If continuing to consume alcohol when I try so hard to preserve my health is the elephant in my health room, then throwing a party and deciding *not* to drink must be my first party without that elephant hanging around.

The elephant must be perceived as some sort of comfort animal then – because the prospect of having a party at my home and not indulging in drink felt 100% foreign and anxiety-producing. Heck, even *attending* a party and not drinking sounds intimidating enough, but the thought of having a party at my own home with a lot of people (that I’m not used to because we aren’t really ‘throw a party’-type-people, and the last time we had one was pre-pandemic).

When I’d first made the pact with myself to take several months off, it had stipulations. First and foremost was that there were a few of “exceptions” – this planned party being one of them, and then any public singing because I didn’t want to stop doing what was important to me and I’d *finally* brought into my life. (Ironically, in just the month or two prior I’d finally performed two original songs at open mic night, at a winery, and gone to karaoke, at a bar. Both experiences lit me up in energetic ways that were completely unfamiliar but felt ‘good’ despite being terrifying. Truly exhilifying… Yet, we occasionally go to wineries, and never go to bars … so it is peculiar timing indeed of “Let’s stop drinking and start going to bars!”, regardless of the “liquid courage” that it provides and was desperately desired to quell the terror… But, I digress, that is another subject.)

If I didn’t agree to these exceptions, specifically of still getting to drink for the party, I could tell I couldn’t have accepted the proposition. Too much resistance would have shut it down and put it off. There is always a better and more convenient and conducive time to give up alcohol, right? Or so we keep telling ourselves. Always “later”.

So, I gave myself “permission” to still drink at this party. And that was a good thing. It allowed me enough space to still move forward on a larger goal instead of ‘throwing the baby out with the bathwater’, as that odd expression goes. Would it be *better* for my health to procrastinate on giving up alcohol for 3 months just because there are ~3 or 4 days that I really couldn’t wrap my head around at the time? Unlikely.

And, as a recovering perfectionist, it is important to focus on the fact that even if I had decided to drink, it would not have been failure. If that was where I was at on my journey, then it was still success. Any step in the right direction. You don’t always actually have to “better your best”.

But, as it turns out, giving myself permission to drink took away that fear – and thus allowed me to not focus and transfix on it. And, to my surprise, over my journey of 35 days of sobriety before the party … I got curious. (I’d done a 3-month cleanse sometime before but always with the Knowing that I’d be going right back to drinking right after).

Curious enough to broach the topic in my imagination of “What if I *didn’t* drink? Is that even possible? Could I have any fun? Would I have too much anxiety? What would people think?”

Honestly, at first it felt very …uncomfortable… to even think about it. Surprisingly uncomfortable to even try to picture it. Because if I thought it was possible then I’d feel I’d have to do it. But the more I tried to engage in it, the more curious I became. When I did my meditations, I put myself in that make-belief place – of what would that experience be… Not of someone who simply wasn’t drinking (and missing it) – but of being someone who didn’t want to and didn’t need to. Someone who “acquired” what alcohol had been “providing” through other means that actually felt more restorative and sustainable. (And, who coincidentally woke up early the next morning and by 7 a.m. was rather motivated to do ALL the party cleanup like the vacuuming and swiffering and cleaning the bathroom and putting oodles of things away … and all done with a refreshed home and no looming ‘work to do’ by 10 or 11 am… rest of the day to relax and enjoy instead of being huddled in misery on the sofa probably binge-watching tv, waiting for the awful, achy, internal ‘poisoned’ effect to go away … )

As with any good challenge that you’re motivated to explore, I find motivation is fueled by what you are moving ‘towards’, rather than what you don’t want. If i just went in trying to “survive without drinking”, I’m not sure that would have been interesting. But I posed two curiosities to myself:

1. I fear that alcohol includes me. Can I socially connect with others over mocktails? This was a larger party, with new people over my typical group, and I knew some people were coming that actually did not drink. I always admired them, but couldn’t figure out how they did it. If I was clinging to how alcohol connects me to people who drink, I was curious if not drinking could ALSO lead to social connection, just, differently.
2. When I tried to explore why alcohol allowed me to have “fun” I realized it had a lot more to do with the fact that it lets my guard down. By poisoning-off the Inner Critic, I stop censoring myself. And find that I am naturally warm and inviting and really do want to connect with others on meaningful levels. Alcohol “lets” me do that by getting MY OWN inhibitions and fears of rejection out of the way. And, of course, *that* is just working on general social anxiety, which I’ve already made huge strides on through meditations, so, the challenge is to take that farther. What makes a party seem fun for me IS that relaxed connection, so that is what I focused on trying to create.

Thus, two personal Challenges were born:

1. Can I socially connect with people over experiences other than alcohol?
2. Can I allow myself to be authentic, genuine, and vulnerable with people?

Mocktails

Although my sharing of my mocktails was limited compared to my vision, I’d declare it success. It was limited more because of time, and hosting a party is very busy. But I DID have meaningful and pleasant shares with people over a few mocktail creations. And shared awareness of using pure ginger juice, bitters, and flavored vinegars with others that were interested in building out their non-alcoholic drink repertoire.

Authenticity

Yes, I proved to myself that I could. It was imperfect, of course. Especially at the beginning, I still felt awkward and out of place. But in truth, I’d normally feel that way anyway, because normally I would have only ‘started’ drinking by then, so my Inner Critic wasn’t yet obliterated.

I think I achieved allowing myself moments of being authentically vulnerable. I shared myself. In trust that it would be appreciated. I was open with what things I’m interested in, and what things I’m doing. I had a great time talking to many people, and the party went so fast.

It was probably about two weeks before the party that I’d finally wrapped my head around the real possibility that I could do this. And, more importantly, that some part of me *wanted* to do this, as a personal challenge and an opportunity to learn and observe something new about myself. To build-out my comfort zone. A part of me was intrigued if I could “observe” it, instead of react to it. But instead to BE in it, with all of it, as it is. Acceptance.

But despite this curiosity, I was very surprised and curious though as to how much resistance I still could feel simmering inside. That, somehow, doing this one party would be like agreeing to be a non-drinker *forever*. Which, of course, is an absurd projection. I also felt like I was making some HUGE sacrifice, like I truly was going to ‘lose’ something. Yes, the party was a big deal for people like us and far outside of our norm, so “enjoying” it was paramount, after all, it was a lot of work and an investment. But, I reasoned that it really is only one day, and it’s not like I couldn’t drink at whenever the future next one would be. That comforted me, and I found that curious also. After all, if alcohol is really “no big thing” in our lives, why would we have all this emotion and desperate clinging surrounding it? After all, if I said I was going to go through a party without broccoli or potato chips or a thousand other things, it would be a non-event in my brain. Thus, that is all part of the inner, mental suffering caused from the spectrum of addiction…whether the addiction is moderated under ‘successful control’ or not.

I kept floating it as a possibility in my mind, as preposterous as it seemed, but *possible*. And just “floating” it because I knew if I came down too hard that the resistance would also come down harder (equal and opposite forces, after all). Until about a week before, of still trying to *feel* what it could be like to be in this future, when I was finally more curious than I was fearful, and I went into the party almost as “Game On”, let’s see what full-spectrum acceptance is like! It is safe to do this!

I’ve been taking so many small steps to build-out my comfort zone over the past 5 years. And they’ve all resulted in a more comfortable life to live in, and more importantly, finally provided my life with something that feels more like *living*, something closer to what I’d been desperately searching for in all my external activities.

I certainly did feel better by the time the night was over than I otherwise would have. Sure, I was certainly exhausted…we’d worked really hard on cleaning and prep for days! But, it was a ‘better’ kind of tired than that sloppy, collapse-y tired of oblivion. And, as I said, I felt motivated and pretty good the whole next day.

AND it didn’t cost me social connection. I still had a good party. I enjoyed talking with people, and all evidence suggests that people enjoyed talking with me.

BUT, surprisingly, alcohol wasn’t guilty of ALL the things I’d blamed on it. I figured alcohol is why all parties felt like a blur. Well, this one still did. The entire thing had been built up for so long, and then over so fast. It felt like a surreal whirlwind. I figured that was due entirely to the alcohol but apparently not… And, before I attack myself for becoming senile, I think it makes sense.  I don’t socialize on that scale, it was out of my norm, so it simply was a lot for my brain to process. I get a lot of solitary time, and am typically with two or three people max. So I think being around that much activity was just so far outside what my nervous system is used to that it couldn’t properly take it all in and process it. I thought I’d remember every conversation of the whole night clearly if I didn’t drink – but nope, there were just too many conversations over a short time period – and I can’t remember all the details I’d like to about what some people said. Bummer.

Oddly it wasn’t really that hard not to drink. Because I had gotten my mindset into “Game On” and was running a social experiment with myself to work on my own limiting Rules, I didn’t even have any thoughts on wanting to drink. Which I guess I’m now just realizing means.. I actually didn’t want to drink. Which of course, as a drinker, sounds even weirder. It’s just that the ‘want’ comes from an entirely different perspective. More holistic in a way, like a net-total from an expansive awareness of all the costs and benefits. That there can be something I’m moving *towards* by not drinking, instead of *solely* moving *away* from something I’ve decided is “bad”. So I didn’t “want” to drink because my focus was elsewhere, and that there are new experiences to experience when we *don’t* drink too.  I was sipping on Zevias and mocktails the entire time and they were all tasty and enjoyable. Ironically I found just as much connection with those that did *not* drink than I had had with the people who *did* drink.  Who knew!? And of those that were drinking, no one cared or appeared to even notice that I didn’t. I wasn’t even tempted, because that would have meant I was questioning it, which I wasn’t.

Whether you have 1 day or 100 days behind you from ‘abstaining from an addiction’ it really, actually doesn’t matter on any given present day.  AS LONG AS you are pure on your resolve.  It’s the torment from the questioning… will I or wont I or can I or should I or could I, that makes it feel different. Longer *feels* like more of an accomplishment. Something “safer” to let your guard down. Although there is some truth in that, in any given present moment, the past doesn’t matter. Freedom can be found at any moment with enough resolve to choose differently than your past.