When I write a column, I like to write something that people can relate to. Generally, it’s about working on myself. This time, I’m reflecting on “Dry January.” That’s right, I’d be collecting a one-month chip had I gone to a meeting.
I’ve been mulling this one over. How does not drinking alcohol make me feel? Overall, it hasn’t been too big of an adjustment. “Consistency” has come to mind as a theme. Reliably being there to support the ones I care about is a big motivating factor to keep going.
It’s also just … chill. Drinking can be so unchill; whether it’s fighting to keep upright until your ethanol-filled body is ready to collapse or recovering from the night before. Here, here! If it’s Saturday, onto the 19th Street Diner for mimosas and asleep by six o’clock, only to wake up Sunday wondering where the weekend has gone.
And, I love the Diner. It’s my favorite place for breakfast in Glenwood Springs, with some great people who I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know a bit. I finally got a picture on the wall — although I’m in the background of its intended subjects. But, ultimately, drinking mimosas was just part of the routine, ingrained in my psyche that that’s what made it a good time. I’ve been back this month, and have had a blast — coffee in one hand and a fork in the other.
We live in a party place, full of party people — some of the best kind. Mountain Fair brings joy into my heart, in between gulps, with fleeting faces from the past checking in one after the other. Often, it’s a very meaningful reunion and my blood-alcohol-content takes the edge off, letting me externalize my feelings right off the bat. Frankly, I don’t see much wrong with that, but I do look forward to trying it out sometime of my own volition, without the crutch.
I reach sky-highs and sea-bottom lows when I’m off of the wagon. I’ll be the belle of the ball at a holiday dinner, finishing the night singing my heart out, only to wake up in the morning with a headache and depression whispering in my ear … “You’re not worthy.”
I borrowed that quote from the underside of a bottlecap of Arrogant Bastard, brewed by Stone Brewing Company, discovered after cavalierly popping open one of its bombers with a Bic lighter.
Those mornings are rough, though. Emotions that were already there would be intensified by depreciating my worth through uncontrollable self doubt and ridicule. I’d ruminate on regrets rather than lean into all of the blessings life continued to offer. Thoughtfully balancing the good with the bad has, indeed, been an underlying perk of sobriety in my case.
It’s interesting how people really do have their own unique relationships with alcohol. Some are able to reach an understanding with their counterpart (Is that what they call drinking in moderation?), others are caught in the midst of a mutually abusive relationship, others have never touched the stuff, some are on a break and many completely cut ties. Depending on how that relationship looks, it can seriously affect the real ones that matter.
I’d be lying if I said, bellying up to a table at Beer Works with a frosty IPA hasn’t crossed my mind this month. A good pub offers a sense of freedom and community; that, topped off with a pint, makes for a magical recipe. I’ll still be in, but, for now, will stick to the chili and, perhaps, an NA.
Within this tight community, there is a flourishing sober one. There are tons of people navigating the effects of addiction, so I certainly don’t feel alone. I haven’t attended one yet, but the allure of The Meeting Place on Cowen Drive, where more than two-dozen recovery meetings are held each week, is compelling.
Today is Jan. 31, and I still don’t know how long this will last. I guess that’s why they say “one day at a time.” Today, I’m happy, I’m sober and I look forward to what tomorrow will bring.
If you are struggling with addiction, there are resources in the Valley that can help, including at The Meeting Place (www.meetingplacecarbondale.org).