Off the wagon

Well, we resumed drinking last night. I drank a few beers while playing poker. I didn't count how many, but it was enough after a few months off to give me a hangover. I had a mild headache all day, then rushed in late to a dress rehearsal for a choral performance tonight. At the conclusion of the first piece we sang I suddenly noticed that I was feeling more like myself. I was able to concentrate and enjoy the evening.

I felt so good that by the time I got home after the singing I was ready for another beer. I was thirsty and feeling celebratory. It was late, however, and it would mean one less to enjoy over the rest of the week. But I still wanted it. In previous times, the fact that I wanted it would have won out over all the other arguments. Now, however, I know I can manage, if not control my desires. I saved it for another night.

Here's my motto for the new year: "Informed intemperance"

End in sight

A week from Sunday I can allow myself a drink again. No more rueful sighs at 6:00 PM, after some outdoor work on a weekend, or when company comes. Once I remove the prohibition will I be able to control the impulse? Well, I controlled it in the past before I considered it a possible problem. I expect my old habits to reestablish themselves.

But if they do, is that a good thing? I have learned something about the centrality of alcohol in my life by doing without it. I hope I can return to it more judiciously in the months ahead.

I should come up with a set of questions I should ask myself in a few weeks or monthes time as a check of how I'm doing.

In a few weeks:

• Have I been drinking more than I did before I went on the wagon? ("More" means in excess of a dozen beers in a week or three bottles of wine in a week with one bottle of wine substituting for four beers.)


• Am I drinking when I go out to eat? (I did this before, but it's an indulgence and a budget-buster.)

In a few months:

• Do I try to conceal how much I have drunk?


• Do I drink after the others have gone to bed?


• Have I lost my temper more often?
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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.

Vinegar

I have begun drinking diluted vinegar over ice in the evening, when I would normally have drunk something alcoholic. I find it answers many of the same needs as beer or wine.

For one thing the preparation of it is a satisfying little ritual. It takes a little time to shake out about two ounces of vinegar, dilute it with two to three parts water, add some ice, cut and squeeze a wedge of lemon, and stir. It's not unlike uncapping a bottle, choosing the right glass, pouring carefully, and rinsing the dregs out so as to be able to reuse the bottle.

The taste isn't bad. When the acidic sting is diminished other flavors can come out. I've been sampling wine vinegars so far, but I'll see if cider vinegars have a different flavor profile. Vinegar come from wine that has soured when exposed to acetobacter in the air. They work on strong ale, too, changing the ethanol to acetic acid and producing "alegar."

It is mentionedl in all four gospels that soldiers at the crucifixion offered Jesus a sponge filled with vinegar. I always thought this an odd detail. At some point I learned that diluted, soured wine was the soldier's drink.

Get thee behind me, Bacchus!

It's Thursday, so just as I did two weeks ago I came home with my throat dry from talking and with a feeling of elation at having taught a satisfactory class. Better circumstances for enjoying a beer you will never find. I surely wanted one, but I found myself concentrating instead on how to turn some leftovers into a meal and getting the news of the day from the family. When the meal was done I realized I could now stand the idea of not drinking. Desires come and possess us, but the sad and reassuring truth is that they pass. We are not constituted by our desires.