Skip to main content

Nearly Dry

Nearly Dry
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. 

http://www.stuff.co.nz/manawatu-standard/news/77327775/Average-amount-of-alcohol-in-New-Zealanders-drinks-hits-18-year-low

 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?

Comments

  1. Love the solice and relaxation I find in a glass of wine, especially with conversation with good friends. "In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas."

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love the solice and relaxation I find in a glass of wine, especially with conversation with good friends. "In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas."

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Remove Before Flight

Remove Before Flight “The elevator’s trim, rudder’s trim, mixture’s rich, flaps are at ten degrees…” Pete, the PAHT-nah (partner), is talking through a pre-flight checklist as we wait to taxi from the Tauranga airport. In the nearly 12 months we’ve known each other, Pete’s talked about taking me flying. Now, with my departure from New Zealand less than ten days away, the weather, schedules, and aircraft maintenance have obliged so Pete can fulfill his promise. The sky is overcast, but the cloud ceiling will allow us to fly at 2,500 feet; it’s the weekend, so we’re not competing with flight school students for air time; and there’s a new-ish plane (called FCO, or Foxtrot Charlie Oscar) Pete has enough confidence in to haul what he calls “precious cargo,” which is me. Pete checks the Cessna 152 single-engine propeller aircraft as I watch. He walks the plane’s perimeter, inspecting flaps, wheels, the rudder… He gives me a couple wooden door-stopper-looking blocks (called chocks). “Remo...

Murder House

Murder House (MUH-dah House) The deed is done              “I don’t wanna go to the dentist. It’s gonna hurt,” says Fiona. I can hardly deny my eight-year-old the truth, but I can tiptoe around it.             “They’re going to rub medicine on your gums to numb them,” I tell her. “And they can put your tooth to sleep with a needle.”             Fiona gasps, “I don’t want a needle! No!” Oops. I shouldn’t have used the “n” word. Fiona starts her high-pitched screeching if she thinks a needle exists in the next room. When I got the kids immunized in preparation for dragging them round-the-world, Fiona cried as the nurse swabbed her upper arm with iodine. You would’ve thought someone was whacking off her limb with a rusty saw, yet the needle lay feet from Fiona’s body. New Zealand is not the place for dental work for a ...

The Affair

The Affair Ohope Beach, NZ I had an affair last week. I’m not ashamed to tell you, either. It was sweet and sad. It made me laugh, cry, sigh and dance in my chair to James Brown and Rupert Holmes. My Kiwi PAHT-nah, Pete, even facilitated the tryst, though neither of us knew what to expect beforehand. Pete watched the kids while I was gone for five nights. Five whole nights.  No kids. No TV. No partner.  I enjoyed a dalliance with my late husband, Sean (though I should write instead, ‘dead husband,’ because Sean hated being late). It happened in a wood-paneled house across the street from the ocean, in Ohope Beach, New Zealand. I attended a writer’s retreat to work on the memoir. I revised six sections totaling more than 40,000 words. In the course of revising- subtracting old text and adding entries from letters Sean had written me when we first started dating, plus journal entries he wrote around the time Fiona was born - I fell in love again. With Sea...