But fourth time’s the charm they say.
I’ve been here before. While my twenties were roaring, my thirties started with a sad, long breakup and a realization that something had to shift. I needed a new outlook on life, better habits and new friends to fill the void left by my collapsed relationship.
I started doing crossfit. Other reasons aside, my main motivation was firmly set in the vanity camp – I wanted to look good naked. But I soon realized that working out and using my body also had the power to quiet this latent unrest I’d carried around with me since my youth.
I was born into a religious family. Although I love my family, I never really connected with their faith. Being subjected to the doctrine of an unchosen religion fueled massive rebellion in my teenage years (and then some). It created a deep divide between me and my parents and had me acting out in several unhealthy ways, starting with my relationship to alcohol.
Doing crossfit allowed me to get out of my head, into my body and away from this mental chaos. It provided me with a natural high. My motivation quickly switched from vanity to sanity. I simply felt better emotionally and physically when I went to the gym. I started outdoor training as well, and as seasons changed I paired it with winter bathing and sauna. I’d never felt better in my life, except for one thing: I still drank. This habit felt increasingly out of place – it clearly affected my mood and rhythms, worsened my training, and made me feel awful. So I finally tried to quit.
I went several rounds. The first try lasted a few weeks. The second, a month. The third, around three months. The paradoxical thing was that even when I quit for only a few weeks, the benefits were still almost immediately apparent. Everything improved – my mood, my performance, my sleep, my energy levels. Looking just at myself, there really were only advantages to going alcohol-free.
The social aspect was harder though. Enjoying alcohol had always been an integral part of my relationships with friends. And when I was around people I didn’t know well, after a few drinks, everything seemed more effortless. I became more outgoing, conversed more easily, and it felt less of a burden to engage with people around me. When I wasn’t drinking, parties always seemed wildly boring or really uncomfortable to me. So the alcohol won out – every time.
Last year was supposed to be a lovely year. One of my friends got married. I had travels planned. And I turned 40 and was throwing not one but two parties to celebrate it. Unfortunately, my relationship over the past five years ended in the beginning of the year. I’m prone to seasonal depression and the break-up prolonged this from winter into summer. I also tore my meniscus during training. It severely hindered my training, which took a huge toll on my physical and in turn mental health. I felt lonely and sensed my body deteriorating. I really struggled to cope with it all. So my inner demons got free rein and I turned to alcohol again.
I drank too much when I was with people and I blacked out often. Whenever I had a drink, a significant portion of my focus shifted to when I could get the next one. I remember only fragments of my own 40th birthday parties. It was bad. I had to write to everybody afterwards and apologize for my behavior, as several had reached out and asked me if I was okay – they had never seen me act like this before. It was embarrassing and sad, but it also made it blatantly obvious to me that something had to change. I had always thought that alcohol helped me socially, but now it started accentuating the turmoil inside me, and it had nowhere to go other than onto people around me. I lashed out, was rude and didn’t treat them well. Every time I got drunk, my hangovers lasted many days – days that felt awful. Even when the physical hangover was over, I still reeled from the emotional part. It took several weeks every time to get back to everyday life.
My relationship with alcohol had changed, and it had changed me. I realized then with greater conviction and clarity that something had to change.
So here I am, fourth time around. Day 10. Still sober. Still a long way to go. Still processing what last year did to me and the people around me. I shudder thinking about it. I guess the question isn’t whether I can quit anymore. It’s whether I can finally stay quit.