HEALTH | SELF IMPROVEMENT | CREATIVITY
How I feel five weeks after I stopped drinking
Some of my favourite authors were alcoholics. Ernest Hemingway. Jack Kerouac. Charles Bukowski. So I figured, subconsciously at least, that if I wanted to be an author, I had to drink too.
Then, five weeks ago, I decided to give sobriety a try. (It’s not the first time, as I mentioned in an earlier article, but it might be the last.) And I started writing again.
In doing so, I discovered that what worked for them doesn’t work for me.
It was American comedian, writer and actor W.C. Fields who said, “I feel sorry for people who don’t drink, because when they get up in the morning, it’s as good as they’ll feel all day.”
Well, let me just say, five weeks into sobriety, that if the best I’m going to feel is when I get up the morning, then that’s fine by me.
Because when I get up, I feel great.
Now that I’m not drinking:
I sleep better
I’m not going to bother getting into the science of how alcohol disrupts sleep. I mean, it’s obvious enough when you struggle out your warm, comfy bed into the cold darkness and stumble your way to the bathroom once, twice, three a night times to empty your bladder. Now, on top of sleeping through the night, I feel like I have a deeper sleep, too. My dreams are more vivid, and I can recall them more easily when I wake up. And instead of growling and rolling over when I see the sun poke through the blinds, I smile and get up to greet it.
I look better
Five weeks without a drink sure trims the physique. Alcohol can cause inflammation and bloating, and it sure does with me. And most alcoholic drinks (the ones I enjoyed at least) were packed with calories. A few days without a drink and my beer belly disappeared. A few weeks, and I can see abs. Well, one ab at least. Then there’s my face. I was getting used to the tired, bloodshot look in my eyes, the dark circles underneath, the slightly yellow tinge to my skin, but they’re gone. I’m not going to say I look younger, but there’s no question that I look healthier.
I have more energy
I mean, way more. Hangovers are one thing, but the near-constant drain on your system caused by even casual consumption takes its toll after a while. Before I stopped drinking, an afternoon nap was a necessity. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that — I’m still a strong advocate of the siesta.) But now I can power through the entire day — work, play, exercise, you name it — without even needing to reach for a cup of coffee.
I feel more
Emotions, I mean. I’ve always considered myself a sensitive person, and there’s no doubt in my mind that alcohol dulls that sensitivity. Which can be a good thing in certain situations. But going through life with dulled emotions is no way to live. It took a few weeks for my emotions to slowly, tentatively well up again. They took me by surprise when they finally surfaced. But now I rejoice in happiness and wallow and sadness and, frankly, enjoy the highs and lows I hadn’t felt for so long.
My imagination returned
Now I don’t know if there’s any science behind this, but I swear my imagination has come back in full force. As a kid, I had a very active imagination. I made-believe and day-dreamed all the time. As I got older, I lost touch with that ability. So imagine my surprise the other day when, as I lay back watching the sky from my bedroom window, I began to see the clouds transform into various shapes. Animals, mostly, but faces too. I couldn’t help but laugh — not only because I was entertained, but because I hadn’t been that easily entertained in… well, I don’t know how long.
My will is stronger
Will is a powerful force. It’s what impels us to do what we do. But the more I drink, the less willpower I have. I could sit down and write, or… I could crack a beer and stare at a screen. When I decided to stop drinking is when I made that first great effort of will. By choosing not to drink one day, I exerted a small amount of will that has only increased with each day that followed.
And did I mention that I’m writing again?
My plan has always been to peak as a writer around the age of 60. Which means I need my faculties about me and can’t check out early.
Which I’m starting to think, for me, means no drinking. To wit:
- Hemingway’s gradual decline that ended in suicide at 61 was only hurried by heavy drinking.
- Kerouac died at 47 from an abdominal hemorrhage attributed to a lifetime of alcohol abuse.
- Bukowski was in his 30s when his liver, enlarged by alcoholism, almost killed him. He made it to 73 before leukemia did it.
I’m nowhere near being in the same category as these guys, in terms of drinking or writing.
But I’d rather take myself out of the competition than have alcohol do it for me.
How do you feel when you’re not drinking? Tell me about it in the comments or tag me in a story!
