Hiromi_X
So an alcoholic walks into a bar...
This week, I went into a bar for the first time since my sobriety date (July 4, 2006). Well, I've been in restaurants with bars attached to them, but there I was at the bar. The many sparkling bottles of liquor surprisingly held no temptation -- they were just a still life to me. Decoration. The fact that my clear liquors of choice during my binges right before I got sober -- Absolut Mandrin, Bombay Sapphire -- were way over on the other side of the bar might have had something to do with the lack of craving, however.
Instead of the bottles, I looked longingly at the beers on tap. The choices weren't all that inspired, but the memory of the last time I was in a microbrewery sprang into mind. During several afternoons at that place, my oldest sister and I tried beer after beer talking lazily about this and that and munching on appetizers. That memory hit with aching nostalgia. I kept looking at the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale spigot. I would have ordered that. I thought of the Lindemans Pomme (apple) lambic I saw at Central Market, a lambic that I've never tried, and never will. I thought of the two new Spec's (huge liquor store based in Houston) locations in Austin, and how I'd never walk in to search for perry and special seasonal Belgian beers. I was fucking sad.
Some drink non-alcohol beers. Those things by and large taste like crap, but I understand how they can fill in a sensory gap for someone who feels the taste of beer is a vital component of a particular scene. But I never had one during sobriety, so I tried some sips of one. Maybe I could drink some now; maybe it would take the sting out of the craving. First sip: Bleah. This ain't real beer. Wait...let's give this a chance. Second sip: Still doesn't taste good, but I feel compelled to try again. Third sip: Holy shit, I better stop. I've discovered that near beer is trigger-y for me -- the taste of it made me want to say Fuck it, gimme some reeeeeeeeeeal beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer.
Before anyone asks, I'm all right. I wasn't rattled or freaked out, and if things got in any way hard to handle, I would have left. Just sometimes, I get a little wistful. How I envy normal people.
Comments
There are normal people? Where? Where? Tell me woman!
1. Posted by Omnipotent Poobah on September 7, 2007
My brother (dry 25 years) is a fake beer drinker.
2. Posted by clarissa on September 8, 2007
I wonder if it would have been easier or harder if the Saints had been winning.
3. Posted by Ray on September 8, 2007
I used to have a bit of a problem with drinking, or at least, with stopping after I'd started drinking. It wasn't as tough as full-blown alcoholism, of course. But, now I don't really drink very often, and when I'm at parties or in bars, I tend to notice how stupid drunk people act. I mean, I guess it's 'normal' to get drunk on weekends, especially around here, but there's also a real pathos to it as well. I think that, as you get used to not drinking, the envy will really wear off.
4. Posted by rufus on September 8, 2007
Omni, I get what you're saying, but regardless of what adjective I use, there are people who drink alcohol at the risk of their lives, sanity, and health (me). Then there are people who can enjoy the sensory experience of a good Belgian ale or a fine wine or whatever, or join in an easy camaraderie without everyone looking at him/her and thinking, Oh shit, what'll he/she do this time? These are good things, and I envy people who can take part in them.
Clarissa, I guess I'm gonna be the Perrier type of alkie.
Ray, heh, you know how it is, though.
1) Winning: Woo-hoo! ::crack open beer::
2) Losing: Fuck. ::crack open beer::
The only solution seems to be to replace ::crack open beer:: with ::scrape spoon on bottom of ice cream cup::
Rufus, but alcohol is also a positive thing. Many adults enjoy it without making asses of themselves.
5. Posted by Hiromi on September 8, 2007
I can understand the craving. You mentioned the lambic and I started drooling.
But if I had to think about good times, where I felt good and knew without a doubt I'd never be able to even attempt to approximate that particular feeling ever again.... That is sad, Hiromi, you pinned it.
6. Posted by Darkneuro on September 8, 2007
Darkneuro, that's exactly it. Yeah yeah yeah, I can find other kinds of good times, but some are absolutely no longer a possibility.
7. Posted by Hiromi on September 8, 2007
I'm curious, if in retrospect you look back at those moments without any idealization or nostalgia, did those moments only feel really good? Or were there parts that felt good, and parts that didn't feel so good about it? Because if I think of my own stuff, in the nostalgic version, it only felt good. But if I really think about what it was really like, it in truth felt good laced with a lot of bad shit. I never felt soley just good; I just kind of told myself I did, like cramming it down and not allowing the other feelings to surface enough to admit to them.
8. Posted by Miss Syl on September 8, 2007
My adult life had massive amounts of suck in it in the aftermath of the rape and during the marriage. But there were genuine bright spots. Hanging out with my sister and trying all those beers and whiling away the afternoon was fun, and had its own nostalgia in the good old days -- my sisters and I are very close, but as adults, we don't often get to hang out "just us."
The ex went with me and my sister (the same one) to London, but even he couldn't mess that trip up. We popped into pubs during our walks through London, trying hand drawn ales and local ciders. There was a place that had a massive selection of Belgian beers, including hot cherry beers! And when we went to Paris, we had wine with just about every meal, and then a bottle to wind down with at our apartment there.
All those things are pretty much unambiguously happy memories. They were happy moments untouched by the overall suck of my life.
And like I said to DN, yeah yeah yeah there are other happy times to be had, but things ranging from the large-scale, like a beer tour of Belgium, or a small scale, like sharing beers with friends, are out of the question. I still want those things.
9. Posted by Hiromi on September 8, 2007
No, I didn't mean the whole memory, I meant only the memory of the actual action of drinking, even during those times. I found that some of the harmful behaviors I was doing back in the day, there was a certain level of buried self-consciousness about them, hidden underneath. Both a strong surface happiness and almost a relief to have the thing, and a sort of deep-seated regret for my need for the thing that sat very close to that, but that I'd ignore.
10. Posted by Miss Syl on September 9, 2007
I'd just wondered if there was any level of discomfort like that for you in those memories, or if that conflict never really affected you at those times.
11. Posted by Miss Syl on September 9, 2007
I think that there was something in the back of my mind about how careful I had to be in each situation. I guess my drinking problem in a nutshell is this: when I start, it's *really* hard to stop.
During the trips I mentioned, the environment I was in was stimulating or happy enough to where I didn't think too much about drinking. There were also other times like this, when there were other pressing issues besides imbibing that took my mind off how much I was drinking.
But anyway, each time I drank, something in my mind said, Be Careful. So the knowledge that I tend to overdo things was always there, but the strength or urgency of it depended on the situation. For instance, the feelings you described were present when I was drinking alone. There was also a constant anxiety over "supply" at those times; I was always worried about running out and being unable to buy any. Also, the strength of the craving varied from situation to situation. Sometimes, I had to have it no matter what. Other times, it was just a fun thing I chose to do.
There's also the sensory pleasure of alcohol aside from all the mental baggage -- Belgian beers are just fucken tasty. I simply miss the taste of these things.
12. Posted by Hiromi on September 9, 2007