Happy Non-Dry January, everyone.
February 1st marks Imbolc in the old calendar - the day that is halfway to equinox (more or less), and the first stirrings of Spring. It also marks the beginning of my month of birthday celebrations, but that's another story (but don't let that put you off sending me cards, money, NFTs, Cryptocurrency wallets, chocolates etc etc)
This year, it also signifies the end of a month of abstinence from booze. Earlier on this evening, I stood in my kitchen, staring at an inviting bottle of red wine, and seriously entertaining second thoughts about opening it or not.
I've never felt that about a bottle of wine in my life!
Then again, Dry January has been the longest time I have spent away from booze in my entire adult life. I won't lie about this: I have drunk like a fish since university. I don't know whether to be impressed by my 31-day achievement, or bloody terrified.
The shocking thing? How easy not drinking turned out to be. I should add the caveat here that non- and ultra low- alcohol drinks made it much, much easier.
It's not just shocking: Actually, it's left me feeling somewhat angry - with myself. Why on earth have I drunk so much, so often? Why have I cheated myself? I've filled up my days with the comfortable numbness of booze - why?
I found myself with acres and acres of time - so much so, that January stretched ever more interminably that it normally does. And what did I do with my new-found temporal space? Reader, I'd like to say that I made it replete with new hobbies and interests, and my delight in old ones was rekindled.
Actually, I did pretty much bugger all.
This was, unsurprisingly, discomfiting at first, but in fact, it turned out OK - for the first time ever, I got to lean into my own boredom - and listen. Listen to my own rhythm, listen and watch my own activities and what I do, and realise that there is nothing to hide behind, and that there is no point in running from oneself - which is largely the point of drinking too much in the first place.
Right now, I have a glass of a decent Malbec in front of me - but how much more will I drink? And why? A lot of the impetus to drink is actually emotional - that fleeting thought of 'god, I need a drink', when it fact it's one's anger, or sadness, or happiness that wants the drink, not the person. I can't pretend I'm not going to drink again. I doubt that I will henceforth avoid all hangovers. But this month has been a good thing to do, and I hope its effects will last.
Update: It's the morning after...how do I feel? Rubbish, really - just meh. I didn't feel my mood particularly lift, or change, and now I just feel a bit cheated. And I've done this day in, day out for years? Why?
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