When I stopped drinking, I didn’t really expect or believe that I could actually go sober for that long a time period. I didn’t think I could do it. Even now, it seems like a crazy decision – an undertaking that was bold beyond my capabilitis. But I was driven to it because I was desperate.

My drinking was out of control: I felt anxious and depressed all the time, and I felt ashamed because I kept the worst of my habit hidden. I was not the loud party drunk who stays up all night having a great time; I had been that when I was younger, but as I hit my late twenties I turned into the quiet stay at home type. I was no longer always drinking to have fun. More often, I was drinking to cope with stress, to numb my emotions, and to forget about the pain I was feeling as a depressed person.

At the start of 2011, I knew I had to make a radical change in order to get a handle on my drinking habit. i had tried moderation and failed at it. Feb Fast 2010 had been great in giving me the confidence to believe that I might be able to change, but the old habits snuck easily back in once that month was over. I was drunk when I made the decision to go sober for a year, I was drunk when I sent out the email, and I remained inebriated for a few days after as well; I drank a lot of vodka and felt paralysed with anxiety about what lay ahead. It was a very scary time for me.

I was scared about giving up something I loved and enjoyed (or thought I did). I was scared about stepping into the unknown. Who would I be without drinking? Would I be able to have fun? How would I cope with pain? Travel, parties, events, festivals, flying, celebrations, commisserations, sex, fancy dining: how would I do these things without alcohol? And why would I want to? I couldn’t imagine it. But the desire to be in control of my drinking increasingly started to outweigh the objections and fears that I had. As I wrote at the time,

I’ve been drinking while travelling, dating, working, writing etc for years now and it hasn’t exactly lead to a great place.So how would my life look without it?

Coming across Brene Brown’s TedX talk on vulnerability was the turning point:

She says: when we numb our hard and scary feelings, we numb everything. So when I drink to deal, I’m also numbing my ability to be connected, to be happy, and to be joyous. This is probably obvious to everyone in the world but it really struck a chord with me.

So I took the plunge. I did the brave – and vulnerable – thing, and decided to stop drinking for a year.

It was hard. It was so hard. I felt raw and emotional and awful for quite a while. I also dealt with the fallout of having publicly admitting to having a drinking problem. I got a lot of feedback and support from all sorts of quarters, and though it was all encouraging, I felt pretty exposed. I also spent a bit of time talking with friends who hadn’t realised I had a problem. Like I said, I wasn’t always the party drunk. During my initial few weeks of sobriety, I concentrated on just getting through the days. The fact that I’d committed publicly made a massive difference; it kept me going.

Things got easier, of course. But it took time. At the six week mark I was still struggling – with the not-drinking, and the enormity of the project I had taken on. I didn’t know if I could make the distance. As I wrote then:

In a way my project sober reminds me of the Buddhist pilgrimage I did in 2008. I hiked 1200kms on my own in Japan (then wrote a book about it). If I’d truly understood at the beginning how long and difficult the pilgrimage was going to be I probably wouldn’t have started, however, getting through it was a monumental achievement and there is no better feeling than knowing that I did it! I still feel a thrill when I think about it. I’m hoping that being sober for a year is similar – an epic challenge that has a huge payoff at the end… so I’m going to keep my eye on the prize and remain sober, no matter how hard it might get.

I was still struggling at three months. I was pretty much on top of not drinking myself, but my habits were still aligned with booze culture – going out, being around other drinking people. So I felt like I was missing out a lot. But harder than that even, was the realisation that I didn’t really know how to cope without alcohol, and I didn’t really know who I was without drinking. At that stage, a year still seemed like a really, really, REALLY long time – even though I had knocked a quarter off already.

One of the hardest things is redefining how I see myself and accepting that others will see me differently. The most common responses when I say I’m not drinking are ‘oh you’re so responsible’ or ‘wow you’ve got so much willpower’ or even ‘I couldn’t do that it’s too much fun’ and I quite often perceive these comments to really mean ‘wow aren’t you boring’.

The issue of identity stayed with me. Yes, I was kicking goals in regards to things I was scared to do without booze – travel, sex, festivals, fancy dinners etc. But really those events are just physical acts, and I was still coping with the emotional fallout around living my life sober. I had to face up to a lot of stuff, and it wasn’t always easy. In particular I thought a lot about who I wanted to be – and who I didn’t want to be.

One of the questions I’m facing as a now-non-drinker is, who am I without it? I don’t want to be defined by what I’m not doing (drinking). I think that’s a big part of my problem with alcohol – it’s been a huge part of my identity, not just something I do. I’m starting to realise that physically not-ingesting alcohol might not be the hardest thing I do this year. Rather, looking inwards – and figuring out who I am, who I could be, and who I want to be – might just be the biggest challenge I face this year.

But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. At the five month mark I was on an absolute high from running my festival sober. I was so energetic and focussed right across the whole festival, it really made me realise how draining alcohol is, and how much I had been handicapping my potential by drinking so much, so often. The previous year, I had run a great festival while drinking throughout, but in 2011 I ran a brilliant festival and had a fantastic time while feeling on top of my game across the whole eleven days. (The only low light was not drinking on the final night of the festival; I did kind of feel like I was missing out then.)

And that’s when the tide started to shift for me. That’s when I started thinking less about not-drinking, and more about getting on with life. At the six and seven month mark, I became incredibly frustrated with Australia’s drinking culture and started changing my going-to-bars habit. I wasn’t a drinker, and I was bored of drunk people, so it became a no-brainer to avoid those kinds of situations. This did mean less socialising for a bit, but my connections with people were more meaningful when I did hang out with them. I also got way back into reading, and maximising my time in general. When you don’t drink, there are plenty of hours in the day to get all kinds of shit done. Vitally, I no longer felt I was missing out. Then I rode my bike across the mofo NULLARBOR PLAIN – and didn’t feel tempted to drink once. That was massive.

By the nine month mark, I had pretty much lost any desire to drink. I had wanted to quit for a year to give myself the time and space to form new, healthy drinking habits – but at some point along the way, I had kinda just lost the desire for alcohol. If I could do everything sober, then what was the point of drinking? The idea of drinking was just not a big deal, and I certainly wasn’t counting down until February to get my booze back on again. Not drinking had become the new habit.

Interestingly though, the not-drinking didn’t bring about a new lease on life. Actually, the last few months of the year, and the start of January this year, were really hard for me emotionally. In hindsight, I can see that it’s probably because I suddenly had the headspace and clarity to be facing my issues. Rather than numbing the pain or concentrating on getting through the day, I had the time to think about the areas of my life that I was unhappy with. I’m guessing there was also still a behaviour-change disconnect going on; drinking was no longer a habit, but questions about my identity had yet to be resolved. At the end of the year I was a total sad sack, actually, and I even went through a period of questioning whether not drinking for a year had been worth it!

And then… the year was up. I’d been sober for twelve months. How did I mark the occassion? I didn’t really. At the end of January I realised my sober year was coming to an end, and thought, that’s interesting. Then the day came, and passed. And the next, and the next. I had an ice cream and thought, cool. If I could go back in time twelve months, drunk Lisa would not have been able to believe it. Amazingly I didn’t even really feel a great sense of accomplishment – and nor did I have any desire to drink. My priorities and habits had shifted, and alcohol was no longer a part of my life equation.

The funny thing is, I’ve been really super-charged since mid-January. I did a detox and made some changes to my diet, and since then I’ve been feeling focussed, and energetic and happy. But I think the not-drinking has played a major part in that, even more so than the diet changes. I expected to feel awesome way earlier in my year of sobriety, to tell the truth. But in reality my moods, emotions and anxieties were the same as they had been when I was drinking – sometimes up, sometimes down. (Though the downs were less harsh when I was sober.) But maybe I’ve been ‘detoxing’ for a whole year – or, given how loaded the word ‘detox’ is, should I say… recharging? I’ve been drinking since I was fifteen (I’m 32), so it’s not unreasonable to consider that it took me the better part of a year to get over that, both physically and emotionally. Whatever the explanation, right now I’m feeling pretty damn awesome about life, and the not-drinking is a major part of that.

So where to from here? Am I sober for life? I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t have any desire to drink at the moment. My life is extremely busy right now, and I don’t want to waste a moment by being tipsy or hungover. I’ve set a few goals for 2012, and drinking doesn’t play any part in them.

That said, I am curious about how having a drink will affect me – but I feel cautious about it also. I know it’s a slippery slope, and I think I’m especially susceptible to addictive behaviour and pushing boundaries. So while I’d like to be someone who can enjoy one really good beer or glass of sparkling, I don’t know if I’m there yet. I’m just going to keep playing it by ear, taking each week as it comes, and see how I feel about things at every step along the way. What is awesome about that plan is: I am in control, something I couldn’t even imagine being possible twelve months ago.

That feeling of control is my biggest gain, the best thing to come out of twelve months of sobriety. Or perhaps a better word is power. I feel powerful, and powerfully in control. I’ve conquered not drinking for a year, perhaps the biggest undertaking of my adult life, and as a result I feel like I can do anything. I’ve never felt so unstoppable, or so hopeful about the future. Sure I still have self esteem issues, and emotional hangups, and problems (who doesn’t?), but they no longer feel crippling or out of control. Instead, when I think about my goals for the coming months and years, I think – yep, I can do that.

And that’s a way better feeling than I ever got from being drunk.

Love,

Lisa x

I have had a million conversations this year about drinking and a recurring theme is that the people around me have a general concern that they are drinking too much. I have tried not to be too evangelical about encouraging people to try Hello Sunday Morning, because I don’t want anyone to feel harassed about their life choices (I generally think that setting a good example is the best way to effect change)…

BUT…

Having experienced first hand the benefits of doing a HSM, I really want to tell people about it! I think it’s an amazing experience for anyone, whether they have a problem drinking or don’t; at the very least, when you’re not-drinking, you see very clearly the huge social importance alcohol plays in Australia. Anyway….

Today I decided what the hell and wrote a blog post encouraging the people I know to try doing a HSM #12in2012. It’s a great campaign and an excellent (and unjudgemental) way to encourage your peeps to give sobriety a try in 2012.

This is what I wrote: Say hi to Hello Sunday Morning’s #12in2012.

Having done one (or are doing one) yourself, is there someone you’d like to encourage to try a HSM next year?

In two months my self-enforced hiatus from drinking will be up. That’s been on my mind a bit. I’m not excited about it ending nor fantasising about that first drink I have, which is where I thought I would be now. Instead I feel a bit trepidatious about how it’s all going to go down when the clock ticks over into ‘ok drinking time’.

Has this year been long enough to have changed my habits and attitudes towards drinking? I think so. I don’t even really want to start drinking again, I don’t think – I certainly don’t want to get drunk. I’m going to play it by ear when February rolls around.

One thing is for certain, having something to replace drinking is really important when you give it up. Saving money and getting fitter have been big motivators for me this year. When my year is up, I’m going to set new not-drinking goals to start working towards.

Of particular relevance to this blog, I’m appearing on a panel called What I Talk About When I Talk About Getting Plastered. It’s about the sociology of alcohol, drugs and youth. (Sounds a bit high-falutin, but basically we’re just going to be chatting about drinking culture!)

Here’s the official spiel:

There’s a pretty fixed way of looking at alcohol and drug abuse as a medical and psychological issue. And there’s a fixed culture of drug and alcohol use, which becomes particularly notable at the extremes. In between that space, there’s the reason most people drink and take drugs: Intoxication is actually kind of fun and a significant part of people’s social life. The pub is one of the few designated third spaces – not quite public, not quite private, and drinking together is a major social ritual. Let’s consider how those social rituals work and how they connect to all those articles in the Advertiser on young binge drinking and so forth.

Here is who is speaking – as well as me and Hello Sunday Morning founder Chris Raine:

Panellists: Joseph Borlagdan, Jon Juredeini, Chris Raine, Sam Liebelt and Lisa Dempster, moderated by Jennifer Greer Holmes.

Here are the event details:

Sat 8 Oct, 11.30am, Old Methodist Meeting Hall, 25 Pirie Street, Adelaide, Facebook invite

If you’re free tomorrow and want to chat with some likeminded people about our drinking and sober cultures, feel free to come on down, I’d love to meet you and I’m sure Chris Raine would also!

What sober activities do you have planned for this weekend?

One of the things I’ve started doing again is reading in the evenings. I’ve always been a big reader but in recent years it has been more of a daytime activity, thus I’ve been doing less of it. But in the past few weeks there have been many nights where I’ve come home, made a cup of tea, and sat down and read a whole book. Sure beats being in a pub watching people get drunk.

When I first started my HSM (or maybe even before that), a friend said to me that the easiest way to not think about drinking is by taking up something that you can’t do while drunk. Although sport etc is a great replacement for drinking, it’s often not immediate – i.e. I wouldn’t go for a run at 10pm, and sometimes doing the virtuous ‘oh I’ll not drink now so I can get up early tomorrow and run’ thing doesn’t feel very fun. But reading is hard to do when you’ve had a few, and I can pick up a book at any time.

What sorts of activities have you rediscovered or started doing during your HSM?

In the past few weeks I’ve become really sensitive about being around drunk people.  I’ll be out, at a party or bar, and there’s always a turning point in the night when everyone around me suddenly goes from being interesting and funny to shouty and repetitive. At first during my HSM I barely noticed it, but I’m tired and bored of dealing with drunk people. Now as soon as the night turns from reasonable to drunk, I leave wherever I am. And it’s getting me down.

My nights out are being curtailed early, and I often ride home feeling mad and lonely. Mad, because I usually don’t want to be heading home to spend the rest of the night alone. Lonely, because although I don’t want to be around drunk people, I feel like I’m missing out on some fun. Worse, I feel increasingly  like I don’t fit in with my social groups. It’s a pretty shit situation, and it’s getting me down, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Fact is, drinking is pretty integral to our socialising culture in Australia. I do have friends who stay sober to keep me company, but it’s certainly not the norm. Nor would I ask anyone to not drink. (Friends, there is no judgement here. As you know, until recently I was one of the drunk people!)  And when I do cultural things, like go to art or theatre shows, there is the inevitable trip to the bar before and after.

It’s funny because I was feeling pretty comfortable and awesome about being a not drinker. I thought I would cruise for the rest of my HSM. But suddenly I’m feeling cranky and out of sorts about being around drinkers, and it’s making me feel down and also pretty lonely.

I know that the only way to fix things is to figure out how to cope with drunk socialising (insist that all outings including dancing? I don’t get annoyed with drunk people while dancing), or stop socialising (not appealing), or find new people to hang with (and I can barely keep up with all the people I know now!) Probably the solution will be a combination of those things, but I need to figure out what to do, and I don’t know where to start. Any ideas?

How do you socialise without alcohol?

One of the most common bits of advice is that if I want to learn to drink less in the long term, I shouldn’t be abstaining, I should be learning to drink in moderation. Which is actually ok advice, except that it’s not what I’ve chosen to do.

There is a reason why I chose to abstain from alcohol for a year. Quite a few actually. But this is the pertinent point:

When I’m not drinking at all, I think about booze way less than when I’m trying to drink moderately. Taking it out of the equation altogether makes it less of an issue. This is why I committed to staying dry for a whole year.

Over the past two months I’ve come to realise that abstaining, not attempting moderation, was definitely the right decision for me.

One of the big things about staying sober for a year is that it has given me the time, space and clarity to really think in detail at how alcohol impacts on my life, in both positive and negative ways.

Taking a big chunk of time off has given me the skills to know I can have a great, productive time without drinking. I’m also thinking about how I might want to drink when I finish my HSM. But what I’m getting most out of my period of sobriety are lots of awesome ‘lightbulb’ moments about how and why I drink, that I don’t think I would get if I was attempting to drink in moderation. Space is needed for quality reflections, I think… more on my reflections soon.

Directly after the festival, I went away for the weekend with a crew including some old friends and some of their friends, who I’d never met. We flew to Hobart from our respective homes in Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra and met up for a weekend of art, sightseeing and eating. Right from the go the weekend went boozey, with an amazing dinner at foodie heaven Garagistes. I, of course, abstained.

The weekend that followed was one that previously would have been heaven for me – lots of great food, hanging out, non-stop conversations and drinking throughout the days and well into the nights. This time I did it all without the booze. Yes, it was a challenge, but after four months abstaining I felt ok with saying no to drinks, talking about why I wasn’t drinking, and only felt a slight twinge of ‘missing out’. When late night card games got rowdy I went and curled up with a good book. At restaurants I drank my way through Tasmania’s excellent repertoire of hand-crafted, delicious fizzy drinks. I got buzzed on too much coffee. It was an ace time.

The challenge for me this time has been constant across the past four months – how I self-identify. Drinking has been an enormous part of my life… who am I without it? And how do other people see me?

The first night in Hobart, I dined with two old friends who have known me for years and two people I’ve never met before. As a non-drinking vegan, I ate a seperate meal to their wine- and scotch-heavy, meat-abundant meal. It didn’t bother me, but I wondered – how did these new people see me? Austere? Healthy? Interesting? Weird? Totally freaking boring? I am only just starting to self-identify as a non-drinker, no longer quick to qualify that ‘I’m taking a year off’, but simply saying no thanks when drinks are offered. Later on in the break, they got more context about my year of sobriety. But that first night… what did they think, and how much did I care?

My self-identity as a drinker, partier, wild kinda person is strong, and let’s face it, has always been kind of important to me. Over the past four months I have bristled when people describe me as ‘good’ or ‘sensible’ for refusing to drink. One late night at a bar I said no to a line of tequila shots (that I really, really wanted!) and the people I was with were all like ‘wow – you’re so responsible’! It really got to me. ‘No I’m not,’ I wanted to shout – ‘I’m just as nuts as you are.’ But of course, in that context, I was being responsible. It just didn’t feel like much of a choice at that time. Other times people tell me I’m ‘so healthy, that’s great’ but really, I have given up drinking because I want to be healthy, because my drinking habits were so unhealthy. Semantics? Maybe. But my drinking identity is so strong and valued to me that being seperated from it is bringing up all sorts of uncomfortable questions.

One of the questions I’m facing as a now-non-drinker is, who am I without it? I don’t want to be defined by what I’m not doing (drinking). I think that’s a big part of my problem with alcohol – it’s been a huge part of my identity, not just something I do. I’m starting to realise that physically not-ingesting alcohol might not be the hardest thing I do this year. Rather, looking inwards – and figuring out who I am, who I could be, and who I want to be – might just be the biggest challenge I face this year.

This blog post has been fermenting since I wrapped up the 2011 EWF  weeks ago.

When I committed to a year of sobriety I knew I would face several major challenges – travel, celebrations, and the EWF. How would I get through a Festival sober? And more importantly, why would I want to? I knew in advance that saying no to alcohol over the eleven day party would be very very hard – and I wasn\’t sure if I could do it.

Now, on the other side, I’m pleased to say I did it. It wasn\’t aways easy, but I did it.

In 2010 I drank pretty much every day during the festival, and I drank a lot. I was often among the last people in the bar. As Director it was fabulous to enjoy the festival that I had created, hanging out with writers that I was interested in. But it took its toll – I fell in a heap at the end.

This year, I did the whole fest sober. There were many times that I wanted to drink – opening night, artists’ party, artists’ party after party, closing night etc – but I kept saying no. Each time I said no, I had a little tinge of sadness and regret, but when I woke up the next morning feeling energised and focussed I always felt fantastic. During the festival I work long hours – 7am to midnight usually – and starting the day with a clear head and a good night\’s sleep under my belt made a massive difference to how I was feeling throughout and at the end of the festival. No problem seemed insurmountable and I felt relaxed the whole way through.

The hardest part was the closing night. I had made it through the entire festival sober, and it was just the perfect night for cutting loose, having some champagne and staying out all night dancing. Instead, I drank a lot of coke, had a few cigarettes (gross!), hit the dancefloor sober, and said a reluctant, tired no to the group who kept going once the party ended.

One interesting side effect of leaving parties earlier and sober was that I felt a little more removed from the festival experience – I felt like an organiser, not a participant. But, you know, that is actually my role, and I think I did a better job running things this year than last year, and my alcoholic abstinence played a big role in that.

During the festival I hit the four months sober mark, so I\’m a third into my sober journey. After hitting that milestone and achieving that challenge, I\’m now sure I can make the whole year. But I think there will probably be some more learning along the way…

To be honest, when I started this HSM malarky, I didn’t really believe that I could do it. If pressed, I would have bet against myself reaching the three month mark.

But instead of feeling elated, I felt deflated when I noticed the date.

Six weeks ago I wrote about how I was struggling not to drink, and it remains a challenge. I don’t think about it every day, which is admittedly a huge win, but it can be tough to get through a weekend. Or a celebration (mineral water just isn’t the same as sparkling), or a commisseration (peppermint tea doesn’t quite cut it like red wine), or a holiday – ETC!

I hope things get easier, but when I crossed the three-month mark, my thought was not ‘well done!’ but ‘fuck – nine months to go!’ If the last three months has seemed like forever then this year is surely going to stretch on for eternity…. … … … … … or will it?

One of the hardest things is redefining how I see myself and accepting that others will see me differently. The most common responses when I say I’m not drinking are ‘oh you’re so responsible’ or ‘wow you’ve got so much willpower’ or even ‘I couldn’t do that it’s too much fun’ and I quite often perceive these comments to really mean ‘wow aren’t you boring’. While I accept that you don’t need alcohol to be the life of the party, I often feel excluded by not drinking. As the night rambles on, my threshold for listening to drunk people talking in circles lessens, and increasingly I leave early or don’t go out at all, however, I often end up feeling like I’m missing out.

One of the problems is that once the sun goes down (and sometimes before), it’s suddenly drinking time. The pervasiveness of drinking in Australia is not something I really noticed until I went to Sharjah last year, a dry zone in UAE. It was refreshing to be somewhere where night time activities included visiting galleries, hanging out in tea houses, walking along the promenade, going to the movies – all with zero expectation that alcohol would be involved. When I left the emirate and found myself lunching in a beachside hotel, I really appreciated the beer I ordered, but didn’t miss drinking when I got back to Sharjah. I guess I’m stating the obvious by saying that sobriety would be easier if our culture were less boozey. 

I recognise that if I’m having this much trouble not drinking, it’s a good thing I’m sticking with sobriety. I’m really hoping I can figure out ways to make it easier though (any ideas?) and that it will be worth it once I hit the one-year mark. Only one way to find out…

I’m sleeping really well. I have a lot of energy. Although work is very busy and I’ve taken on a second job (teaching) I am much less stressed than I was at this time last year. I am doing some great workouts. I’m socialising more. I’m enjoying getting up early. I’m discovering more free time…

A few people have said that no one would think less of me if I gave up or quietly had a drink now and then. That’s not really an option for me though. I’ve committed to a year and I’m going to see it through. The last few weeks it’s been really hard to say no to drinks, but I have. I’m in it for the long haul. The fact is I have a problem with drinking that I still haven’t addressed, and I still feel like I need the extended sobriety, even though it’s tough.

The last six weeks have felt like a really long time, as I’ve struggled to stay sober. It blows my mind that I’ve only come six weeks, that I still have so many sober months in front of me. (I’m hoping it gets easier…?)

In a way my project sober reminds me of the Buddhist pilgrimage I did in 2008. I hiked 1200kms on my own in Japan (then wrote a book about it). If I’d truly understood at the beginning how long and difficult the pilgrimage was going to be I probably wouldn’t have started, however, getting through it was a monumental achievement and there is no better feeling than knowing that I did it! I still feel a thrill when I think about it.

I’m hoping that being sober for a year is similar – an epic challenge that has a huge payoff at the end… so I’m going to keep my eye on the prize and remain sober, no matter how hard it might get.

2010 was the year of me trying to get on top of my drinking. It succeeded in a way. I was able to say, aloud, for the first time what I’ve only ever admitted to myself: I have a problem with drinking. I drink too much, I use it as a crutch, and I use it to deal with my emotions, i.e. to numb myself. And yet, when I got a bit sick and depressed over the holidays, I found myself once again self-medicating with booze: drinking every day to try and escape how bad I was feeling. So, although I now drink significantly less than I was even a year ago, it seems the lesson is still not learnt.

So I stopped drinking again. When til? About six weeks would do it, or so I thought.

The first week of not drinking is always the hardest and this time was no exception. I spent the week feeling pretty raw and awful. I cried a lot. I felt like I would never feel good again. I also slept a lot, which was good. From experience, I knew it would pass. But this time, the bad feelings have lingered. Although I am feeling way more positive and ok than I did at the very start of the year, I’m still getting teary a lot. I realised – again, not for the first time – that alcohol really does keep me numb. Take it away and I don’t really have the skills or coping mechanisms to make myself feel good.

I spent January thinking about what I want to look like – emotionally, that is. Who I want to be. And I think it boils down to this: I want to be healthy, I want to be happy, I want adventure, and I want to be financially stable. Pretty simple goals, really. But I’ve never been able to achieve them. And if I’m brutally honest, it’s due in large part to alcohol – expensive, fattening, depressive alcohol.

It’s funny because I started drinking a lot when I got depressed, and now I feel like my depression is entwined with my drinking. I don’t think that giving up drinking is the magic solution, but given that it’s a huge factor in stopping me being what I want to be, how would my life look without it? Really without it. Like for more than a month or six weeks at a time. I think of myself as courageous and adventurous, and yet I have never had the courage to do one thing that scares the shit out of me: not drinking for ages. Doesn’t that speak volumes?

When I think of a life without alcohol, I dismiss it immediately. I think – but what about when I go to festivals? What about when I’m dating? What about when I’m travelling? How will I celebrate if something awesome happens? etc etc. But over the past few weeks I’ve been hearing that voice less and less. I’ve been drinking while travelling, dating, working, writing etc for years now and it hasn’t exactly lead to a great place.So how would my life look without it?

For the past few weeks I’ve been thinking I should go whole hog this time and give up for a year. But I haven’t told anyone that. As soon as I say it aloud, I’ll be accountable. And then I’ll have to do it. And that scares the shit outta me. Who will I be if I don’t drink for such a long time?

A few days ago, on twitter, someone linked me to this amazing video, that you should watch immediately:

It’s a TedX talk by Brene Brown, a vulnerability researcher. It made me cry. It’s about the difference between people who are happy and unhappy. She says that the people who are happy are the people who allow themselves to be vulnerable, who have the courage to be imperfect and take chances. It resonated with me on about a million different levels, but I’ll just talk about what I thought about in relation to my drinking: she says, when we numb our hard and scary feelings, we numb everything. So when I drink to deal, I’m also numbing my ability to be connected, to be happy, and to be joyous. This is probably obvious to everyone in the world but it really struck a chord with me.

Do you see where this is going? I’ve decided to make a leap and stop drinking for a year. Intellectually, I think I will be ok: it’s just a year, after all. (If I’d started a year ago when I did FebFast I would be done by now!) Emotionally, I am scared shitless. But I’m also a bit excited. If I can do this, I know I will be able to call myself truly brave. It’s also about the unknown – who will I be a year from now? Hopefully I will have, or at least be on my way to getting, the things I want for myself: happiness, adventure, health and stability. This is me making myself accountable.

I’ll be blogging here occasionally or you can follow along on twitter. Wish me luck!