Quitting the Devil’s Water (Day Seven)

June 17, 2007 | Filed Under Uncategorized 

Seven days without a drop to drink, including a whole weekend. To everyone who didn’t think I’d make it this far. UP YOURS.

I did want to take a moment to write up some sort of rationale behind my quitting. The reaction I got from various friends was somewhat dismaying. It ranged from being indifferent to giving me the have-you-gone-loopy line of questioning. I heard stuff like “but you like to drink!”, “you dont have a problem!”, or “yeah yeah.. you’ll be off the wagon this coming saturday”.

If this was me quitting smoking. Would the responses have been the same? In today’s society, when someone decides to quit smoking, they get cheers, applause and a go-for-it love from friends. But if one decides to lay down the bottle, the world suddendly becomes a lonely place.

I know my friends probably thought I was just being overly dramatic - like how on that sunday morning when waking up with a monster hangover, you’d raise your fist to the skies and swear to never drink again, and then the following weekend, that promise is forgotten quickly. I’ve done my share of those.

This time around, its a bit different. Last week, I went out three nights in a row. I drank myself into a total stupor every night. The first night, which was a Thursday night, I said I’d go out, have a drink with friends, then turn in early.

Six drinks, two nightclubs and five hours later, I was stumbling down 14th street looking for a guy that I knew was clearly bad news for me, but because I can’t quite get over this guy, I went looking for him anyway. I found him - and I was too drunk to make much sense. I remember him saying “you be good” and leaving. I walked home berating myself for being so stupid, mainly by going lookin for trouble that I don’t need at the time, and making a fool of myself when I did find trouble. And I was a lousy mood all day at work. I didn’t get anything done because I was short on sleep.

Friday night was the better night of the three. I didn’t do anything I’d come to regret later, but it was still another late night out. Too many drinks and I struggled around all day. I was supposed to run my eight-miler. I didn’t because I was too tired. I was supposed to do some errands, which I never got around to doing because I was too tired.

But ironically, I wasn’t too tired to go out that night. I met up with friends at my house. I remember having several vodka shots. I remember walking over to the club. It was a special event night, so instead of the $10 cover, it was $20.

And thats it. The rest is a slippery blur of faces and more drinks. I found myself in my friend’s car in front of my house arguing with my friend about how I wanted to join him out to another party. And my friend kicked me out of the car and told me to go sleep.

In the stark light of Sunday morning, with a massive hangover pounding my head to pieces, I put things together. I’d blown perhaps a hundred bucks on booze and cover charges for events I barely remember. I’d blown off things I needed to do. I’d skipped one eight-mile run, and I most certainly wasn’t going to do one that day with this hangover strangling my brain. I’d gotten nothing done at work Friday either.

It was then that I realized that my life needs a subtraction. If I’m going to get stuff done. If I’m going to run a marathon this fall. If I’m going to photograph the Deep South in August, then I need to stop drinking and get my shit together.

One of my friends said to me - “you dont need to quit.. just have one drink per night or something like that.”

I thought about that too. But drinking is just a hole I fall into too easily. I need to walk around it completely.

Now a week later, I find it’s actually given me a sort of clarity. Now that I can’t drink, it’s forced me to more carefully examine the reason why I’m going out. So I’m not heading out on every excuse I can think of, and then prop things up with a few drinks.

Here’s to the next seven days.

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