I didn’t mean to write about this today. I was going to write about an audiobook I recently finished and admired, but I can’t stop thinking about how it has been six months since I last drank alcohol.
Because it has been six months (the whole breadth of 2023!), and because I am a person who enjoys labels and simple explanations, I have come up with three easy answers when people ask why I am not drinking.
Hangovers. One answer I have found coming out of my mouth when I refuse a drink is that I have developed bad hangovers. Yes, I get hangovers, thudding headaches that make me irritable and desperate for grease, fat, and a nap, but I am not sure if “developed” is quite right. I remember being twenty-two and waking up with pounding headaches from a mild night of drinking. The more accurate answer is that I have endured hangovers for the past eighteen years because I thought drinking was worth losing a day of my life to pain.
Genes. Another answer is that alcoholism runs in my family, and I fear my reliance on it and the damage it can do. Yes, I can point to many family stories detailing the hilarious exploits of drunk ancestors, and sadder stories, too, of paychecks poured down throats and fathers with raging tempers. But recent research tilts against blaming genetics for alcoholism. (For a fascinating discussion of this, I recommend Carl Erik Fisher’s The Urge: Our History of Addiction).
Poison. After reading dozens of books about recovery and addiction, it has dawned on me that alcohol isn’t good for me (not even red wine, despite all the hype). Holly Whitaker, in her book Quit Like A Woman, emphasizes this obvious but unstated fact: alcohol is ethanol, and that it is poison. But you know what is also not good for me? Caffeine. And I drink coffee by the keg.
Unfortunately, none of these answers are complete. They are not lies, but they do not tell the whole story, which is that since I quit drinking, I feel better in my mind and my body, I have lost weight, I do not crave sugar like I once did, I sleep better, I wake up in a better mood and I am more patient with my family. I trust that my feelings are my own and are not the product of either a buzz or a hangover. I don’t take the risks I used to take and I am in love with the fact that my kid won’t have to see me buzzed, drunk, or in a shame-anxiety spiral from the night before.
And because this litany takes too long to explain to the polite person who offers me a glass of wine at a party, and because I am sober but not #sober, next time someone asks, I’m going to say, “I don’t drink” and hope they offer me a sparkling water and change the subject.