What to do instead of drinking alcohol – The Eye-Stabbing Reality of Google Advice
Have you ever Googled something, just to be completely underwhelmed by the response?
I Googled ‘what to do instead of drinking alcohol’, and while the results were many and diverse, and began with links to “the Alcohol helpline”, a large number of the suggested activities would definitely be seen on the road to the retirement village that I am already meandering towards. Things like: read or write poetry, take a trip to your local church or mosque, become a youth mentor, or take up knitting—then stick the knitting needles in your eyeballs!!! Then there are other suggestions like ‘go for a walk around your neighbourhood and take photos’. That can piss right off. Photography (well, videography, if we are nitpicking) is precisely what got me into this situation, and if I were to take up any more extreme sports, I believe there is a high likelihood my life insurance will be cancelled!
So, what is going to fill the void left by alcohol for me?
Thanks for the free therapy
Writing this has helped a lot. It’s taken a lot of time, but it has been a distraction and has been cathartic – a very cheap form of therapy (I now bestow on you all the title of honorary psychologists). It’s helped me process some of the stressors and ups and downs I have encountered over the last few weeks. Not just in stopping drinking, but also with the frustrations with my foot, returning to work, and with life and home in general.
Could I do this blog if I was still drinking? Yes, probably, but I would be more likely to give up, I think. I’d get tired more easily and would probably be less coherent. This is something I have wanted to do for ages, and it’s like removing alcohol has made space for this. It seems Aristotle may have been on to something when he said, ‘nature abhors a vacuum.’
While writing fills the evening void, pulling out a laptop at a party isn’t exactly social gold. I need options for the real world, specifically social events where there are people (eww). That means tackling a dual challenge: managing the desire to drink and confronting the anxiety that triggers it.
The Tactical Exit and the unhelpful copilot
I’ve tried strategic exits at parties previously when I have not been drinking. My partner and I plan ahead exactly what time we will leave, being very clear with the host at the outset that we have things to do tomorrow and will be leaving early.
The problem with this strategy is the unhelpful co-pilot. While I am trying to stick to the flight plan, he is strapping on his parachute and diving straight into the party.
After a couple of hours of imbibing, he has safely crash-landed in Tipsyville. Our best-laid exodus plan goes swiftly out the window because he is entirely engrossed with his new BFF.
I am then left with two options: play the right royal partypooping air-traffic controller and force him into the car, or eject myself from the cockpit and leave him to find his own way home. I have done both in the past.
So the old ‘here for a good time, not a long time’ strategy doesn’t work with a hijacker on board. I’m going to have to try something completely out of the box.
My sobriety shouldn’t mean hubby has to stay locked in the cockpit with me, but it also shouldn’t mean I’m trapped waiting at the airport terminal for three hours while he parties., with my social anxiety sky rocketing while I twiddle my thumbs in a corner.
So, the new plan requires a strict, pre-flight negotiation before we even leave the driveway. We need a dual-exit strategy: he gets to stay in Tipsyville if he’s having a blast, but my departure time is non-negotiable. I get to leave early, he gets an Uber later, and nobody has to be the bad guy.
The ‘Tomorrow Strategy’ and the Pants Test
Along with the dual-exit plan, I’m implementing a strict new rule for RSVPs: the ‘Tomorrow Strategy.’
I have a terrible habit of agreeing to social invitations weeks in advance. In my head, ‘Future Me’ is a glamorous, high-energy extrovert who thrives on bass-heavy karaoke and loves making small talk with strangers. She sounds delightful. Unfortunately, she doesn’t exist.
From now on, when an invite comes in, I will look at it as though it is happening tomorrow or this weekend, rather than some abstract date in the future. I have to look myself in the mirror and ask: If this party was happening in exactly 2 hours, would I willingly put on pants and go? If the answer is no, then it’s a firm no for next month, too. If I wouldn’t do it tomorrow, I’m not signing up ‘Future Me’ for the torture. On the flipside too I think there is part of me that needs to suck it up a little and if I have said yes, just go. I often make excuses (my kids are really not sick as often as I would have the world believe) and bail, then end up feeling shit. I need to make a firm commitment that if I say ‘Yes’, unless someone is dying I will at least make an appearance (with exit strategy firmly in place).
So, while I’ve got some viable strategies up my sleeve, there is still work to be done. I’m sure as time goes on, I will inevitably explore some of those nana-road habits and just accept that my era of downing shots and dancing on tables has been and gone.
But for now, thank you all for unknowingly being my therapists. To wrap this up, I would like to give advanced notice that I will be politely declining any future events where there are – well, let’s be generous – more than two people.
