More like a minor snowfall than an entire winter of discontent.
Spring seems slow on its feet this year, and while the sky is lazily shifting from a drowsy grey to a more promising blue, the air still feels cold and crisp, as winter hesitantly releases its grip on us. Soon those pink cherry blossom trees along the street I live on will reveal the efforts of the whole last year, their buds rupturing into that beautiful delicate canopy, a fleeting moment, only to return to slumber, leaving a thick pink carpet swept across the pavement.
Deciding to quit drinking was a choice and a challenge I took on nervously. I wasn’t too worried about January, as most people around me were abstinent to some degree or another. Dry January is almost a cultural phenomenon, so in those thirty-odd blessed days, nobody questions any ascetic endeavor you might undertake.
I was met with a similar degree of disbelief when February came along and I trotted the same path, resolute in my decision to keep going. I had to explain myself more than once to people, varying my story, searching for some version they might understand. This was surprisingly hard. More than once, I threw in the towel, claiming outright to be an alcoholic, feeling this would be hardest to dispute. But even then, I was met with skepticism. It still baffles me how ingrained alcohol is in Danish culture – from a fashionable project in January to almost a social threat in February.
I’ve finally managed to calm the conversations around it. March was slow, but served as a quiet strengthening of habits and daily patterns. Structuring my days in a ritualistic way serves my sanity a great deal. April has barely shown itself, and I am astounded how easily not drinking comes to me only three months in – to a degree where I am almost certain it’s too good to be true. All the people most important to me have been told, the response has been mostly positive, and my nerves have calmed somewhat. Although I wouldn’t call the process easy up until now, it certainly hasn’t been as hard as first imagined. Going into spring and summer, I wonder if it will prove a different story, or if I’ll manage to ride this wave all the way through to December.
This all feels like a positive self-reinforcing cycle – something I’ve never encountered before, and am somewhat reluctant to believe sustainable. It seems to me that negative spirals thrive much better than positive.
I am almost just waiting for the roof to come down.