You can do it

I wish I had known I had the power to quit drinking earlier than I did. My hope for this post is that it plants a seed in someone’s mind that may be helpful when their quit day arrives.

People quit drinking in all sorts of ways. Some do Alcoholics Anonymous. Some do addiction-specific therapy. Some turn to a spiritual advisor for help and strength. Some do it cold turkey.

What will work for you? I don’t know, and I don’t care, as long as you’re making the choice to do better by yourself and your method helps you. If you want to quit drinking, I want you to be successful.

And you can do it! I’m sure of that because I was sure that I could not do it, and I surprised myself. By the time I got to the end of my career as an alcoholic, but before I stopped, I’d resigned myself to staying there. I’d never have the willpower. How would I cope with my mad life without those drinks every night?

Of course, part of the reason my life was mad was because of the drinking, but drunks make excuses for everything.

But my drinking was only part of why my life was mad. It was not so much the sole cause as it was a symptom of un-managed past abuse (from others, from myself) that interlocked with the choices I made in friends, social circles, what to do with my days and nights.

And I feel duty-bound to warn you: Once you quit drinking, you haven’t solved everything. The mess I had made of my life, my relationships, and of myself came roaring into focus right in front of my face.

The three months after I quit drinking comprised one of my lowest depressive-anxiety episodes ever. No hyperbole—it was agony every day. Why? Because I was staring directly at the terrible things I’d done to myself, and the mess I’d made of my life, for almost 25 years. Without the soft focus of vodka to make it look prettier than it was.

But that episode ended. It really did. It was only three months. That’s an eternity for a major depressive episode, and if anything like this happens for you, you’re gonna fucking hate it. It was necessary suffering, though. I had to see myself and my life clearly to the point of intense pain to learn the truth about the choices I’d made.

I did it cold turkey. On June 10, 2020, I woke up with the usual out of control anxiety that accompanies the hangover. For some reason, that morning, it was obvious for the first time that I was anxious every single day to absurd degrees because that’s what happens when you open the bottle every night at 6 pm and don’t stop until you’re so drunk you can “fall asleep”.

It was a horror. The shame and regret and remorse was stronger than I can remember ever feeling before. “Look what you’ve done to your life. Look what you’ve done to yourself for 25 years.” I saw it and it was stark.

The horror and fear was necessary for me. I resolved to never take another drink that morning, and I have never taken another one. No, I don’t know why it was that day and not any other day.

The first week was the worst. Panic, anxiety constantly. Interestingly, though, no real “cravings.” The thought of imbibing alcohol was—and this happened overnight!—so disgusting to me it was easier than I thought to not take a drink.

Because I had never been a daytime drinker, that probably helped me squeak by cutting it off cold turkey without the most dramatic withdrawal symptoms. I suspect I was on the cusp of needing detox help, but just far enough away from major physical dependency that I was able to do it alone.

What will work for you? I don’t know. And I really don’t care as long as it’s your choice, and as long as the method you choose helps you get there.

I just want you to know that you can do this. If you’re reading this and you’ve been lying to yourself for years that you’re not really a drunk when you know you are, or if you’ve resigned yourself to it because you’re “not strong enough,” start telling yourself a different story. One where you’re a rational actor who can make choices for himself.

You are. I have been where your head and heart is. I told myself I couldn’t beat it. That was selling myself short.

Don’t sell yourself short. You’re worth a lot more, and your will is stronger than you credit.

Good luck.