Incomplete commitment

Well, instead of staying wholly on the wagon, I have kept my resolution on weekdays and bowed to social pressure on the weekend. I drew a parentheses around the first Saturday of the new regime in order to enjoy an evening of beer and music-making. Having established that precedent, I have allowed myself a glass or two on subsequent Saturdays and Sundays.

The difference is that I don't have a committed partner in the experiment this time. Another difference is that I'm doing it for health reasons. From this point of view, partial abstinence is still an improvement and worth something. From a strictly moral point of view, one slip contaminates the purity of the whole enterprise.

Back on the wagon

Today I vowed to begin four weeks' abstinence from alcohol in order to lose weight. Shedding a few pounds was one achievement of the last period on the wagon. I undid it quickly though by returning to beer and abstaining from running.

In the five and a half months since I allowed myself to drink again, I have hardly thought about my experiment in abstinence. It was a different regime, to be sure, but it didn't change my consumption patterns at all. It seems I have two states: ON or OFF the wagon. Fortunately for me, the OFF state is compatible with family life and professional responsibilities. Drinking is part of an equilibrium that I seek to return to unless it's unavailable, in which case I make do.

My home stretch, but for some it never ends

Yesterday I realized I have five weeks to go before this experiment comes to an end. Cassandrus and I agreed that the last Sunday in Advent would be our last day on the wagon. Can I hoist a tankard after sundown? I may allow myself or I may just put it off another day.

If I resume drinking as usual, will I have learnt anything from this experience? Learning doesn't mean change, necessarily. I might say that I have learned that whatever problems I have aren't problems with alcohol. My life is little better or worse for having given it up. Perhaps that's because I did not launch any great self-improvement program of body or soul in conjunction with going on the wagon. I wasn't doing it for any particular reason, so it's not surprising that it hasn't accomplished anything.

I have learned something about the power of alcohol. I can stop drinking, but I can't stop wanting a drink. It's not a continuous thirst, but it is a distinct wish at certain times like the end of the day or in certain circumstances - like with the right foods, in company, under stress, at the end of a task, etc. Recovering alcoholics and former smokers say that the desire never goes away and I believe them.

Imperfection

Well, I took a drink - three days ago. I had received some disappointing professional news that day. An opportunity I had counted on was not going to happen. Once home I opened up a beer to accompany dinner preparations. Sure it was like calling an old friend I hadn't spoken to in a while. I drank it all but did not open a second one,nor have I opened another one since. It reminds me of a line from a Roches song: "Good men want a virgin,/So don't you give yourself too soon,/'Cept in an emergency like/Underneath the moon." So I'm on the wagon - except in emergencies.

Milepost,

One third of the way through the dry spell. Consulting the goals I outlined at the beginning, I note that I've lost a little weight (2% of starting weight) and that I'm sleeping through the night more often. So I've made some progress towards those goals. I'm running better, though that may just be a result of running more (ten miles yesterday morning, a half-marathon coming up this weekend). I still wish that I made more efficient use of time, though that may be a deeper issue.

Overall, I'm surprised at how little difference not drinking makes. At first I thought about it all the time, now only when I'm thirsty and ready to relax. Once the weather cools, I'll start brewing again.

Flirting with danger

At the beginning of this experiment I felt sad about giving up alcohol. I mourned the loss of the beer or wine I would have drunk when the occasions for them arose. Lately, I've felt more angry over this limitation, realizing that I have imposed it on myself. (See post of Aug. 19, beginning "Damn, I really want a beer.") This way of thinking jeopardizes the whole project.

Today, I was out of town, among strangers as well as friends, thirsty after a day's labor, and visiting a particular Mexican restaurant for the first time. I noticed the draft beer specials and ordered one. I did so knowingly and, if truth be told, spitefully. "What's so special about not drinking any alcohol?" I asked myself. "One beer in four weeks still counts as being on the wagon." The drinks came. One person in our group knew the significance of my order and expressed her surprise, even urging me to reconsider, while the others carried on regardless. I raised the glass, closed my eyes, and sipped. Thank God it was only Dos Equis, because the cheap beer taste struck my palate and marred my reunion with the brew. " "Prost," a tablemate said, so I raised it to my lips again.

After that I put it down and let eleven and a half ounces of beer just rest in the glass, which I did not pick up again. The unsatisfactory taste made it easier to stop, though in the past when drinking cheap commercial beer or unsuccessful homebrew, I've always finished what's in front of me and resolved to try something else for the next beer. Having another person nearby who knew what I was doing and having a partner in abstinence whom I would have to face sometime also helped me stop, though it did not prevent me from crossing the line in the first place. I'll tell you what tipped the balance: the thought - and it did not occur to me until after that first sip - that I would have to blog about this experience. Yes, dear reader, I could not bear to let you down.