Interesting article

[blondie]

Hi guys
Quick drive-through today to post a link to this article from the Sydney Morning Herald re a journalist's abstinence journey.

Here's to me

[mario]

Interesting article

Thanks blondie, this is it for those who cant open link.

So far so good for reporter Jill Stark who, after years of binge drinking, decided she needed a spell back on dry land.

I WAS the binge-drinking reporter. During the week I wrote about Australia's booze-soaked culture. On weekends I wrote myself off.

After four years documenting the nation's escalating toll of alcohol abuse as a health writer, I knew more than most about the consequences of risky drinking.

But it didn't deter me. I was first on the dance floor, last to leave the party and winner of the inaugural ''Jill Stark drinking award'' at last year's staff Christmas bash. When colleagues remarked on the irony, I'd tell them: ''Gonzo journalism. Just immersing myself in the story.''

Advertisement: Story continues below But as a particularly boozy December drew to a close and my 35th birthday loomed like a giant alarm clock, I realised the story was getting a bit tired. The hangovers were hitting harder and lasting longer. It had stopped being fun.

For years I hadn't questioned my ''big weekends'' because it was the social norm - among my friends and the community. Most Sunday mornings, Facebook is abuzz with vows of ''never again'' and tales of a few quiet drinks turning into a lost weekend.

As in my native Scotland, where teetotalism is punishable by death, Australia's bonding rituals largely take place over beers. We use alcohol to celebrate, commiserate and commemorate. Until recently it accompanied all my social events. Even my dance class was held in a pub.

Then I woke up on January 1. A new day, a new year but the same stinking hangover. And this one was a corker. It was 4pm before I crawled out of bed. I started thinking about what it would mean to remove alcohol from my life. Even with my guts churning and head pounding, the thought of not drinking for longer than a few weeks terrified me. I knew then I had to do it.

The idea of giving up alcohol for three months came from a Sunshine Coast man I interviewed last year, who quit drinking for 12 months and documented the experience online. Chris Raine's choice was seen by his friends as social suicide. But what began as a dare turned into Hello Sunday Morning, a social media-based phenomenon challenging Australia's binge-drinking culture.

It's a simple concept. Embarking on a three-, six- or 12-month period of abstinence, participants blog about their experiences - the public commitment helping to keep them accountable and make success more likely.

With more than 360 people signing up in 18 months, the movement is growing rapidly, attracting many in their 20s who feel they're drowning in a culture that implores them to drink at every juncture. The aim, says Raine, is not to demonise alcohol but provide perspective. ''It's easy to get swept up in a drinking culture. Sometimes we just need a rope to pull us back to dry land.''

I'd been a regular drinker since my teens and struggled to imagine how life could be anything but dull without it. Didn't the best nights out usually happen after a skinful? That liquid gold feeling when inhibitions dissolve and you share a buzz with friends. But I was about to turn 35. I had a grown-up job, a ridiculous mortgage and knees that made a cracking noise. I could no longer afford to drink like I was a teenager.

Stopping was easy. Two weeks in and I felt great. My head was clearer, my skin brighter, I was energised, happier and committed to becoming a responsible drinker. But I'd been here before. I'd twice tried FebFast - where you cut out alcohol in February to raise money for kids with drug and alcohol problems. Then, I'd put life on hold, waiting out my booze ban like a footballer pacing the sidelines, desperate to get back in the game.

Moderation has always been a harder proposition than abstinence. This time, I decided to embrace all the events at which I'd normally drink, instead of staying home to avoid temptation.

There were tough moments. A 40-degree day watching my friends drink chilled sangria in the pool. Them: a bottle of sauvignon blanc. Me: organic lemonade.

Then came the moment. It was the eve of Australia Day at a friend's birthday party in my favourite rock club. A bunch of my closest mates, great music and a bar serving free beer and Jagermeister - this was going to be a huge challenge. For the first time, I questioned whether I'd resist temptation. A friend who calls me ''Rockin' Jill'' - a tribute to my enthusiastic dancing style - was concerned that, without beer, I would rock no more. By 10pm his fears proved unfounded. I hit the dance floor, my body buzzing, arms and legs blissfully ignoring the voice in my head: ''You can't dance sober.''

Jumping around like a kid, it seemed so obvious - it's not beer or shots that make a night special - it's good music, great company, feeling loved and the sense of confidence you project when those elements align. This was a revelation. Before then, I couldn't imagine what a big night would look like without alcohol. Now I know. It looks clearer and the feelings last longer.

But there was a bigger epiphany to come. That night I busted my belief that alcohol is an essential element in any romantic connection. There was a cute guy. There was chatting. There was dancing. There was a kiss.

Sober, I felt more in control. My words were honest and considered, not delivered in a nervous jumble of expectation and awkwardness. I felt more confident and attractive than I would have had I been slurring words and slamming tequila shots.

As I drove home at 2.30am, heart racing, I smiled when I realised there would be no hangover.

I started questioning every belief I held about alcohol's role in my life. I believed alcohol gave me the courage to speak my mind. Often, this unfiltered honesty got me into trouble - such as the now legendary post-work drinks at which I gave my editor an hour-long masterclass on how she should run the paper.

Alcohol gives us a convenient safety net should the recipient of our truth-telling not react in the way we like. ''It was the booze talking.'' Removing alcohol leaves you with no excuses. Without hangovers to blame for my procrastination, I could see what was holding me back - fear. I started to do the things I'd been putting off. I spring-cleaned my apartment, started running and singing again. It felt good.

But there were days when I really craved a drink. Almost always it had an emotional root, usually stress. Alcohol might ''take the edge off'' but the next morning those edges are sharper and cut you deeper.

After nearly two months, and more social hurdles vaulted in the glow of sobriety, I noticed that the settings in which I'd usually reach for the wine bottle no longer triggered that Pavlovian response.

I began to find my abstinence was more an issue for those around me. ''When is all this going to stop Starkers?'' some would ask in exasperation. I didn't think turning off the beer tap had muted my personality but sometimes it felt that without booze I'd become invisible.

People would raise their glasses in ''cheers'' but wouldn't clink mine because it was filled with water. Some friends disappeared altogether, alcohol seemingly the only glue in the relationship. Others acted with defensiveness, as if my choice was a judgment on their drinking habits.

Some saw it as a personal challenge to get me back on the sauce. At one party, despite repeatedly telling the host I was driving (my default excuse when I couldn't be bothered explaining), he was so insistent I have ''just one beer'' that I said I'd necked a couple of whiskies before I left home, just to make him stop.

I can only imagine how tedious it is for people who never drink to face this constant pressure and judgment.

When you opt out, you start to see the absurdity of alcohol propping up practically every social pastime. Nowhere was this more apparent than the Australian Open - which has renamed its biggest day ''Heineken Saturday''. When I visited, I saw shirtless young men staggering around, clearly only there to get drunk, much like the punters passed out face down in the turf every year at the Melbourne Cup. It seems ludicrous that these sports events are awash with booze, a substance not conducive to sporting success.

Swimming against that tide was always going to be a challenge. Having a sober birthday was to be an even bigger one. I'd planned to finish up my Hello Sunday Morning stint a week early to give my youth the send-off it deserved. My brother, his wife and my two nieces were coming to Melbourne to celebrate and I figured one week shy of three booze-free months was good enough.

By the time of my birthday on March 24, the notion that not drinking would make that family time less fulfilling seemed ridiculous.

Without the support of friends, family and colleagues I wouldn't have made it through this experience. Two weeks ago in a Melbourne beer garden, some of them joined me as I had my first booze-free birthday party in almost 20 years. There were moments I felt like joining them in a beer, but they were fleeting.

Knowing I don't need alcohol to be confident, honest or affectionate has greatly diminished the value I place on it, but I think there are more lessons to be learnt if I want to fundamentally change the way I drink. Alcohol will be part of my life again, I'm sure, but I feel so much more healthy, calm and motivated right now. I'm reluctant to give that up just yet.

So this binge-drinking reporter is trying another three months without booze. Will a girls' weekend be just as much fun without champagne? I'll tell you at the end of June.

Jill Stark is the health writer for

The Sun-Herald's sister publication The Sunday

[fluff]

Interesting article

Thanks Blondie, great article!

[coalfire]

Interesting article

Very interesting article from a normie(and thanks for typing it out Mario)

[cymru]

Interesting article

Thanks Blondie, and cheers for the paste and post Mario.

[DreamThinkDo]

Interesting article

Reading back, and bumping up as I go....

[available]

Interesting article

Great article but she classifies herself as a binge drinker and not an alcoholic. That seems to be the norm in Aus we are all just binge drinkers and not alkies but a great and honest article.

Thanks for the post.