I’m giving up wine for Lent.
The words just sort of came out of my mouth. My kids had heard it, and there was no turning back. They were giving up candy, so I was prepared to lay down something serious. Obscure food groups and random habits weren’t going to cut it.
I’m giving up shellfish and leaving the cabinets open (a recent habit my husband is constantly pointing out to me).
Not on the level.
I gave up wine for Lent.
I’m gluten free, so I don’t drink beer either. That leaves the hard stuff. It’s much easier to pour a glass of wine at 5:15 pm than a high ball. As a result, I’ve more or less given up alcohol for the past 37 days. Not that I’m counting.
Now before you go calling me crazy, there’s a little bit of a back story here.
I’m head over heels in love with the warm, fuzzy glow that first drink guarantees. And I’m good at drinking. It’s something that I can do. I can hold my liquor. And that’s a skill that not everyone has. I took pride in that for many, many years. As an introvert and resident odd ball, I quickly came to rely on the social lubrication it supplied.
Until now.
Giving up wine has been more than just stopping something that I love for a defined period of time. It’s sitting with that void. Rolling it around in my head and connecting to what’s really going on. I’ve taken a closer look at the stories I’ve been holding on to around drinking and whether those stories serve me anymore.
Since I’m not drinking, what else am I supposed to do?
Ever since the first time I saw Holly Golightly climb up the fire escape to Paul Varjak’s apartment and pour herself a bourbon, I was smitten. From the age of fourteen, I was totally in love with that 1960’s boozy world and all the glamour that it appeared to offer. It might be that everything I believe about drinking came from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Let’s have fun – I could use a drink. Of course you don’t have to drink to have fun… or do you? I’m totally a sucker for the idea that the cool kids, the fun crowd, the ones you want to be hanging with, you’ll find them at the bar, by the keg, buying shots. What am I nineteen? My ability to drink has been my calling card into that crowd. It was a way to feel a sense of belonging. But even with a drink in hand, I’ve aways felt on the outside looking in.
I can’t handle this – I could use a drink. Intense people drink. Writers and artists and poets drink. Seekers and people that feel deeply drink. The world is overwhelming for us sensitive types and if you’re really plugged in and paying attention the only way to survive the intensity is to dull it just a little bit and have a drink.
I’m so sad – I could use a drink. I have this romantic notion that if something horrible happened in my life (like when young Fred dies), I would pour myself shot after shot and chain smoke until the pain faded away. The thing is, I know better. That’s not how you deal with pain. And where would my family and friends be when I was on this bender? I should get it by now, I’m not alone.
I need to relax – I could use a drink. I’ve had a rough week, day, hour. I deserve this drink. This drink will erase all of that darkness I’ve been holding on to. Stressed people drink. Important people drink. People who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders drink.
I had been inserting drinking smack in the middle of all the joyful and painful experiences in life. It’s grown into a huge part of my identity that I didn’t know how to be without. Frankly, I had been scared to be without.
Before you get all defensive and ruffled, I’m not saying alcohol is bad or wrong or even not for me. I’m not trying to make you feel bad about having a glass of wine after a particularly trying day.
Like any relationship, this one has evolved for me. And giving up wine was a time to see that maybe it’s time to change how I approach drinking. Is this true love? Or a vision of romantic love that will only disappoint?
Either way, only nine days until Easter. Just sayin’.
Do you have a habit you’ve been hanging on to? Have you built a library of stories around it? Have you ever given up something that you loved only the question that love in the first place?
I have this relationship with food. I can completely over indulge or just have a few bites. It is a constNt and can be totally obsessive. Drives me crazy!
I failed to point out that I just might have replaced wine with Nutella…there’s something very emotional about food too. Comfort, reward, celebration, indulgence – I think they play out in a similar way to alcohol.
Good for you!I was going to give up drinking for lent, but realized how late into April it went this year and that covered Opening day, Patriots Day and my birthday… I did it for the month of March (allowed myself to fll off the wagon for St’s day weekend- it was a long drop). Biggest thing I found was how hungry I was…apparently ripping a couple thousand calories out of your weekly diet can cause one to become grumpy.
Second biggest thing was that I hadn’t realized how much its played into my regular life, it honestly took a little getting used to. Going to meet folks after work, watching the basketball tournament, even just having a pizza.
Again, not good, not bad, just different.
Yoga, new hip, non-drinking Jeff! I love it. Yes – it’s the smaller, daily interactions that I think are harder. Sure, weddings, birthdays or whatever but Friday night rolls around and I want a glass of wine with my pizza, or a friend has me over and I want to be gracious and accept their hospitality. But even on a regular weekday night, I find sometimes I don’t know what to do or what I feel like doing to wind down the day so I just default to a glass of wine. But I think a break is good because like you said, you realize some of the physical side effects that you’ve become immune to – like you’re consuming 1000’s of calories and not even noticing. For me, I am sleeping like a champ where the sugar from alcohol is really disruptive to the quality of the sleep I get.