Tuesday 24 June 2014

Reading old stories, living a new one.

Last Sunday afternoon, when I was walking through one of those lovely summer festivals, with lots of people milling about eating street food and listening to music and picking up little bits of crafty goodness, I wanted so much to join the people on the outdoor patios and have a drink. I had no intention of doing that, but I hadn't felt that strong pull to drink in a while, and it was a powerful reminder of how small things can bring it on again, and how strong that pull can be once it sets in. For a little while, I felt pretty darn sorry for myself that I couldn't just join in on that part of the summer fun.

But a couple of days later, I found the old drinking journal I had been looking for. (The upside of having to crate everything in the apartment in preparation for the exterminators was finding a few misplaced items. A wee but welcome little bright side for sure.) So on Tuesday afternoon, I sat in the midst of piles of crates and boxes and read my own alternately sad and hopeful words, written over the span of a year or so, about trying to deal with what I was starting to realize was a big problem, my drinking. I have to do that sometimes, because it's impossible for me to remember how unhappy I was about how bad the drinking had got, and how hard I was trying to fix it.

Some of the things I did to control the amount I was drinking are a little bit funny, even though they're deeply sad. I remember thinking that it was completely daft to have any more than two drinks and, fully convinced that it would help me, I wrote myself a note that said, "Don't be daft!" and put it on the fridge. The note had absolutely zero effect on how much I drank, of course, but I think it did help me see that, once I started drinking, I saw no problem in being daft after all. I also had various notes and charts to help me count how many drinks I would have but I only ever kept them going for a week or so, because it's really quite dreary to write, day after day, "Planned drinks: 2; Actual drinks: somewhere around seven but I lost count."

More heartbreaking to me was the lists of problems I knew drinking was causing me--my hands hurt, my head hurt, my thinking was blurry too much of the day, I was achey and bloatey, my eyes were looking pink, and I was falling into some nasty dark spells. It was tough, reading my own words, telling myself how I was going to solve this problem because it didn't make sense to feel this awful. As soon as I felt better, I always started to think it was OK now, and then I would write that I had had one glass (or two) at some event or with dinner and that it had been really lovely and now I was planning to be super careful because I didn't want to run into the old problem again. And then the journal peters out until a few months later, when I was in the middle of the problem again, and was once again drinking way too much and trying to get a grip on it.

At one point, I had written, "What's so great about wine, anyway?" Reading it now, the question startles me. It's the right question to ask, and I think it was asking it that helped me start making the decision to really quit drinking. When I asked the question, I didn't quit right away, but I couldn't come up with a good answer. I still can't. There isn't anything all that great about wine. I had cultivated a taste for it, and though I currently don't even like the smell, I know it's a powerful drug and I could develop a taste for it again if I wanted to, but I can't really argue that taste is the reason for drinking. (As far as taste goes, I actually prefer the homemade sparkling water, lemon and bitters concoctions I rely on these days. And they go equally well with food.) I don't actually like the fuzzy feeling of being drunk. Once I started trying to have spells of not drinking for a week or month at a time, I  realized I enjoyed being social more when I wasn't worrying about whether I could have another drink yet or whether anyone knew I was getting drunk. I found I am often at ease with people, which is something I never knew because I thought I needed a drink to relax and be sociable.

I think there isn't a logical answer to my question, "What's so great about wine?" because the wine story isn't based on logic. There's an enormous cultural narrative around drinking and relaxing and the adult way to have fun, and culture works on the level of story, not on logic. It's all about symbol and image and feeling, not about what makes sense. So there is a strong pull to sit on a patio on a sunny Sunday and drink with laughing friends, except I can do that without putting wine in my glass. A pretty drink in a pretty glass is a symbol of relaxation, and it can be just as strong a symbol if there's no booze in the glass. I've been working on this: taking a look at what the cultural myths are around drinking, and seeing if I can re-imagine those same stories and symbols without the alcohol. And I think I'm getting somewhere. So I can sit on a sunny patio and drink, except I'm drinking sparkling water. I can enjoy a fancy dinner in a French restaurant with San Pellegrino or Badoit instead of wine, and experience the meal as a real pleasure. I don't think it's helpful for me to pretend that this strong cultural ideal isn't there, and it doesn't get rid of it just to say, "It's a myth." We live in culture, so we live our lives through myths all the time. But culture changes, and I think this is how we change it: by seeing what the story is--the relaxing evening, or the summer festival, or the summer picnic--and reworking it to include me, or you, a person who wants to live a good life in the world we're in and who is doing that without drinking alcohol but 100% engaging in the big ongoing world. There isn't anything great about wine. It's just a powerful symbol of a whole lot of good things, and we need to rework our symbols so we can participate in life and not miss the wine one bit.

I'm not quite there yet. Sometimes, like on that sunny Sunday, I did miss wine for a while. But later that evening when I sat with my glass of sparkling water with fresh mint, lime and bitters, it was delicious, and it looked pretty in the glass, and my partner and I raised a toast to the good life we were actually living. And we didn't need wine to do that after all.

It's almost dinnertime, and I'm about to make bouillabaisse: tomato and fennel and chunks of fresh salmon and halibut and yes, a little cooking wine, because I haven't figured out how to cook without wine in some recipes. (Wine actually makes a decent cooking ingredient, so that's one good thing, maybe.) We'll have a relaxing, romantic dinner, with some more of those fresh strawberries that are still in season for dessert along with the cardamom cream we're getting good at making, and maybe then go for a walk in the late evening light. All lovely stuff, and no need to put booze in a glass to make it special. I'm looking forward to it.

Peace and joy to you, and lovely wine-free summer evenings, too (or winter nights if you're in the other hemisphere!) xo

10 comments:

  1. Hi Thirsty, I was going to comment about myth and wine and culture, and seeing other people drinking on sunny patios (I was just in Hobart and they were drinking around bon-fires there)... but I'm going to comment instead that your bouillabaisse sounds amazing and made me salivate. THANK you!! I still haven't made cardamom cream, but it's on the list. Good food most definitely tastes better without the interference of wine in our glasses. XXX

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    1. Hi Sue. It was yummy bouillabaisse! I'll have to make you some one day. (And do let me know how that cream works out.) It was so lovely to see you on the TV show with Mrs D! It made me really happy to know you had met through the sober blog world, and there you were enjoying each other's company like two wonderful people I'd love to chat with in my kitchen. Kudos to you for being brave enough to go on TV and talk about this! And as always, thanks for visiting! xo

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  2. It makes me angry that so much of that drinking myth is contrived by adervertisers looking to sell booze. But it is what it is, and alcohol has been used longer than that for celebrations by humans, so I am sure there is more to the myth than just marketing efforts. I think we will always have those moments of yearning, unfortunately. But even normal drinkers and teetotals experience nostalgia over other things, I suppose. Your drinking diary sounds like many that I have had over the years, too. It was all drinking and messy relationships with men. Ack! I like the looks of my journal so much more these days! xo

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    1. Hi Jen. Yes, the drink ads make me angry too, but I also agree that the cultural image goes way deeper than drinking. I like reading mysteries, and in the older ones, every time someone sits down they have a drink. It's the culture cue that means relax. But we can change it. And yes, everyone feels nostalgic over something. I kind of hate nostalgia--always seems like a waste of time--so you identifying it as that might help me toot it out more quickly next time round. Thanks for reading and chatting. xo

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  3. That glass of wine on a terrace or patio or beautiful beer garden in the sun is my weak point too - it's always how I imagine wine to be, even though it was rarely the reality for me - but when I see it now, it always pulls at me. I don't know what it is about the image that is so strong - is it all the advertising, our culture or upbringing? - but being aware of it and being aware of it's superficiality must be a start.
    I also had a "drinking diary" for a time, which I kept as a moderation attempt, logging the number of units each day and each week. I ditched it during a clear out, along with a sternly written letter to myself, but kind of wish I still had it. Having those words that we wrote "before" can be such a help in seeing the distance between the then and the now.
    Love the post, and the description of your food and walk - sounds lovely. I'd like to say I wish I could have been there, but that may have killed the romance of the moment ;) xx

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    1. Hi MTM. Isn't that patio image a killer? But after Jen's comments on nostalgia, I might really be able to see my reaction as just that. And culture, upbringing, ads, the booze stuff is everywhere, but I agree that being aware is a big defence against it. The drinking diary is good for me to read once in a while. I really forget how awful I felt.

      As for joining me for dinner, well that would be grand some other evening. I would happily share my bouillabaisse and strawberries with you and swap stories about hikes and beach walks.

      Thanks for visiting! xo

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  4. Hey.. just checking in.. I've been absent because of a lot of noise in this country.. but you lovely blogger friends of mine out in the big wide world are wonderful and important. I am still totally in love with your brain and ever grateful that you share your innermost workings with us here. xxxx

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    1. Hi Mrs D. Thanks for dropping by to say hi. All is well here. I keep on being so glad I quit drinking, and I keep finding out how much better my life is without the drink. Such a surprise! I see you're thriving in the din of your book launch! I'm grateful for your support, and for you just being you. Big hug to you! xo

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  5. Any chance you would share that recipe with me? It sounds divine. I too am a fan of cooking with wine. It makes things taste just delicious, and it makes me feel like I am taking advantage of living in German wine country. I don't feel left out at all :) As far as the myth, the culture, etc., I do think things are changing, but we have to change ourselves first. Or at least I think that's what Ghandi meant ;) Hugs to you!

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    1. Hi Rebecca. Thanks for visiting! Yes, I will write out the recipe next post, no problem. I mostly agree about the myth. We change ourselves first, but at least for me it was easier to do that once I started to see how I was surrounded by, and bought into, a set of ideas about alcohol. Maybe both change at the same time is the answer. I hope you're having another fun weekend! xo

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