Liquid Courage
The evolution of a habit and journey from the unconscious, to conscious.
“Sometimes the peaceful choice isn’t always comfortable.” ~ Mynx InatsuguPer usual, as I sat in Philosophy class and listened to my teacher, I quickly jotted down these words in my worn, yellow leather journal. A class, a group of women I have been part of for close to 4 years. We meet each week to review and discuss the theory and practice of the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali, Philosophy, and Tradition of Yoga. Our teacher provides guidance, tools, and practices that we can put to practical, daily use. For weeks to come, I would repeat these words. I couldn’t quite grasp the correlation, “wouldn’t the peaceful choice be one of comfort?”Then, one day, it clicked.
A little over a year ago I made a silent vow, a promise to limit my consumption of alcohol. Herein is my journey from what was once unconscious, to a bold, conscious, and uncomfortable choice. One that did not shy away from struggle, fight, or consequence. A behavior once engaged to evoke a certain level of comfort, only to promote unrest and distrust. The evolution of a habit turned conscious, and now one of peace and happiness.
My decision to limit (and almost remove) alcohol has many layers and motives; physical health and mental well-being, harmony, and support of a more spiritual and creative life. But, for the sake of this post, it was my curiosity around my relationship with the substance that piqued my interest. This longing for self-knowledge, like a well-worn pair of hiking boots, was my cheerleader to hold steady and strong as I ventured into new and uncharted territory. It was the foundation to my accountability and promise when I wanted to say “no” and searched for the courage to say “yes.”
My dependence thick and habits forceful, I learned to expose inner truths and demons, and rest in awkwardness. Who was I in a social setting without a drink, and could I find other means of connecting with people for whom decades alcohol was part of the gathering?
In a time when I seek clarity and ease, how does alcohol support this goal? Truth, it doesn’t. Ironically, I once believed it did. Through decades of witnessing my behavior in this relationship, the hard reality is it never supported ease and clarity or praised my higher self. I was anxious, messy, and ridden with shame; with motives never clear or conscious.
My reliance in a social setting strong, a habit and craving quickly learned and reinforced at the ripe young age of 14. The cool thing to do and perfect tonic to crack open my shy character. Innocent and naïve, alcohol added a bit of spice, rebel, and thrill. Dependence adapted over decades, influences reliant on where and who I was with.
Recently, I dug into the past and read diary entries from my mid to late teens. Before my eyes were pages filled with memories of parties and alcohol abuse. I binged to find the nerve to kiss a boy, to be sociable, confident, and approved of by friends and others. A young girl desperate for love and attention, screaming to be seen. I found courage in the cocktail. A theme started young and supported into my late 30’s.
Unlike a trusted friend, booze rarely brought out the best. The tasty and tempting beverage had a direct correlation on my mood. Contingent on my state of mind, my personality and actions shifted. There was happy, fun-loving, ready for a good time Dina, or hysterical Dina, where out of nowhere, laughter and fun turned to tears, trauma and agony. My shadow, the darker side, the defensive, obsessive, angry one who would argue, and yell was the one that held most shame and disappointment. I insisted and fought for car keys and drove intoxicated. Instead of receiving loving and sweet messages and phone calls, I obsessively drunk dialed current or ex-lovers and drove by their house.
A cocktail or more at a party, wedding, celebration or night out on the town held an elusive appeal. Like a torrid ex-boyfriend, I went back time and time again. Despite the abuse and heartache, the lashing out, arguments, and miscommunication, the repeated one-night stands, massive hangovers, and morning-after regrets. The more I drank, the more determined the destruction.
Alcohol was the veil that would cover my truth, authentic self and ability to trust.
“Once we belong thoroughly to ourselves and believe thoroughly in ourselves, true belonging is ours. Belonging to ourselves means being called to stand alone. To brave the wilderness of uncertainty, vulnerability, and criticism.”Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone, Brené Brown.
Making the conscious decision to not drink was not easy. There would be no more distractions. I stood alone and walked into the party empty-handed. Exposed, I stood in the raw and vulnerable truth once disguised and held grace in my discomfort. This was me, take it or leave it. The decision did not come without consequence; responses included, “you’re not fun anymore” and promoted an eye-roll of dissatisfaction on occasion. It was as uncomfortable and unfamiliar for my audience, as it was for me. Often asked why, and for reasons, I didn’t want to get into over the dinner table, the urge to say “yes” more appealing than the uncertainty of “no.” It was in my ability to stay the course and not seek avoidance which had posed the biggest challenge. I was now sober out at sea; how would I have fun and fit in?
My biggest test to date--an annual weekend away with three of my closest friends. Both time and women, I am deeply grateful. A condition that when we got together, I used to familiarize myself with the perpetual intake of cocktail after cocktail. The picture shown here below signifies happiness, freedom, and confidence. I danced, laughed, sang out loud and joked. I was completely sober. The amount of booze intake low between everyone, and the kicker, we all walked away saying it was our best weekend yet.
Through the course of this past year, I learned what it takes to stay faithful and accountable to a promise. To choose courage over comfort. The benefits of staying loyal and consistent, and the determination and strength it builds. I have learned to trust and believe in myself. I have the capability to follow-thru on intention and show-up. Alcohol, though at first glance seemed a wise tool to bond, only built a barrier between an authentic connection with Self and others.I am still uncovering the lessons and learning who I am without. I have created a new pattern and habit. I no longer desire a cocktail and the thought of numbing out no longer appeals. The more I say no, I strengthen my yes. Once thought a lie, speaks truth: I am lovable and fun, happy and free, adventurous, confident, clear and content. I am present, aware, and conscious. When discomfort comes to sit, I greet it with a friendly hello, because I have come to realize that discomfort is not my enemy, but my greatest ally and not something to avoid or shy away.
Alcohol served a purpose – if nothing else to teach. To heal. I do not judge the drink, my time when I did, others, or even when I choose to partake. For now, I am clear on my motives and options. I understand the benefits and outcomes should I participate.
Saying “yes” to my vow was the peaceful choice, with comfort at times a fickle companion.