On changing friendships and the sadness of letting go.
My brother and I went to a friend’s place Friday night. Just a few guys hanging out, cooking steaks and listening to music, like we’ve done so many times before. Usually this involves red wine as well, but to not make it hard or uncomfortable for me, both my brother and my friend decided to make it an alcohol-free night.
Although I truly appreciate the sentiment, I told them I’d be okay with them still drinking (I might even have been a little frantic about it – just to make sure they knew I was totally fine with it.) Traditionally, this hasn’t been a setting for overindulging. We’ve had fun nerding out on grapes, vineyards, terroirs, even bottle design, and I’ve always enjoyed alcohol as a hobby, something to dive deeper into and explore, and not only for numbing my body and mind. Though I find myself in a much stronger place still when not drinking, there is an inherent sadness in letting this hobby go as well. We’ve ended up drunk many times on these occasions, but never as the goal. It came in a more natural, controlled manner – as an effect of having a great time together, listening to music, drinking great wine and having wonderful talks.
The core experience of us hanging out seemed to remain intact. But the absence of alcohol became apparent early in the night. Though we still talked and listened to music, there didn’t seem to be the same energy between us. Less laughter and engagement. Longer silences, tangible, like another character in the room all of us were aware of, but none acknowledged openly. My brother had brought a selection of alcohol-free beer and I a bottle of kombucha mix we could have with the food. This was okay, but it soon became obvious it couldn’t fill the role alcohol used to play. The novelty of tasting new things couldn’t measure up to that warm, loosening, bubbly feeling that a few glasses of wine induce on a night like this, and the easy-going interplay that made these evenings so delightful and memorable seemed far away, even lost maybe.
I’m hesitant to jump to any conclusions, but a night like Friday does reinforce some of the fears I’ve had regarding which friendships might be more dependent on alcohol than others. It’s difficult to make any qualified guesses as to who will be more affected by my stopping drinking, and that, I find, makes it harder to prepare for mentally.
It’s such a double-edged sword, and hard to navigate. I find myself bouncing between these different moods and characters of my inner life, all with their own voices in how this life with no alcohol affects me. One day I feel anxious for myself, another day joyful and relieved of concerns. Some days I want to throw it all away to get drunk and careless, other days my perspective sharpens and I feel more clear-sighted and aware than ever. Nothing in this experience has yet to settle into a coherent sense of stability, and I wonder if it ever will, or whether these mental battles are part of life from here on out.
This longing for something that actually didn’t do me any good, coupled with the relief of not having to deal with it anymore, is such a strange place to occupy, yet I often do.