Tonight I came home from the first meeting of my Religion in America class. In the past I would start to thirst for a beer on the ride home. Preparation for a class usually ended in a crescendo of work, and I felt exhilarated after a couple of hours of mental alertness in front of thirty college students. It gave me a fleeting moment of regret to drink seltzer instead, but it did not diminish my pleasure in a task satisfactorily completed.

The document collection I'm using has some fiery sermons on temperance. Lyman Beecher in 1828 saw it as so fundamental to the survival of the union and alcohol as so corrupting of the nation's character that he hinted darkly that extra-legal means might be necessary to effect this necessary change.

As intemperance increases, the power of taxation will come more and more into the hands of men of intemperate habits and desperate fortunes. . . . [W]hen those who hodl the property of a nation cannot be protected in their rights, they will change the form of government, peaceably if they may, by violence if they must.

Wow! Talk about tea parties!

Deprivation blues

I was in a doctor's office today. To liven up a routine visit I pointed to a poster on his wall and asked about kidney stones. I'm not at particularly high risk for them, and I haven't heard that they run in my family, but having lost one kidney already it would be a more serious matter for me if the other one were impaired. The doctor told me I should drink plenty of water and avoid foods high in oxalates. He gave me a list of foods to avoid, which included several of my staples. You can Google "foods high in oxalates" and get the whole picture, but I'll mention that nuts and chocolate are on the list. Dr. D. was most emphatic that I should restrict my intake of TEA. Jesus wept. All this and now the teacup is taken from my lips.

The solitary bottle in the fridge

There is a bottle of delicious IPA in our refrigerator. It has been there for a week, since we had some friends over to watch a movie. This beer was left over. It is cold and lonely; it comes from one of the best batches I have ever brewed, and it wants to be consumed! Right now, and every time I open the refrigerator. It stares at me and says "please drink me immediately! You know you want to! I know that you are on the wagon, but you can make an exception THIS ONE TIME. You don't have to tell anybody."

What to do? "And lead us not into temptation"? That would mean taking the beer back out of the fridge and putting it back in the case. Or foisting it upon the next visitor, whether they like beer or not. Or, horror of horrors, either break the bottle or pour the beer down the drain.

I am going to do no such thing. Temptation is ok. I am not giving in to it. At some point some dear friend will come and drink this beer; and if not, I will do so on December 25.

Wagging the dog

I still find myself expecting a drink at certain occasions during the day. For instance, I thought about going to get a pizza for dinner tonight and pictured myself driving to the pizza parlor, giving my order to the server and then - AHH! - sipping a beer while it was prepared. I must admit that I in the past I have ordered pizza this way instead of calling ahead and simply picking it up so that I would have time for a beer and a few minutes of sports reporting on the restaurant tv. In other words, it was no accident that I took advantage of the time to have a beer. The whole outing was structured to give myself that opportunity. Consuming one beer away from the house gave me a headstart, by the way, so I could come home, drink my usual one or two, and be ahead of the game.

So, instead of saying that certain situations are cues for having a drink, I should say that the need to have a drink was shaping parts of my day. Oh, that's heavy. I've never looked at it that way before. So now I'm free to do things that aren't related to getting a drink. Well, what should I do with myself? I think drinking moderately and regularly as I did kept me from considering that question as seriously as I might have done. Or as I might do now.

Social hour with my colleagues and superiors

Well, tonight was one of those occasions when I would have normally enjoyed not just a beer, but two or three nice cocktails. A dinner party at work with colleagues and superiors present: not just my boss, but also their boss, and the boss of that person. That's how far down I am on the food chain. LOL. Hobnobbing, networking, and jostling for position were the order of the day, and everyone was drinking. I was walking around with my seltzer water but no one commented on my abstinence.

It was all good, though. Far from being an ordinary social, this was a chance to make an impression on behalf of my entire unit. And instead of having my senses dulled by a few drinks, I felt sharp. While the others drank their second or third drink, I remained the person who had walked in the door. I may not always get what I want out of this job, but at least it's nice to know that I was at peak mental capacity, and that's worth giving up a few drinks.

Unhappy hour

"Damn, I really want a beer." - That's what I said last night after I came home later than usual and had to deal with a little family crisis before preparing dinner and had to face the disappointment of NOT watching "South Pacific" on TV because thunderstorms were interrupting our over-the-air TV reception.

Again tonight, as I cooked dinner by myself, awaiting the rest of the family, I felt how incomplete the process was without a glass of something. I knew also that several bottles of wine and even a few beers were downstairs within reach. It would have been a sordid thing to break my resolution, though, and so I did not do it.

I mentioned how social situations provide cues for drinking. Now I see how other factors such as mood, appetite, and especially time of day also create strong expectations. They pass, though. Am I the better for letting them pass? I don't know. At least I have something to think about. At least I know that I can survive not fulfilling them.

11 days and counting

It is sometimes said that on a trip, people get homesick in 7 day intervals: Day 3, Day 10, Day 17--after that, with decreasing frequency. I have experienced this phenomenon in my own extensive travels, but I have found that I often did not realize that I was homesick but believed that I was depressed or anxious for some other reason.

Well, Days 10/11 were like that for me. I can't imagine drinking right now, and I am in one of those phases when I think that I may never drink again. I like going to bed sober, and I like the fact that I can eat more than before without worrying about my weight. I also like that my medication can now work unimpeded. Finally, I love the example that I am setting for my children. But yet the blues hit me yesterday as I heard tales of impending budget cuts at work, and my thoughts betrayed the fact that it was not the issues of work that I was worried the most about. I felt like I had crossed some kind of Rubicon, but not to conquer Gaul, like Julius Caesar, but into a new and somewhat scary phase of my life. A phase that might be devoid of some of the routine pleasures in more ways than just giving up alcohol.

But I reminded myself of the chronology and looked out the window at a campus where most of us have jobs that are secure, even in these uncertain times. And I counted my blessings.

Emotional distance

A counselor once advised me that alcohol put "emotional distance" between the drinker and his family. That was twelve years ago, and I remember it still because it touches what matters most to me - the family - and because, unlike a lot of criticisms about drinking that I can rationalize or dismiss, this one rings true.

For example, I like to think I'm available and open to my children. I can recall, however, instances of being just too sleepy to follow what they were saying. Alcohol isn't the only thing that can preclude emotional connection, and I don't say I can't drink and still be a sensitive dad, but at least a period of abstinence makes me more aware of what it costs me to drink. I'll know what to look out for next time I do.

My mother and the wagon

After a bit more than a week, I finally decided to call my mother (in Germany) and tell her about my life on the wagon. She is a social drinker from a family of fairly heavy social drinkers; one reason why I am testing my relationship with alcohol periodically. I called her to update her on our family's happenings here in the United States over the past three or four weeks. A lot has happened, and she liked all of my stories, but she did NOT like my being on the wagon.

Every time I have done this, my alcohol cessation has appeared, to her, like a veiled accusation. It isn't that, of course--I would never presume to tell anyone else how to live their lives, and I am not on a crusade to convince others that life on the wagon is a good idea. I really am in this for my own reasons, nothing else. In addition, when I drink, I drink more than my mother, so my situation is different from hers anyway. Unlike her, I never drink every day anyway, but I also like to have five or six drinks on a weekend night when I do not have to drive. But my mother is having a hard time with this one; maybe she realizes that she needs her daily dose of alcohol and that she could never pull this off. Even more likely, she rationalizes her own drinking by believing that moderate alcohol use is better than not drinking at all.

The conversation contributed to my thinking about changing my drinking patterns permanently after the wagon, perhaps by imposing a limit on the number of days per week/month on which I can drink. Right now I feel like never drinking again because I feel better than I have in a long time. Last week was really difficult for reasons unrelated to the wagon, and I feel that I have more energy. It helps that my hip (which I injured at martial arts last December) feels better than at any point since the injury; I know alcohol produces inflammation, and that's not what I need right now. Also, I have lost three pounds and feel great about that!

Friday, I'm in love

Yesterday was my first alcohol-free Friday - probably ever in my adult life. In midweek I wasn't thinking about drinking so much. On Friday, however, I found myself feeling the need for a beer much more often. These unbidden promptings arose whenever I looked forward to the end of the day, when I strolled down Tryon St. past various places offering happy hours, and when I had a minute to kill waiting for a take-out order to be ready. There's something special about Friday that I have always marked with a drink. It signals that I can relax, shed responsibility, flirt and joke. That's why I always thought that the song by the Cure that I quoted in the title was an ode to the day itself rather than a declaration of fickle feelings.

Anyway, I passed up all the opportunities to sneak a beer and enjoyed the same dinner mentioned in the previous post. I relaxed and joked nonetheless.

Day 7

Seven nights equals one week! We celebrated by getting together and eating take-out Indian food--accompanied by orange juice and seltzer. Yum!

Another day that would have been much worse with alcohol

I made it through a tough day today where every ounce of my personal skills, diplomacy, empathy, and intelligence were required. I survived until the end because I just had more energy. I had once again slept better than expected, which really helped. Then I saw three colleagues/friends for lunch and watched them all drink those great beers--but it was not even difficult for me to watch them.

I learned today that we will have a martial arts test in November to determine who gets admitted to the cycle to train for the second degree black belt. This will be a very tall order for me, especially with my injuries, but it may be doable if I drop weight as expected. And my hip still did not hurt today, even after the long run yesterday and a round of martial arts.

The Fatal Glass of Beer

Thanks to Carol for a comment on Post #3. It puts things in perspective to reflect that the social problems caused by abstention from alcohol are nothing compared to those caused by drinking.

I'm looking forward to a new surge of energy and optimism . . . any day now . . . hello? I'll need it once the academic year begins. Two weeks from today I'll be in front of students again. I remember how much I looked forward to a beer after class. I'll have to devise some other reward. How about not delaying bedtime?

Day 5 of 149

I have lots of positives to report. Yes, coffee seems less interesting--does that mean that this is more Mormon than Muslim? Well, probably not, though coffee (a stimulant) and alcohol (a CNS depressant) certainly work at cross purposes. I drink less coffee but it seems to taste better. The big change I have noticed is greatly decreased appetite at dinner; the first sign of the metabolic changes associated with quitting alcohol. By contrast, I'm ravenous at lunch. This switch should help lose weight.

I ran nine miles tonight, in 85 degree heat but pain free. I read somewhere that alcohol can aggravate inflammation; I have been diagnosed with an acetabular labral tear, which won't heal without surgery. Usually the hip bothers me after about five miles, or at the latest when I stop running; tonight it has been over an hour, and I am still not feeling any pain.

In terms of my mood, I can concentrate slightly better but have trouble staving off unhappy and pessimistic thoughts. Alcohol used to give me a vacation from these. There is a better way.

Living in my own private Ramadan

The Muslim holy month begins today. I think their self-imposed deprivations are harder than mine. I'm overcoming custom and habit, they're suppressing basic needs. Intentionally changing custom and habit has led so far to some reflections on self-improvement and the society in which I move. The point of fasting is to attain spiritual wisdom rather than mere insight into the workings of this life. This program of mine hasn't yielded any spiritual fruit yet, but I remain open to it.

I notice I haven't been drinking as much coffee - none at all the last two days. A mug of tea in the morning and one in the afternoon seems about right. This is not a substitution. I used to drink two to three cups of coffee on top of the tea consumption. I'm giving my urinary system a vacation.

Made it through my first challenge!

Day 4 is usually a hard day; I don't drink every single night anyway, but three days is usually the longest I go between drinks. I had a difficult day that left me drained and depressed and wanted not one beer, but three or four to deal with things and to allow me to sleep. But I did not: even though I knew that alcohol would allow me to sleep, it would also wake me up a few hours later and leave me worse off than I was before. I still got little sleep, but it was quality sleep that left me at least somewhat rested. In general, that is the only physical "symptom"--that I sleep better than I did before.

So far, OK.

Perhaps, I thought, I should have begun this experiment at a later date - after the family visit - or ended it earlier, so as to be able to enjoy a glass or two at holiday gatherings. I think, however, if I had waited to choose the perfect time to attempt it I would never have begun. An impulsive commitment is one way to realize a good intention.

So far the physical effects are minimal. Sleeping is uneven, alertness and mood seem about the same. I don't think about beer all the time, just at the times when I would normally have one. I caught myself saying "Now for a beer while I grill some turkey burgers," yesterday, beer being one of reasons I enjoy grilling so much. I got over it. The task at hand was enough to take my mind off it, just as the sociability of a table full of cousins getting back in touch with each other took my mind off the absence of wine in my glass.

I have found this same problem to be the most pressing challenge on the wagon. Friends, family, everyone knows you as someone whom they can share a few beers with. Refusing an alcoholic beverage, whether as host or as guest, creates awkward situations. During my previous experiences, in addition to the changed social dynamics, I have often found drinkers to be defensive in the presence of someone who doesn't drink, as if the non-drinker were a walking accusation of their habit. I have spent a lot of time patiently explaining why I am doing this, and have often achieved reassurance only when I reiterated that I would be a fun social drinker again. I guess most people accept and applaud an alcoholic quitting alcohol altogether, but they cannot imagine quitting voluntarily, even if only for a limited period of time. I think everyone who habitually drinks every day should try it just to see if they are addicted or not.

Today I came home and my wife (who just about never drinks) had entertained three guests, each of whom drank a homebrew. It was weird cleaning up those beer mugs knowing that I could not have one!

It's hard to refuse an offer of a drink without seeming to reject someone's hospitality. We have family staying with us this week, and I worry that I'm withdrawing from the festivities and not honoring them if I don't have a drink with them. It's hard also not to offer someone a drink and still feel like a good host.

If I were acting out of moral conviction about the evils of alcohol I might not feel this embarrassment. I am acting instead out of a sense of curiosity and of personal challenge. Now I see that abstaining from alcohol for an extended period will require some readjustments in my social interactions.

One makes decisions for oneself, but then commitments must be played out in social settings. Therefore, part of the resolve to change behavior should include discussion with those in one's social circle, for they will have the power to reinforce or undermine the commitment one has made personally. I made my decision in secret to the surprise of those who have served me drinks in the past.

Day two already!

From T at home:

A statement of goals:

I hope that not drinking for four and a half months will enable me to lose weight and perform better athletically, professionally and personally.

Weight - I weigh about 12% more now than I did in college, which was thirty years ago. My clothes tell me I've added a few pounds lately and I'd like to reverse this trend.

Athletic performance - I measure this chiefly by how far and how fast I can run, though I swim and bike too and have lifted weights in the past. Last year, at the peak of marathon training, I was able to cruise along at 9:00 to 9:15 per mile. If a five percent weight reduction resulted in a comparable increase in speed, I could expect to see times closer to 8:30 or 8:45.

Professional performance - I will be pursuing a full-time and a part-time job this fall, and I need to show better focus and time management than when I attempted the same last spring. Progress in meeting one set of responsibilities always came at the expense of meeting the other set of responsibilities. Maybe they can never both be met fully, but if not drinking leads to less self-indulgence and more realistic planning, I'll at least have given it my best shot.

Personal performance - I'll look for effects in terms of personal health and family life. The key to all this will be getting a good night's sleep. If I can sleep through the night or at least get back to sleep after the cats wake me up, I'll count more thorough rest as one of the benefits of this experiment and see which others flow from that.