And trust it finds us all in fine fettle?
Big news here is that I'm nearing the end of Day 20 of no alcohol after an impetuous (some would say rash / foolhardy / deranged) decision to have a month off the plonk after New Year.
It's led to being inevitably lumped in with the annual January abstainers and meant I've been subjected to numerous rants outlining the health risks of stopping and then binge drinking as soon as the calendar clicks into February; how I'm an idiot for thinking I'll save my liver this way and that, in actual fact, I'm doing more harm than good by laying off it for a while.
One friend, upon hearing of my efforts for the first time, even sent the following text to me - which, whilst absolutely tongue-in-cheek on her part, is one of the most twisted, brilliant, pieces of reverse psychology I've ever heard:
"You do realise that quitting for a month is one of the signs of alcoholism?"
Love it. How do I prove I'm not an alcoholic?! Shit! Best make sure I go to the pub on a regular basis, for fear I go too long without a drink, thus demonstrating my addiction!
I do get the whole reference to some alcoholics who go cold turkey and then binge drink themselves to oblivion, Ms Winehouse included, but I was already pretty sure I wasn't an alcoholic and certainly hadn't set out to prove anything to myself or others that I was capable of surviving without booze. I'm also not doing it in some puritan attempt to purge myself of the excesses of the Christmas period, which were reasonably subdued in any event.
No, for me, the time of year is just coincidence; I've fancied having a full month off for a few years now, just to see - well - what it's like. Whilst I'm not traipsing down to the local offie at 8am for a top up of Special Brew or even managing to last the pace with my friends these days, I still drink regularly - by which I mean that I don't remember a full 7 day week that has passed without a degree of alcohol being consumed since I reached adulthood way back in 1996.
I'd heard stories about bursts of energy being experienced, and I was just getting bored with the same routine - finish work on Friday, go for something between a single and many beers; wake up with a degree of hangover on Saturday morning, drink again on Saturday night, then spend Sunday feeling at least slightly ropey. I was bored. And at an age where suddenly, all that time spent boozing or recovering from the effects of it starts to look like a waste of the best years of your life.
My last beer was on January 1st when we met friends for a New Years Day meal down the pub; my last 'alcohol-proper' was with breakfast the following morning (*nb, not an alcoholic, honest) when J & I finished off a spare bottle of Bucks Fizz leftover from Christmas. We had the 2nd of January off work as well, before you ask, and made the most of our new found liberation (and the effects of slightly alcoholic fizzy orange juice) to go to a photography exhibition on the South Bank.
So. Nearly 3 weeks in. "How's it going?", you may be wondering. Well... hard to say. It's not proved difficult to stop (thus removing the outside chance I was an alcoholic and just hadn't noticed, which is a bonus) and I've not found myself becoming a hermit at weekends to avoid being put in the path of temptation. I've seen my friends as much, if not more than I did before Christmas but it's been more civilised due in part to it being January - so more "come round for dinner" than "let's spend the afternoon in a sun-drenched beer garden". I have been around people drinking, but have actually only been in a pub once.
I don't think I've been any more or less "fun" than I am when I'm on the booze (although my friends may disagree) - I've found myself being aware of being tired much more quickly though, and in all honesty haven't lasted more than three hours or so before making a move for home. I felt similar before Christmas, however - if anything, the non-drinking just means I now have an excuse to leave everyone to it and head for the exit. You're allowed to be boring if you're sober.
My life hasn't suddenly become any richer or more fulfilling. I haven't picked up any new hobbies; I've not been to anything cultural since the bucks fizz-fuelled photography exhibition trip and I haven't discovered any talents or skills that have been suppressed under a fug of stale Staropramen throughout adulthood. In a way, this is disappointing, but in another it is a positive sign - I have not been wasting some God-given talent, through which I would now be rich and famous; I just don't have one, and whether or not I drink doesn't make the slightest bit of difference. This sounds pessimistic, but it's not meant to. It means I've got to focus on different things if I want to have a more fulfilling life and can stop sitting in a depressed haze blaming beer for my woes. There is an argument that at least I don't have the added handicap of a motivation-sapping hangover getting in the way of my discovering that new release of creativity or perfect job, which may be true.
Up until this weekend, I was, at least, appreciating the lack of hangovers. Sleeping is a pleasurable experience, and it's great to wake up on a Saturday morning knowing that you're pretty well rested. The anticipated surge of energy has yet to appear, however, and I found myself having a total of 19 hours sleep last weekend yet still waking up exhausted on Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure I was very run down by the end of 2011 and that I'm still recovering, which hasn't helped. This weekend, however, I contracted what appears to be Norovirus, or the "winter vomiting bug", which ironically made me feel like I had the hangover from hell for all of Friday and Saturday. I'm just about out of the woods now, in that I've eaten three meals today and haven't yet brought any of them back up, but it's funny that I normally purposefully make myself feel that bad (without the associated puking/pooing) each weekend. Kind of a timely reminder of what I'm missing now that the novelty of being 'dry' is starting to lose its lustre somewhat.
There are still 10 days of my "official" trial remaining, which doesn't seem that long. I can't see me noticing any discernible benefit to be had from abstention in the next week & a half, in which case it will only have proved that there is no point in trying to stop. Booze is not the cause of all ills, and stopping it will not magically cause one's life to improve immeasurably. It takes a lot more effort than that. Which is a result of sorts, I suppose.
