I've alluded in other threads to the fact that I am reaching the end of my rope with alcohol. It's become something that my mind, body, career and future simply cannot take anymore.
A year ago I thought that baclofen had saved my life because I was losing interest at one or two beers a night instead of four or six. Naturally, whatever was wrong with me was strictly related to alcohol and it would resolve itself with less drinking. But here I find myself one year, two jobs and three dwellings later with the unsettling realization that not much has changed. I still passively coast through life single, with no savings, few friends, working on contract and approaching 30.
I had a history professor who quoted a historian who had studied revolutions and social movements: "A vast misconception is that every social upheaval was caused by things getting worse and worse and worse until there was a snapping point- this is not true at all. If we look at the French Revolution, The Peasant Rebellion or the Civil Rights movement we see that things actually got slightly better before the upheaval started. When people got a taste of concession they grew impatient and demanding because things did not get better fast enough. That inflection point of improvement is the catalyst of massive change."
This is where I am at. Now that things are no longer getting worse I've come to realize what I'm missing out on by continuing to drink moderately. By leaving it at two beers a night, I let myself off the hook to do anything useful or proactive, extinguishing the fire from beneath my ass that used to motivate me. Let's face up to an important fact: Sobriety is uncomfortable. When you're sober you know that you're wasting time. When you're sober you know that you're broke. When you're sober you know that you're lonely. Sobriety is intolerably boring- you are fully aware that the charge is upon you to make it better.
Another thing is that I am physically getting less tolerant of alcohol. Quitting zoloft was hell, and it's left me in sensitive territory as far as hangovers go. This has become progressively apparent in the past couple of weeks. The weekend before last I had 2 tankers that ruined that night's sleep. This past weekend I had one tanker at the same restaurant that ruined the next three nights of sleep. I've gotten to the point where I'm just starting to hate alcohol.
Around this month 9 years ago I was at a similar point with pot. That semester I had taken 22 hours, and my anxiety was through the roof. My weeks were spent with little sleep and guzzling caffeine, and my weekends were spent violently blacking out to forget it all. Over thanksgiving break I thought I could finally relax by smoking again, but the panic attacks, feelings of doom and the sense I was throwing my life away were just overwhelming. After the semester ended I tried it over Christmas break but I still could not stand what it did to me. I decided that enough was enough- I did not even know that the last time would be the last as the decision to quit crystalized sometime around New Years.
I've come full circle- I know I've got to quit because my body and life can't take much more mediocrity. When I think of the things that were made possible from that decision 9 years ago I almost cry with gratitude. I'm not going to count days or apply any metrics or otherwise make a sport of sobriety. I'm just going to do this.
A year ago I thought that baclofen had saved my life because I was losing interest at one or two beers a night instead of four or six. Naturally, whatever was wrong with me was strictly related to alcohol and it would resolve itself with less drinking. But here I find myself one year, two jobs and three dwellings later with the unsettling realization that not much has changed. I still passively coast through life single, with no savings, few friends, working on contract and approaching 30.
I had a history professor who quoted a historian who had studied revolutions and social movements: "A vast misconception is that every social upheaval was caused by things getting worse and worse and worse until there was a snapping point- this is not true at all. If we look at the French Revolution, The Peasant Rebellion or the Civil Rights movement we see that things actually got slightly better before the upheaval started. When people got a taste of concession they grew impatient and demanding because things did not get better fast enough. That inflection point of improvement is the catalyst of massive change."
This is where I am at. Now that things are no longer getting worse I've come to realize what I'm missing out on by continuing to drink moderately. By leaving it at two beers a night, I let myself off the hook to do anything useful or proactive, extinguishing the fire from beneath my ass that used to motivate me. Let's face up to an important fact: Sobriety is uncomfortable. When you're sober you know that you're wasting time. When you're sober you know that you're broke. When you're sober you know that you're lonely. Sobriety is intolerably boring- you are fully aware that the charge is upon you to make it better.
Another thing is that I am physically getting less tolerant of alcohol. Quitting zoloft was hell, and it's left me in sensitive territory as far as hangovers go. This has become progressively apparent in the past couple of weeks. The weekend before last I had 2 tankers that ruined that night's sleep. This past weekend I had one tanker at the same restaurant that ruined the next three nights of sleep. I've gotten to the point where I'm just starting to hate alcohol.
Around this month 9 years ago I was at a similar point with pot. That semester I had taken 22 hours, and my anxiety was through the roof. My weeks were spent with little sleep and guzzling caffeine, and my weekends were spent violently blacking out to forget it all. Over thanksgiving break I thought I could finally relax by smoking again, but the panic attacks, feelings of doom and the sense I was throwing my life away were just overwhelming. After the semester ended I tried it over Christmas break but I still could not stand what it did to me. I decided that enough was enough- I did not even know that the last time would be the last as the decision to quit crystalized sometime around New Years.
I've come full circle- I know I've got to quit because my body and life can't take much more mediocrity. When I think of the things that were made possible from that decision 9 years ago I almost cry with gratitude. I'm not going to count days or apply any metrics or otherwise make a sport of sobriety. I'm just going to do this.
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