Five Years Sober

It was Memorial Day weekend. Anita was out of town. I’d gone to a concert and a baseball game that weekend, but I was relaxing at home, and I went to the fridge at about quarter after midnight for just one more before I went to bed for the night because I had to work the next day.

And then the next weekend I didn’t buy any more beer and then the next weekend and the weekend after next to a point where if I did buy some it would have made Anita sad, so I decided against it. Of course, it was more than that. I had a long history of bad, self-destructive decisions I made while drinking and it isn’t good for your health even if you say to yourself, you can moderate it. And I couldn’t really moderate it. Five years ago, I had been drinking more to sooth work stress and political stress and it was just time to stop.

I liked being drunk though and sometimes I still miss it in a way I don’t miss smoking (even though there is still the occasional craving for a cigarette fifteen years out). The difference is that I kept smoking because not smoking made me feel bad, but I liked drinking, so I drank to feel good — it helped level out the anxiety. Thankfully, I wasn’t at the point of physical dependence on alcohol.

I don’t miss the hangovers though — the dehydration and feelings of dread as your brain chemistry reset or the piecing together of the night before to make sure you didn’t do or say anything the night before.

Quitting drinking was surprisingly easy for me in terms of physical cravings. I wasn’t expecting…