The Clumsy Interloper

Today marks my first alcohol-free year of adulthood. It’s been an illuminating 365 days, both in how I perceive drinking and how others regard my decision. The support I’ve received has been beyond heartening and I owe a debt to the encouraging words from neighbors, friends and family members who have championed my new path. I’ve forged meaningful connections with others practicing an alcohol-free lifestyle, both with those who are in recovery programs and those, like myself, who have found spontaneous sobriety. “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together” rings in my head while I reflect on this journey.

I’ve also felt a distance in other instances when I am the lone non-drinker at the table, it’s getting late and the topic of another round enters the conversation. This is when the disconnection I feel regarding the marginal utility of more drinking becomes amplified. The others will nod at each other and gesture to their quarter filled glasses in a wordless ballet of bargaining and permission seeking. The server will hover for a moment awaiting a verdict and then, without fanfare, the deed is done. More beers. I am not consulted, nor should I be, as my stake in this is considerably lower. This is a fleeting, minor discomfort, but one that effects my social relationships nonetheless. I have a creeping paranoia that I am silently being relegated down the depth chart of certain circles when crafting a night out. I don’t truly feel any FOMO in these instances, but I am aware that my abstaining does carry a cost. My mere presence is a catalyst for cognitive dissonance in others. The act of drinking, which previously was an autonomic activity in certain enviroments, now becomes a consciously weighted act that must be momentarily regarded and processed. Thanks, Alan.

As I mentioned in my Sober Curious series (Parts I, II, III, IV) alcohol was spliced together with a conceptual self, something that I regarded as an intrinsic component of how I functioned and traversed life. It was an ebullient tonic, quite literally, that provided a foundation for how I interfaced with my surroundings.

In previous years I employed alcohol to circumnavigate my most difficult feelings. I muted self-awareness, instead favoring the siren calls of complacency and avoidance. Alcohol was a dull tool that I used to whittle a cavity in my thoughts where I squirreled away my insecurities, fears and guilt. It was a warm blanket after a cold day. It was a temporary reprieve from a constant sorrow.

After a year of sobriety, I don’t feel more virtuous or enlightened, but I do feel happier in mind and body. I am not beholden to alcohol to combat the tides of my emotions, thoughts or feelings. Thank you for reading this and by doing so you are actually a participant in my therapy. I am grateful for you and your interest in my story. If you have even a passing sober curiosity, don’t hesitate to reach out – alan@theclumsyinterloper.com – together we go far.