Monday 28 September 2015

Round 3, day 12: isolation and connection

Today is the twelfth day of this recent stretch of not drinking. I am recovering from a flu I've had since my family visit in August (yes, a 4-week bug! Or maybe a psychosomatic illness brought on by visiting my family? Who can say?) I'm still a little logy after a less active than usual summer, still a bit low from the summer of drinking, and I am a bit worried about a couple of projects I'm working on, one in particular on which I am just plain behind and will have to admit that in a meeting this week. So life is not just a walk in the park these days.

Maybe that all sounds dreary. But despite it, I'm doing well. I feel so much more calm and able to face the world after not even two weeks away from drinking. I don't know yet how I'm going to face it. But I can accept that I will, and that's a huge step in the right direction. (A few weeks ago I was fantasizing temporary catastrophes that would pluck me from the world for a few months without harming anyone. But there is no such thing. All catastrophes harm someone. And imagining that as the only way forward was certainly harming me!)

This past weekend I attended a conference, one that's usually incredibly social--a small group of people spend all day together in meetings and conversation, and all evening at dinner and then sitting up late drinking together. Last year I attended and didn't drink, and it was great, but this year I am new (again) to not drinking, and I wasn't sure whether it would be hard. In fact, it was the opposite. Despite feeling somewhat ill, I very much enjoyed my time. I had some great conversations, and I felt very much like a part of the small group. But I realized something about how the drinking works at these events. Even more than last year, I saw that the drinking was meant for a kind of bonding, and it does that, but it also had the opposite effect. Both this year and last, some people didn't drink much, and for them, the drinking seemed grand. For others, as they drank more, they got more stuck into certain grooves of talk that seemed to disconnect people, so that the conversation went on and but it wasn't all that interesting. Now I went to bed early, so maybe it did all turn super interesting later on, or maybe the bonding of staying up late talking was worth more than anything in particular that was being said. I don't know, and I wasn't well enough to test that out. But it surprised me that one part of drinking, which is a kind of group bonding, seemed only partial, isolating as much as it bonded.

Maybe that sounds judgemental. I hope not, but it might. I don't mean it that way, though. I just think I mean this: I might be finally, absolutely finished with the drinking. Last time around, I could still see residual things about drinking that I was giving up. This time, it's less that I am giving up something than that I am making a different decision, one that chooses a certain way of spending time (being present and engaged) over another (bonding over drink.) I felt like I could separate the day and evening events, and I didn't need to participate in the whole circus to be a part of the conversation. In fact, by having one evening away with a friend, and going to bed early the next, I was better able to engage with what was happening at the meetings during the day.

Last time I wrote, I was talking about emotions, and I still don't know much what to make of all that. I have been thinking about the period during the past summer before I decided to drink again. I felt isolated, and I felt like the sober world was a big game of trying to isolate from the rest of life. And I thought that drinking again might be a way to participate more fully in the world as it is. Now that I write that, I see that I had the exact same thought when I decided to drink again after my four months being sober in 2013. That's why what I think I observed this weekend feels powerful to me. I think I can finally see my way through the lie that booze helps people bond, that it's a way around a kind of alienation and isolation. I know, I know, I know, sooner or later drinkers isolate, staying home altogether instead of going out to mix with the world, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean is that even when drinking with a lovely group of people, even when it's a group of people who are committed to really communicating, drinking can get in the way of people actually being able to listen and talk to each other.

And I know I am given to isolation and alienation. I don't always struggle with this, and I don't always know why it's happening when it's happening. But I know that at times, the world of people seems far away and hard to connect with, and I hate it all. And when I feel that disconnect, I want to run screaming away from whatever world I'm locked out of. I guess I have used drinking like a stick of dynamite to blast myself back into a world, and that works a little bit, for a while, but sooner or later I am isolated again. If that happens and I am already drinking, I don't have another way to blast back, and I feel too low to do it on my own steam. Which leaves me more or less nowhere, and alone.

I'm not sure any of this will make sense to anyone. I'm writing it because I think the most important thing I have to do is to get hold of the reasons I gave up on being sober, twice, when both times it was working so well for me. I think I mistook one of the problems of living, which is feeling left out of the world, for a problem of being sober. I see that now. And I see that my own feeling a bit apart from the world goes much deeper, and that's what I have to find a way to address, this sense of not really belonging in the world.

Almost two weeks in here and lots of thinking on the go. I think I'm getting somewhere with it. As always, thanks for reading, and for your comments! Wishing you peace and joy, and belonging.



21 comments:

  1. ok if I share this very excellent post with others in the Members Feed at Living Sober? Your insights are so fantastic.. and I am happy that you are feeling somewhat calm within your busy-ness xxx

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    1. Hi Mrs D. Yes, please do. I'm very happy to have LS folk as readers. Thanks to you for your ongoing warmth and support! xoxo

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  2. Hi Thirsty!
    I go back and forth with feeling connected with people and then not.
    I need people, but I also need some alone time.
    I understand how you feel with the bonding over drinking.
    I am having fun bonding over yoga and coffee and walks!
    It's different, but I think the thing is to find a tribe of some sort.
    At least that is what I am trying to find!
    Hugs!
    xo
    Wendy

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    1. Hi Wendy. Yes, it's a balance, the alone time and the other time. Finding a tribe might be just the way to put it. Or several tribes! My academic world is my tribe in many ways, and I'm figuring out how that works with the tricky alcohol traditions. Maybe I need other in-person tribes, too. I'll think about that. Hugs to you, too! xo

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  3. Wow! This is amazingly insightful and incredibly helpful to me. You have just helped my progress enormously. I think the answer is patience. If I wasn't on my stupid phone in a cafe I would say more. But you've just made it "click" for me, and I'm on the right course just by being patient. Of course our lives will change dramatically becoming sober, and it will take a long time and many situations before we are fully strong and confident and comfortable and happy being this real version of ourselves. Before we KNOW. It is starting to happen for me. It is grand. Go well and thank you again xo Prudence

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    1. Prudence, thanks for your lovely comment. I love this about blogging--I say something that makes something clear to me and to someone else, and then a comment helps me right back. I didn't realize I was talking about patience--I famously have just about none! But you're right, accepting what's right for me and moving along with that and then being patient, that's the thing. Not sure how to do that, but I will pay attention to what you say about this in the next while, as I think you're onto something good here. Thanks for reading and commenting. Glad you're well. xo

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    2. Love that analysis so much, and your comment Prudence! Very wise, I know exactly what you mean. I still need to find that balance even when not drinking, but it is way easier to assess and do, then minimal recovery time from too much people and talk. Wonderful blog post XX

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    3. Thanks, Kate. It's so lovely when someone reads and understands! xo

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  4. Hello! I'm sorry I've closed my blog - I saw that you'd tried to read it - but I'm still here, and am reaching out to you so say HELLO, and 12 days is brilliant, and that I really hear what you're saying here about isolation. I'm only on Day 5 (again) but I'm right behind you, and supporting you. Love Annie x

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    1. Annie! How nice to hear from you. Glad t hear you're keeping on with it. I know what you mean about blogging--this summer when I was going back and forth regarding whether to quit again or not, I wasn't able to blog as I was too overwhelmed by what other people had to say and I couldn't even hear myself in that. Anyway, hello to you and thanks for the support! Sending support right back to you, too! xo

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  5. This really is such a brilliant view of all that is sobriety. I found that it helped (after a while of course) to think of what I was gaining vs. what I thought I was losing (that bonding thing). Of course later I saw (as you did) that the bonding thing was just drunk talk thinly veiled as bonding. It also helped to realize that I am an introvert. As soon as I allowed myself that privilege I was able to care for myself which led to a lot less running screaming from the world times. What a relief that was!

    As usual your ability to analyze what is going on inside is tremendous. Thank you for sharing it with us.

    Sherry

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    1. Hi Sherry. Thanks for this. Strange, isn't it, how the exact same activity (drinking) becomes something different when it's interpreted differently. I'm no introvert--I'm that curious in-between person who sometimes needs people and sometimes needs to be alone--but I'm sure with you on trying to find out what works for yourself. Thanks for your kind words. I really appreciate them. xo

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  6. what you say about 'mistaking a life problem for a sobriety problem' - to me that sounds like an important revelation and one that could be useful to many people in a very wide variety of circumstances, so thank you for sharing that.

    have you ever read 'The King Must Die' by Mary Renault? it is a version of the life of the Greek mythological hero Theseus, and part of the novel describes the annual tribute of seven boys and seven girls paid by the city of Athens to their Cretan overlords. the tribute youths go to be trained as bull dancers, and an almost certain death in the bull ring.

    that's how I feel about the bargain our society has made with alcohol. as you describe above, for those who don't drink a great deal, there is a value to the social lubrication it initially provides. and for that (and for the economic value of profits and jobs, too) our society thinks that the sacrifice of a certain number of individuals every year is acceptable.

    the problem is that none of us want to accept that we have woken up one morning and found ourselves on the ship sailing out of Athens harbour. we want to be the ones still in our homes, not the ones paying the price.

    (by the way Theseus and his men and maidens escaped the bull ring, when an earthquake struck and the palace crumbled. they made it back to Athens, but found they were never quite the same as their stay-at-home brethren....)

    always good to read you - the blogspot blogs take a couple of days to come up on my feed so apologies for often being late in commenting! Prim xx

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    1. Prim, that book sounds amazing and I love how you draw that analogy. Wow. Literary chops, you have ;)

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    2. Prim, thanks for the great analogy! It's fantastic, and made my hair stand on end. I don't know the novel (I will look it up). But what you're saying feels true. My first reaction was rage at the idea. And that reminded me of Marianne Faithfull singing Kurt Weil's "Pirate Jenny" and her rage, except she's planning to blow up the town, not the ship. So the story doesn't map on, but the anger does. (So here it is in case anyone wants to channel that anger! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7-XNVa5Gic Turns out on Youtube Ute Lemper's version comes next and that's pretty wonderful as well!)

      But I'm getting sidetracked. It's interesting to think of this as a societal tradeoff. It's a rough one, that's for sure. I think this summer I really, really wanted to just have normal life again and not have to deal with everything. That's sounds like self-pity. Maybe it is. But I am critical of so much about our society, so wanting to take up the alcohol experience uncritically, when I have ample evidence that it doesn't work for me, is a strange thing, and I'm still thinking about how complicit I have been in accepting some of the alcohol story even when I did give it up. Thanks for the great food for thought. xoxo

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  7. Wow, it sounds like you had a huge revelation ... yay you! And it's good I think to see patterns in our behavior -- it is a huge catalyst for change. As far as the "done drinking for good" thing, I think that for some of us, saying that -- making that choice -- can be a huge relief.

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    1. Rebecca, yes, it does feel like a huge revelation. I thought I had given up booze for good once already, but this seems deeper and more me than before. Much relief there, though I need to think it through so I don't lose it when I am (maybe temporarily) not feeling it anymore. Thanks for reading! xoxo

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  8. I think this makes a lot of sense.
    My experience is that drinkers are so caught up in themselves that they aren't listening to anyone else. It is a self centred behaviour.

    I always felt disconnected from others. I thought I drank because of that. It turns out that drinking was actually part of the problem.

    When I start feeling disconnected no I am usually able to ask myself if that is a real thought. Most of the time it's not, it's the result of being tired or, most often for me, hungry.

    This is a special past. Than you for sharing your experience.

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    1. Hi Anne. Thanks for reading and commenting! As usual, what you say makes me think. I'm not sure about the not paying attention to others part of things. I think I may have done the opposite--I think I somehow lost my ability to listen to myself in the noise of the world. So the disconnect is from others and also from me. Now that may not make sense, but I'm going to think about it!

      Here's a question for you, though: how do you know what's a "real thought" and what's not? I might sound sarcastic here, but I am deadly serious. It often seems to me that any of a number of things might be real, and figuring that out is something that I have always struggled with. It's probably the main reason I write. I don't know if you will be this. but if you do, I'd love to hear what you have to say about it.

      Thanks for being here. xo

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  9. hmmm yes. I had given too much, but more in my head than in reality.
    My drinking began when my kids were small and I felt I should give them everything. That I no longer needed anything.
    Slowly I began to feel resentful. Unappreciated. Unloved. I was critical of myself and because I was concerned about approval from others I did more and more.

    It turns out my husband was doing his share, but I just could not see it. But the last few years my head was filled with self criticism, fear and overwhelming guilt. Not that I had done anything specific. Just oversll distress.

    As for what is real...have you ever read Byron Katie? She has a few questions to ask when you are uncertain. Mainly -it this thought true? And am I arguing with reality? If so, that is the basis of sufferening. The inability to accept what is.

    The serenity prayer says it all. I just had to let go of control. Once I did, I could see I was gripping onto things so tightly I was smothering.

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    1. Thanks for answering, Anne. I took a look at Byron Katie's work. It looks interesting, but it seems with that I would end up even more unsure than I am! It's not that I am stuck in one perspective. Rather, I can easily take up a number of perspectives and on any given day some are convincing and others are not. I'll think more about it, anyway. But it is this trying to get a grip on the world that I find challenging, not so much to control it as to figure out how to proceed. I really appreciate your comment! xo

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