World Alcohol-Free Day

If anyone had suggested to me, only a few years ago, that I do without alcohol for one day, especially during  a national holiday, I would have laughed in their face and immediately cracked open a bottle of Crémant.

Alcohol was an integral part of my life, starting in my childhood with a sip of the adults’ wine at Christmas and a wee glass of Sherry at New Year.  In England, the local pub was the nub of social life. As a teenagers, we frantically re-calculated our years of birth in the hope of fooling the pub bartenders. 

Parties during my later teens flowed with alcohol, whether the parents were present or not. As a student, I spent as much time in the bar as in the library and there was hardly a weekend without a drunken revel.

This continued throughout my early working life. Liquid lunches and a drink after work were often the order of the day. In some workplaces, the boss would crack open a bottle of champagne (or more) on a Friday afternoon and a group of us would end the week in a haze of bubbly. Then, on to the weekend and the bars, clubs and Sunday brunches laced with Mimosas (sparkling wine with orange juice).

Nobody thought anything of it. There was the occasional rumour that someone or other had disappeared somewhere to dry-out, and we would shake our heads in sympathy. It never occurred to us that we might be heading in the same direction. No. We could hold our drink.

I took pride in the fact that I had everything under control, that I could drink everyone else under the table. It wasn’t until the third, serious bout of depression that I twigged that my years of regular alcohol consumption may well have been a contributing factor.

I was the party girl, my friends’ Happy Pill, who they called when they were feeling down. Unfortunately, by the time I realised that the Happy Pill was a sad pill, leaning on a bottle or two of wine a day for support, none of my friends could help me.

I had often managed to go without alcohol, sometimes for months, even a couple of years, so it didn’t occur to me that I might have a problem. After a long break, I was convinced that I had things under control, so just one glass wouldn’t hurt.

Within a few days, the glass would increase to a bottle, one bottle to two, and off I was again. I still couldn’t admit that this was not normal. I was “Miss Fun and Sunshine”.  Other people had drinking problems – not me!

I was never the Vodka before breakfast type and two bottles a day, give or take a social nip with friends, was my limit. By the time I realised that this, in my case, was not far off from your average alcoholic, I was in pretty deep.

I made an appointment with a therapist at a local organisation, dealing specifically with addiction, and started therapy. 

It took about a year before I became so shocked by the consequences of an evening of drinking, that I woke up one morning and decided this was it! No more. Since that day, I haven’t drunk a drop. What also helped was admitting to my friends (who was I kidding? – of course they had noticed!) that things had got out of hand and I wanted to stop, but didn’t know if and when I could manage. 

It was their understanding and acceptance of me which gave me the strength to finally put an end to this destructive behaviour. That, and the final shock of realising that I had yet again sent a whining message to one of my sons, complaining that I rarely heard from him. This in spite of the fact that I had only shortly before promised not to nag. No wonder he wasn’t keen on staying in touch!

For a while, I avoided going out and being around people who drank. When I did venture out, I turned down offers of alcoholic beverages and was met with disbelief. “What? Only a coke? Come on, just one drink won’t hurt”.

Too ashamed to admit that I had a problem with alcohol, I would tell them I didn’t like the taste. This did not deter them. They just could not accept that I did not want to imbibe the stuff, no matter what the reason.

Eventually I plucked up courage and told them I was an alcoholic. To my surprise, they looked at me in admiration and said: “Respect!”

As a matter of fact, after three years of continued therapy and regular attendance at a Self-Help group, I don’t believe that I am an alcoholic, but I know that I am susceptible.

October the third is a holiday here, celebrating the unification of Germany – The Fall Of The Wall. This year it is also World Alcohol Free Day. Perhaps on this day some of you might consider providing some solidarity for us non-drinkers by doing without. Just for one day. It is a tall order. 

What? No alcohol? During a holiday? Where did I put that bottle of ‘Chateau de Quoi?’ Gimme a break!  This would have been my reaction, a few years ago.

I am the last person to play the missionary. My choices and needs are mine, and I have no desire to impose them on others. There are many lucky people out there who are able to enjoy and savour a couple of glasses of the drink of their choice and leave it at that.

Well, even if temporarily doing without is inconceivable, perhaps you could spare a thought for those of us who are deprived of the pleasure of sipping and savouring.  If met by a polite refusal of your kind offer to buy “ … just one drink, – where’s the harm in that?”, please take a step back and accept that the gesture is appreciated, but a bottle of coke, sparkling water – whatever the preferred drink, is just fine. I wouldn’t dream of trying to persuade anyone to drink coke against their wishes.

Oh, by the way. Since I stopped drinking alcohol, I have discovered that I can have much more fun, dance harder and longer and am way funnier than I used to be!  AND … I wake up every morning with a clear head, a clean conscience, and I definitely do not miss those hangovers!