Surviving your first alcohol free holiday
A holiday without alcohol can accelerate or destroy your sobriety. A diary of leaning into my first alcohol free holiday, and what I learned from the experience. Days 58 to 71.
Summer is here, and many people are looking forward to a break in the sun. But holidays can be a source of anxiety for those in the early stages of giving up alcohol. The thought of a holiday without that cold beer or wine is unthinkable when you are drinking, and this is the undoing of many a sobriety attempt. There are many layers to the holiday drinking trap; the association of alcohol with the need for reward, relief and relaxation, the stress of being away from routines, boredom, and social pressure. That first holiday without drinking can be challenging, but its the kind of challenge you need to go through to reap the reward you are looking for. As with many things, the trick is lean into the experience and explore it for what it is, and what it means. For many, holiday are a time to escape, and alcohol is the tool they use to achieve this quickly. If you are serious about giving up drinking, you can’t afford to indulge in the fantasy of escape. That path leads right back to the ‘fuck it’ button. That first holiday without drinking is something to be explored, not endured. Holidays can either accellerate or destroy your sobriety. By leaning in to the space created by an booze free holiday, you will discover important things about yourself, your life and your relationship with alcohol. You will also enjoy it more, I promise.
What follows is my diary during my first proper ‘sun and sand’ holiday without drinking. I should probably follow this up with a Summer Holiday Survival Plan!
Day 58
I have arrived in my happy place. Club La Santa, Lanzarote. We have spent many happy holidays with kids, friends and family here. Just the two of us this time, but this is also great. I don’t associate this place with drinking particularly, so it feels safe in that respect. I’ve already done more exercise by lunchtime than I managed the whole of last week! I have got a bit of work to do today before I can start to switch off - the minor costs of being a freelancer.
Feeling very lucky and very happy. Almost too lucky and too happy - just waiting for the hammer to fall!
Day 59
A.M.
I had TEN hours sleep last night! And I could have easily slept two more. All set up for another day of exercise. There’s a 5k running track around the laguna opposite the apartment - the keen beans run it every morning. I like to monitor their progress from the apartment with my coffee. It’s nice they have found something they love doing! I love coffee!
P.M.
Day one of the holiday down. Feels good to be challenging my body again. Very tired. No Beef Hula Hoops but Spanish Crisps are an adequate substitute, along with Alcohol Free (Sin) beer. I doubt I am going to make it past 9pm tonight without falling asleep!
Day 60
60 freakin’ days! In one sense the numbers are completely arbitrary, but recently there’s been a shift in their meaning. They’ve moved from something I want to achieve to something I want to cherish. The gains in self-respect, mental health and sleep are things I value and don’t want to give up. If I drank now, I would be giving up more than just numbers, I would be giving up on a fledgling new me.
Yesterday, I told my partner I wanted to get to a year. This is the first time I have said this out loud to anyone. They were supportive. I don’t know why I’m not ready to talk openly about my desire to no longer drink. It still feels too big. Perhaps I know my psychology - as soon as I state for certain that I want something, the process of sabotage will kick in. So, I am aiming for a year by not stating that I am aiming for a year! Warped, I know.
Day 61
All good here. Did a run. Knee held out. Will swim later.
Meet Sobie - he’s my new Cactus Holiday Accountability Pal. I stop and have a good chat with him each day on the way to the pool.
Meet Sobie: Your new Holiday Catcus Accountability Pal
Day 62
A.M.
Broken sleep. Anxiety about nothing. But not too bothered - can always catch up on the sun lounger later. Squash, swim, and now a nap!
P.M.
Run, swim, and cross training this afternoon. I did have thoughts about drinking today - I think the trigger was boredom. I find it difficult to switch off and alcohol is the easiest way to get that chilled out feeling. I was also triggered by seeing a guy about my age relaxing after a long bike ride with a glass of wine AND an ice-cold beer. B@stard! I allowed myself a moment of self-pity – centred mainly around thoughts that (a) it was unfair that I couldn’t have the same, and (b) a mild anger that I had allowed my drinking to get so out of control that I had to go to the extremes of giving up completely. But these thoughts were fleeting. I’m writing this a couple of hours later. I have some chocolate, a wonderful view and am about to start a new novel! These are experiences worth having, and ones that would not have been available to me if I had started to drink at 3pm.
Day 63
A.M.
I’m in a weird place. I am happy, but also full of anxiety and can’t relax. I’m having an existential crisis about the point of life. Not in a depressed way, just a kids-have-left-home, career-choice-point, how-do-I-want-to-spend-my-life way. You know, normal holiday-without-drinking stuff!!!
Anyhow, I dare say that will sort itself out in due course. The answer usually presents itself if I sit still long enough to hear it.
I’m reading ‘The Biology of Desire: Why Addiction is Not a Disease’ by Marc Lewis. It’s a really great book on the neurobiology of addiction. This passage really made sense to me:
“People choose to stop when they have suffered more than enough. And when circumstances lend a hand. And when the possibility of self-control becomes as attractive - more attractive- than any other possibility, including temporary relief.
In fact, real choice is not a one-shot deal. It is not a moment in time or a fork in the road. Rather, self-control thrives, as does addiction, when new mental habits are fashioned, and rehearsed, and strengthened by ongoing self-reinforcement. Choice may indeed be the antidote to compulsion, but it is an evolving skill… fuelled by the desire for strength and freedom.”
I really like the idea of choice being a skill. If choosing not to drink is a skill, it can be learned. If it can be learned, then it is possible. There is no fatal flaw to be fixed. No need to prostrate myself in front of a higher power that don’t believe in. It’s just learning a complex skill. There’s lots of evidence I can do that.
P.M.
A good day today - spent most of it reading in between naps on the sun lounger. And some sketching on the shoreline.
A very strange thing happened in the resort bar today, I actually groaned out loud as I passed a woman chugging down a giant goblet of red! I had the urge to snatch it out of her hand and throw it down my throat. It came from nowhere - no itchy feeling beforehand. No Booze Bitch whispering in my ear. Just a pure stimulus-response thing. Luckily, I don’t think anyone heard me - they were probably too pissed to notice! I bent down and rubbed my knee so people would think it was a twinge from a sports injury.
Day 64
Woke up feeling calm and a bit normal. I’ve not felt settled on this holiday, even though I am enjoying it very much.
I’m eight days in and this is the longest I’ve been on holiday without a drink. Went to a little taverna in the town next to the resort last night. We’ve been visiting this place for years. At the end of the meal, they produce a bottle of honey liqueur and pour you a glass without asking. It’s a lovely custom - but not for those doing battle with the Booze Bitch! I love the stuff - it’s really nice. Sometimes they make the mistake of leaving the bottle on the table, and Booze Me would have sneaked in at least two extra shots! This was a trigger point I anticipated. In fact, I had considered whether we should even go there as it might be a risk. But, although risky, it felt too restrictive. When the waiter approached with the bottle, I shooed it away before it got poured. He looked offended and I felt a bit bad, but the discomfort was short lived.
Apart from the odd micro-pang The Booze Bitch seems to have left her passport at home. It’s interesting to reflect on how different this was from the Paris trip. I felt her constantly whispering in my ear there.
It does get easier, but I am not allowing myself to get complacent!
Day 65
A.M.
The fuck-it button is right in front of me.
I just found out I didn’t get shortlisted for a job I was asked to apply for - a job I am already partly doing.
I’m miffed and mystified. Other good candidates did not get shortlisted either. Before I got the email, I was not sure I wanted the job anyway. In some ways not getting shortlisted is helpful because it closes off one avenue and simplifies my choices.
But still, I want to be wanted- don’t we all! I know it’s their loss. I know I could excel in the role if I had the opportunity and wanted it. However, at the heart of my relationship with booze is the fact that I am an all-or-nothing person, a perfectionist that does not tolerate failure very well. I’m either at the top or the bottom, people love me or hate me - there are few grey areas in my life. I hate that my professional network will know I applied and didn’t even get an interview! I feel ashamed of myself and foolish that I even thought to try! I can recognise these thoughts and feelings for what they are - dysfunctional and inaccurate (I hope), but they are still there, colouring the moment, eating away at the positive reframes!
I also wanted to add some intensity to my workouts today. If only to work off my frustration. But my knee is playing up and so I can’t do that. I tried but it was too painful. This is not turning out to be a good day.
Of course, these are the perfect setting conditions to hit the “fuck it” button. Slam that fist down and head to the bar. It would be so easy to nurture the hurt and get lost in a self-pitying narrative: I am Fat, Fifty, Follicularly Challenged and unFuckinployable! It is a well-practiced route to the booze fuelled pity party. If not getting shortlisted for a job that you are already doing is not a reason to drink, what is?
But I will not go there. I will find another way!
P.M.
Too much drama today, even for me.
Turns out I was invited for interview - it was a system error!
Frigging hell! I just can’t cope with the range of emotions I am going through today! Happy (“I am in my favourite place in the world”), to sad (“I am not wanted”) to relieved (“Didn’t want it anyway”), to confused (“Why don’t they want me”) to angry (“Stupid arseholes”), and now back to confused (“Do I actually want this now that I could have it?”).
Four seasons in one day!
And now I must stop myself from pressing the “fuck it button of success!” What better way to celebrate getting shortlisted than a pint or two?!
But I’m not going there. I will find another way!
Day 66
A quiet day after yesterdays drama. Exhausted, but happy I didn’t give into the Booze Bitch. Pilates, Yoga, Badminton, Swim and Step. Plus reading. Knee hanging on for dear life. Knackered. Reckon I will be asleep by 9.
Day 67
A.M.
Feeling a bit meh today. Tired of being in constant pain with my back (an old problem) and soreness and stiffness from exercise. I want to just go and smash out some high intensity exercise. However, I will be sensible and have limit myself to a swim, some core work and will prob go on a FW later (FW: F@ck Walk – a f@cking Walk for my f@cking stupid mental health).
P.M.
I went paddle boarding for the first time today. My entire body hurts. I went out on the water like I was on Hawaii-Five-O, only to realise that coming back in a headwind is bloody hard work and perhaps left to the experienced!
Nevertheless, paddleboarding is like sobriety. The moment you let your attention wander from the goal of staying upright, the water will take you! It’s the most perfect metaphor for how alcohol has taken me down the path it wants over the last twenty years.
Day 69
A.M.
Last two days of the holiday. I’ve just finished my fifth book of the holiday - this would have been unthinkable if drinking. I would have brought the books, but fallen asleep whilst reading the same page of the first book over and over again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about desire, no - not that kind of desire, but the experience of wanting something. I’ve been reading about this and it turns out that the “problem” of addiction is not so much the rewarding properties of the substance itself, but the fact that it sets alight those regions of the brain responsible for “wanting.” This is why we continue to drink when the actual act of drinking stops being pleasant or fun. The wanting has become dislocated from the reward, and the wanting takes over control of the brain.
I have also been reading “A Month In Siena” by Hisham Matar, which is an autobiographical account of a trip to Siena to view some paintings. Amongst all the musings on art, life and death was this rather lovely description of “desire”…
“Desire, its continuum, is reliant on yearning, on the unfulfilled wish, the frustrated appetite.
Desire…dies the moment it achieves its end. What keeps our passion for anything, anybody alive is the promise of attainment. In other words there is a contradiction between what desire wants - complete conquest - and what it needs to continue to survive: mystery, the unknowable.”
There, in the middle of this book about the Sienese School of Painting, was this beautiful passage talking directly to the experience of giving up alcohol. I’m taking this as a sign I am on the right path.
But, beyond the sign, what an amazing description of the inherent conflict at the heart of our relationship to alcohol.
Our personal mythologies about our drinking days, reinforced by society, fans the flames of our desire for alcohol. We are constantly told, and tell ourselves, what drinking will do for us. Let’s not pretend that alcohol once served a useful purpose at some point in our lives – the alleviation of anxiety, a social lubricant, a quick conduit to fun. But alcohol has now outlived that original purpose and has become the problem rather than the solution.
There are only two ways out of our desire for a thing we know is bad for us. We can continue drinking and submit ourselves to the “complete conquest” required by our desire for alcohol. Eventually this will result in self-destruction – the ultimate way out.
Or we can work to dismantle the desire from within. Educating ourselves to see through those personal and societal mythologies so that we can clearly see the realities of a drinking life; the misery from the false promises that we have been fed, and in turn have been feeding.
Todays image is a lovely decrepit old door I found in the town of Famara. I’m a bit obsessed with doors at the moment - portals to a new life and all that!!!!
PM. Swim, Run, Step Class today: Steptathlon! A moment of sublime happiness sitting on the apartment balcony, reading a beautiful book. Knackered. Content.
A beatiful old door in Famara, Lanzarote. A portal, perhaps.
Day 70
Finally in the 70’s - thought I was destined to be in the 60’s forever!
Had a proper drinking dream last night - my first. I woke up and cried - I was devastated. In that crazy place between sleep and waking, I thought it was real! This even though the dream involved drinking in a car that was lodged in the branches of a tree, alongside a talking owl! Perhaps there were magic mushrooms on last nights pizza!
The degree of devastation I felt was surprising – I didn’t think that sobriety meant that much to me.
It’s the last full day of the holiday. I got up after the dream, did some life admin, wrote for a couple of hours, then to a yoga class. I’m finally getting some flexibility back into my body and not grunting like a warthog with every downward dog!
Feeling very relaxed and not going to engage in anything too strenuous today. Just going to oscillate between snoozing and idly fantasising about how to spend more of my life doing less!
Right now there are no clouds on this horizon. I’m finally able to enjoy this moment, and there are no intrusive thoughts about past regrets or worries about the future. It won’t last, but that really doesn’t matter! This, right now, is more than enough.
Day 71
Holiday done. It’s been fantastic. I’m returning fitter than I arrived, with more mobility in this wretched body I have ruined by endless hours of overwork.
The picture is of the childrens playground at the resort. The last time I was here I got really pissed on the last night and went all Olga Korbut on the balance beam. I fell off and damaged my knee which meant I was out of action for a month. I was angry at myself and in a lot of pain. I found the video of the incident. It was pretty humiliating, but seemed so funny at the time.
Thankful that I am leaving in very different circumstances.
I have a hard partying friend staying with me for the next month, and a trip to a farmhouse with my Big Drinking Friends. Ironically, I am in charge of the food and drink, and have ordered crates of booze for everyone else.
Will take some earplugs and have also ordered loads of AF beer and sweets for myself!
My book Do I Drink Too Much? Stop Everyday Drinking From Becoming a Life-Limiting Addiction is out now on Amazon.