Nine. very. long. thirsty. days.
That’s how long I have endured not touching the so-called
demon drink.
What’s worse is that I have 22 days to go.
That’s 528 hours which is 31,680 minutes or 1,900,800
seconds. Not that I am counting or
anything!
Abstinence has got me thinking though. Why am I doing it? This is a question echoed from just about
every person that has offered me a drink over the last week and a half.
I am not an alcoholic or anything, although you could be forgiven for thinking so with the way I started this blog. It is not my intention to make light of a serious problem that some people battle with on a daily basis or the fact that many young Australians continue to binge drink at very dangerous levels.
For me I guess it simply came down to seeing if I could go a whole
month living life as normal without giving into temptation or peer pressure to
drink alcohol.
If popular culture has taught us anything over the years, it’s
that drinking is a favourite Aussie past time and something we do when just about any social occasion arises.
In the last week of June my partner posed the challenge and I
accepted. What then ensued were several
drunken nights drinking the fridge and cupboards dry of every last alcoholic
drop.
I think this was a little counterproductive and completely
unnecessary but we had a whole lot of fun doing it!
Things were going well until the first hurdle, State of
Origin Grand Final at Suncorp Stadium.
Brad lasted three whole days. Now I am on my own.
Indulging most nights in a glass or two of wine has become a
habit over the years and also a useful stress reliever after work.
Even as I type, I am missing the familiar sight of a wine
glass beside my screen and a niggling and curious feeling that something is
missing from my life.
But apart from this, I have noticed something else that
disturbs me a little.
Actually it concerns me a lot.
I have begun to decline invitations this month to social
outings with friends particularly at night because, well, it’s easier.
I even declined a date night with Brad at a new tapas bar
because I couldn’t drink wine. Instead,
telling him to book it in August.
What is happening to me?
This is not the point of Dry July, for me anyway. The purpose was to go on living life as
normal, not change my whole life completely!
So given that I have 22 days to go, I can either snap out of
it and pray the nearest bottle-o is still open or take the road less travelled
and accept the next invitation to ‘drinks’ and begrudgingly be the designated
driver.
I am still keen to see this through though just to say I did it but I feel the point of doing so is being lost on me by the day.
Reflecting on the 216 hours that have passed since my last
sip I don’t see the harm in drinking in moderation.
Particularly if it means not turning into a hermit and getting my butt out the door to
catch-up with friends.
