Rewriting Our Mental Scripts

reports from Dry(ish) January

Nobody drank this wine, so it gave up and went for a melancholy stroll. Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

It may sound strange, but I never thought about my alcohol consumption until I was in my mid-twenties, when I finally realized that my mom was an alcoholic. (Denial is, as they say, a hell of a drug. So much of what we learn from our parents we learn to see, for better or worse, as “normal.”) Upon this realization, my own drinking transformed from innocuous to ominous—was that glass of wine with dinner the start of the slippery slope to addiction? If I abstained, was that akin to admitting I, too, had a problem? Then again, why should I deny myself something I enjoyed because of my mother’s issues? Every choice seemed fraught. Stress-Googling revealed that substance use disorder has a heritability rate estimated between 40-70%—not great odds!

Rationally, I knew my mother’s problems are different from my own. Still, there was a voice in my head warning me that craving a drink at the end of the day was dangerous. After a holiday season flowing with champagne, mulled wine, and espresso martinis, Dry January felt like a good space to reevaluate and, hopefully, get into a better mental space regarding my drinking choices. So, on this last day of January here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Don’t Expect Huge Changes. Alcohol Change UK touted the many health benefits of Dry January: my skin would glow, my sleep would be better, my internal organs would be dancing the cha cha in my thorax. And? Not much changed! Turns out I can’t chalk up my crappy sleep and occasional skin redness to alcohol! Neither did I lose any weight. (However I was heartened to see studies showing that participating in Dry January is associated with better long-term health.)

2. Disenchantment Beats Willpower. While we tend to think of quitting bad habits as a triumph of the will, it turns out this is a poor long-term strategy. Willpower is exhaustible, it’s often the first thing to go when we’re stressed. Instead of relying on it, we can use mindfulness to observe habits and ask ourselves, “What am I getting out of this? And is this drink as stress relieving/fun/delicious as I imagined?” Generally, the answer is no. We can notice disenchantment and work towards building other strategies to get our needs met.

   My willpower broke down on a ski weekend away with friends. Nobody was even peer pressuring me, I was just annoyed that my friends were enjoying beer apres-ski and I couldn’t. (And by “couldn’t,” I mean I had decided this for myself and then pouted like I was being punished.) Basically, I was having an inner child temper tantrum. So I had a beer. And it was…fine. Not magical, not an instant good time, just, ya know, a can of Rainier. I was disenchanted. Which brings me to…

3. Substitutions are Key. When I employed disenchantment, I realized what I was missing was an “end of day” ritual. Outside of Dry January, I often have a glass of wine and some chocolate once the kids are in bed and the kitchen is clean. It wasn’t just the booze I was missing, it was the sense of a reward after all the work was done. I experimented with mocktails, but they are all EXTREMELY high in sugar, which I’m also trying to avoid for health reasons. After some searching, I found some low-sugar kombucha and prebiotic sodas at Costco that could serve as a special “end of day” drink. I even put them in a fancy glass. I still missed wine, but it was nice to have this ritual.

4. It’s OK to Need Things. As an eldest daughter, I like to imagine myself able to do everything without any outside help. Admitting I have needs is basically admitting defeat. And while I don’t need a drink, I do need time and space to relax. And, just maybe, craving a drink is a sign I’m working too hard and my body needs rest.

5. Being Low-Sugar and Alcohol-Free Doesn’t Mean I’m Uptight. When I got mindful and curious, this was the criticism that bounced around in my head most: “Wow, first you can’t have ice cream every day and now you can’t even have a glass of wine? You sound like a lot of fun!” Guess where this voice comes from?

If you guessed “childhood emotional baggage” give yourself a pat on the back. (Or is that just a gimme if you’ve been reading this Substack long enough?) Dry January forced me to reckon with how much I’ve internalized my mom’s attitudes towards overindulgence. But I don’t need to prove my chill-ness to anyone. My new mantra? “Freedom is fun.” Do I believe it? Eh, it’s a work in progress.

While I doubt my overthinking is cured, I am grateful for the things I’ve learned this month. I plan to keep working towards mindfulness moving forward. I’m also going to schedule in the occasional fast in order to work on self-discipline and, as Richard Rohr says, “de-centralizing” myself. And I will be enjoying a glass of wine once February 1st rolls around.

Are there any mental scripts you’re working to change? Have you tried using “disenchantment” to change your habits? Do you have any favorite low-sugar fancy drinks? Share in the comments!

BONUS MATERIALS:

• a short piece about “de-centralizing the self” by fasting from Father Richard Rohr

• On fasting from “retail therapy”: “God helps us see this capitalist system for what it is: one fueling demoralizing cycles of hyper-consumption that distracts us from deeper encounters with ourselves, our neighbors, and God — the beloved community. Here we recognize the need to “fast” from retail frenzy.”