Has the holiday indulging helped me off to a good start?
Summer grows old and hands the reins to autumn, beautiful as it still is, with its slow descent into fragmented browns, reds and yellows. With it comes the melancholy, and at winter’s peak, anywhere you look is desaturated by that big grey soft box up there we call the sky. Lights pop up everywhere, little stalls with delicious smells, and everybody looks like a big coat with legs, wandering manically in and around each other. And there is this excitement and anticipation in the air from kids and adults alike.
Christmas comes around and you spend two weeks in a limbo of food, drinks and holiday cheer. The relief of no commitments, no schedule and no accomplishments feels nice at first, even liberating. But soon it becomes something to endure, and by New Year’s Eve, these sensations have fully transformed into longing for it all to be over. Longing for your regular schedule, craving your everyday life, desperate to step out of the limbo and back into your routines.
Since I knew I was going to quit alcohol come January, I didn’t hold back. I never said no when offered something to drink and I didn’t hesitate to grab something myself when I felt like it. I figured, if I just dived fully into that dead space between Christmas and New Year’s where nobody seems to have any expectations of me, and I was surrounded by an abundance of snacks and drinks, my motivation for change would peak just around December 31. It worked as intended. By the time it came around, I was pretty fed up with the general inactivity and how my body and spirit felt.
I spent the last evening of the year at a restaurant in the city with a friend. We’d ordered the full tasting menu with the wine pairing as well. This used to excite me. I loved to try different foods and sample new wines or cocktails. The alcohol also helped me distance myself from my own feelings and struggles (something that changed quietly over the years, brought along by the realization that it actually amplifies all my struggles instead of subduing them). But now, at this restaurant on this night, the dinner wasn’t exciting or delicious. I had no taste for it. I was fed up with the annual gluttony. In that sense it was… perfect. I was ready.
It’s now early morning on January 3rd. While I am writing this, I am listening to the sounds around me – the garbage men in the backyard, car noises from the street, neighbors rustling around in their kitchens. The lights in the apartment building across the street are slowly coming on, one by one, like a giant fluorescent tube, and regular life is becoming the reality once more. I am sitting at my kitchen table in my workout clothes. The longing for routines also comes with the promise of commitment, and if I learned anything, it’s to ease into it slowly. Get out there every day, but do a little less at first.
Everybody is coming out of the holidays a little marinated in all of its excess and in need of cleansing. Healthy habits are at the top of the priority lists, and no one seems likely to suggest a little mid-day drink or an evening glass of wine. The shared focus has changed, so for now, I will have allies around me in the effort to stay sober. Soon I will surely be challenged in my resolve. But for now, I will enjoy the quiet ritual of a January cleanse and go down to my local gym and lift some weights.