|January was wet, wet, wet...|
It’s the first of March. This means I can let myself drink alcohol again. I spent the month of February dry. That’s not entirely true – I did, after all, give myself a hall pass Waitangi weekend (Feb 6-8), indulging in a glass of sparkling wine after a 24-kilometer (15 mile) relay run and two glasses of white wine on our wedding anniversary the following night. My big, boozy weekend.
Over summer, a pattern had crept in – I’d have a drink almost every day. Granted, that drink was often light (2.5% alcohol) beer or a small glass of wine. But I was consistent, and Iooked forward to that drink. While I like to think I'm a Midwestern-born moderate, if I had to categorize my relationship to alcohol on Facebook, I’d say, “It’s complicated.” It’s fun to feel the effects of a couple drinks. It sucks to see the effects of chronic use in people I love– lost dollars, increased weight, accidents, illnesses, break-ups, hours of lost sleep and squandered opportunities at the altar of the Almighty Drop.
For five years, the New Zealand Drug Foundation ran a campaign called FebFast, where Kiwis took part in a month-long non-drink-a-thon to raise money for organisations working on alcohol and other drug issues. The Foundation has quit doing the campaign (citing ‘limited resources’), but some of us still use the shortest month as an excuse to abstain. https://www.drugfoundation.org.nz/febfast
Kiwi culture is bathed in booze. It might slowly be changing, thanks in part to a new law reducing legal blood alcohol limits for driving (from 400 mcg per liter of breath to 250 mcg for those 20 years old and over) more than a year ago. The government late last month reported Kiwis consumed less alcohol last year, but the same number of drinks. We’re still drinking, but knocking back less beer, wine and hard stuff. Gin and whisky are so 2005.
We have more choices now – two-thirds more low-strength (2.5%) beer was available in 2014 than in 2013. You’ll find more flavored waters in stores than you can shake a toilet brush at, and ordering a mocktail at a bar is no big deal.
This is fine if we choose to test our mettle, asking: can I celebrate without alcohol? (I failed twice at this task in February, but also succeeded twice). Be angry or down without alcohol? (a definite yes for me, though I cringed when a neighbour reported taking his frustrations out on the fridge, meaning he’d had a bad day at work and felt the need to down something cold and fermented). I’ve done this small abstinence exercise before, and each time I’m reminded of the momentary discomfort of declining a drink. Living with healthy discomfort - like risking rejection, running faster, even disciplining our kids - makes us stronger. Booze can be the pacifier we turn to for solace, for company, for commiseration and celebration. All too often, our ‘mate’ leaves us lonely, fat and broke. Some friend.
The problem with dry months is people most likely to do them are least likely to need them. If you rely on a daily beer, wine, whisky, gin – it’s improbable you’ll stop, even for a single week. “I’m not an alcoholic because I don’t attend meetings; therefore, I don’t have anything to give up” is how I picture the thought bubble above the head of someone who depends on that daily drink. Screw you and your sanctimonious seven dry days.
Why bother? Limited evidence shows taking part in a dry month challenge could lead to long-term changes in drinking patterns. A study looking at 857 UK adults taking part in Dry January found two-thirds of participants successfully gave up drinking for one month. Successful abstainers and those who did not succeed had increased powers of abstinence and reduced consumption patterns up to six months later. There’s hope for slackers like me. http://www.nhs.uk/news/2016/01January/Pages/Dry-January-can-lead-to-healthier-drinking-patterns-long-term.aspx
Working on a feature article about craft brewing this week, I got to taste three different kinds of beer on March first, breaking my (almost) fast. The beer had heaps of hops and much malt, so a little went a long way. I can drink to that. Or, choose not to.
Have you ever had a dry month? How was it?