Hi, my name is DancingPickle. I don’t like the term alcoholic, and I don’t want to discuss my reasons for that here because I’m not trying to start a debate.
Pretty much from college in 1996 through every major life period since, I have had a problematic relationship with alcohol. Like for many people, this interfered with opportunities and relationships in ways that I am still daily reminded or realize completely unprovoked. For example, thoughts like “oh yeah… that boss wasn’t treating me unfairly… he passed me over because he didn’t want his awareness of my issues to become part of his exposed vulnerability surface” kind of realizations. Reminders of girlfriends who abruptly cut things off that were going well. Friends who ghosted me after hanging out every day.
Realizations that really hurt, but which hardly mattered because I had a bottled friend who effectively numbed that before lunch.
I started to get old. Married. Kids. Fat. Regardless of how high functioning and successful I managed to project, I also managed to keep drinking far more than anyone should - probably in excess of 2000 calories a day in alcohol alone, living a sedentary work from home lifestyle in high technology.
My wife, also a … considerable consumer of beverages, started complaining to me (rightfully) about my behavior. I thought this was somewhat hypocritical, and I still do, but we are all the masters of our own destinies and of nobody else’s, so I determined to take control of mine.
I quit drinking in 2021, for the entire year. Not a whiff of alcohol from January first until the new year 2022. During that time, after the first couple of weeks of bleariness, sweating out, insomnia, etc, everything got pretty normal. I think that because I had a deadline in mind, that being a year, I was cushioned somewhat from the long reaching existential questions. My health improved, doctor liked my bloodwork, my attitude was better and I was perhaps somewhat less irritable.
I didn’t lose any weight, sadly, in spite of counting calories and doing slightly more activities outside the house. I did, however, start working technical projects that I never would have had the time, motivation or coordination (or money) to afford when all my free time was spent doing shots and beers.
2022 came and I became a train wreck. My alcohol behaviors weren’t worse than before, but they were the same, and now the problem was that my family had seen what I was like sober and this was a dramatic departure from that. I would go on a bender for a couple of months, sober for a couple of weeks, bender for a few more, sober for a month… it was a rollercoaster. Not sustainable. Gained more weight.
So in 2023 I decided to stop again, this time with no “end date.” Alcohol had become incompatible with the lifestyle I knew I wanted and I know that my predilection for overdoing just about anything - alcohol being just one manifestation - prohibited me from having a beer now and then. It had, sadly, to be all or nothing.
I haven’t had a drink in nearly six months, and I’ve lost 30 pounds and counting. My friends say I’m sharper and more articulate. But that improvement didn’t come without a mental health struggle that needs to be mentioned as part of this history because it wouldn’t be fair to leave it out.
Throughout my life, I’ve been dealing with undiagnosed general and social anxiety. This didn’t become a medical issue until, say 2005ish, when I was prescribed benzodiazepines and learned what life could be like when not totally crippled by anxiety. Unfortunately, anyone who knows a thing or two about benzos knows that in the space of time between the mid 2000s and today, the tide of approval shifted and GPs no longer were keen to keep on prescribing them, so that fizzled and I just used alcohol instead. Well, quitting this year removed my last remaining chemical crutch (I quit smoking 5 years ago) so some problems began.
Almost immediately I started to get depressed. This turned into a long term spell that didn’t really resolve itself until about a month ago. I tried several different SSRI / SNRI treatments and some alternatives, but across the board the cure was worse than the disease. It wasn’t until I was off everything for over a month that I started to feel better.
I can’t say with absolute conviction that I’ll never have a drink again, but I can say that I have no such intention today. I have plenty of experience to help me predict how it might turn out in the future. Right now, I feel good apart from being increasingly aware of all the shit I fucked up and how much better off I’d be if I never got into the situation in the first place. But that is how it is.
To close this, I will add that I don’t believe in gods. A person need not give up control to a third party to make a healthy decision in their lives. Prayer is of no objective consequence. What truly matters is having the courage of your convictions and the personal motivation, wherever you find it, to follow through each day and confront complications with whatever support you can muster.
Well, two of them erased my sex drive, and masturbating is one of the few things that gave me joy when I was depressed, so it made me more depressed to be completely disinterested and unable to be aroused. One of them made me feel like I was literally falling at random times. My doc referred to that as “inescapable feeling of dread” which I would agree with having no better explanation for it. Wasn’t vertigo. Just helplessness.
Wellbutrin in particular was great against depression, but made me wicked on edge (much worse anxiety) and was only made better in combination with Cymbalta… which took my boner away.
I decided at the end of that run with medications that as much as anxiety sucks, I’ve lived with it for decades and it’s kind of my baseline. I have access to benzos “as needed” which it turns out is enough, maybe twice a week I take one and cool the fuck out. The rest of the time I’m just on edge and short fused, and it’s more important for me to get to peace with that reality of my physiology than to keep mucking around with my brain chemistry every month and a half, chasing rabbits I’ll never catch down the hole to Wonderland.
It’s not all bad. Being highly strung is only very rarely a liability, much less so than being a (nonviolent but nonetheless predictably sloppy) drunk. On the occasions when it is, such as snapping at a loved one or inappropriately overreacting to a situation, an apology and explanation helps. When it’s under control, it really helps with motivation and drive. When it’s not, a Klonopin or a Propranolol works … well enough.
So, you know, make lemonade.