle and
something I don't want to deny myself. I don't need to drink to have fun --
although sometimes it really helps -- and I don't rely on alcohol for any mood
stimulation or altering.
The most surprising result was that I felt more
stress than usual when I didn't have an occasional drink to calm my nerves or
mellow me out (recall the teeth grinding and social intolerance during Week
Three). While I realize alcohol is not the only, and probably not the best,
stress outlet in my life, it does have its place. Most importantly, it is
essential to my health, happiness and well-being that I do not deny myself
pleasure and relaxation, and continue to find healthy, positive ways to achieve
this in my life.
One other gem of learning, or rather a reminder, is
that I
do have the discipline and will-power to modify my life in any
way I decide, and that slip-ups don't matter. Evaluating my habits and routines
provides greater self-awareness and understanding of the positive, negative and
neutral influences in my life.
And so, a toast to my next project: one
month as a full-fledged barfly -- we'll see what lessons come of that.
