Costa Rica, Abstinence & 3 Months in Squares
Dehydrated, I cracked open my crusted eyelids. I felt like absolute garbage. A pounding headache and unquenchable thirst were the first to greet me. They lingered the entire day. I snacked on ibuprofen and felt lightheaded during a family dinner, wondering how I had such a wicked hangover. I couldn’t function. You’d think I partied all night and chugged down endless bottles with the best of company.
Reality was that I had two glasses of wine in the solitude of my apartment. I’d gone for a walk with a friend that afternoon, stopped by an art gallery that evening, engaged with the owner, a lovely man in his eighties, and planned to unwind with the book he gifted me and some wine that night. Nothing about it screamed “party girl” and I certainly had enough restraint from it to ever be considered alcoholic. I wasn’t an addict. I could live without it. But lately, I wanted and craved it, and especially when I’d get home and all was quiet...too quiet. I’d been struggling with a nagging depression, stress from life, and thoughts that felt too difficult to just sit with in silence. I’d noticed my body began reacting to alcohol much differently than it used to. Its intoxicating lift hit way faster and the unpleasant side effects seemed to take precedence over its temporary, reality numbing promises.
I did not want to take anti-depressants again. I also didn’t want to dabble in THC, even if legal and low dosage. It all seemed to only exacerbate the anxiety I worked hard to minimize. I wasn’t addicted, but I was definitely coping and began to feel a reliance anytime the depressive low and anxiety became too much. Each time I’d drink and settle into that buzzed haze, it only put me deeper into the depression I was trying to escape. I was shocked how awful I felt for having only consumed two beverages. It felt like I drank half a bottle. As my hungover body slowly awakened, it was like this still, small voice in my head said,
“Look at what you’re doing to your poor body.”
The ROI on alcohol was not that great. I knew deep in my heart I needed to learn to self regulate in far healthier ways than running for the bottle, the pills, or even the running shoes when life spiraled out of control. I decided to quit drinking for the rest of the year. I don’t know why, but it just felt right. And then, I decided to quit a lot of other things. I wasn’t sure if it was God or my instinctive reaction, but it felt like a Holy nudge. I deleted all my social media apps, quit running for 33 days, quit practicing Tango in 3” heels every week, surrendered all my CBD teas and edibles, and made the executive decision to abstain from alcohol for the rest of the year. It didn’t feel as terrible as my mind thought it would be. I think our own limiting beliefs can set us up for failure before we even try. Instead of consciously deciding to “replace” one former habit or coping mechanism for another, I took a different avenue. I didn’t want to merely swap habits - even if it was for a healthier one - because the new habit would only feed into my obsessive/compulsive thought patterns; the very rigidity I sought to break. Instead, I allowed myself to explore things I’d always wanted to do but never had time for, and find one simple activity to replace the quick fix of social media when I was bored or wanted to numb out. I also chose to find things that did not require as much of my physical body. The only “rule” was that anything I began to pursue had to be done with intention, rather than rigidity and obsession.
It’s been quite a ride, but sometimes things falling a part is actually what puts life back into place. Below is but a glimmer of that, featuring non-alcoholic “beer” and baristas who sharpie extra love onto your iced americano. There’s much I’m still working on resolving in my personal life and headspace, but I’m thankful for people and beauty and the small joys of everyday life. My cup runneth over.
