It’s coming up to two years since I decided to break up with booze. I remember my last drink very clearly. I was in Apollo Bay, in the Otways in Victoria. Staying at the hostel together with neighbours, old friends, and new friends. We were there for a big birthday bash where the whole hostel was booked out just for us. I hope to do the same next year, but that’s for another blog post, I think.
Anyway.
Tomorrow marks the 700th day since I stopped drinking, and I feel like reflecting on, and documenting, it somehow so I don’t forget what it’s been like.
The first thing that struck me first about the cold turkey, was that it was easy. I think because I was ready, emotionally, to cut alcohol out of my life, it wasn’t difficult. I wondered if I would have any physical withdrawals, and I worried I would. Fortunately I didn’t.
I avoided drinking situations early on, because I was worried I would be tempted to “just have one”. I, honestly, don’t think I had a drinking problem when I stopped, and it wasn’t why I decided to give it all up. I struggle with moderation. My attitude is (or was, more accurately) that everything should be taken in moderation, even moderation. So sometimes I’d go overboard. And then the anxiety with a dose of self loathing would set in the next day. I knew that cold turkey would be the way to go.
Then I started to put myself into drinking situations. Go to the pub. Hang out with my most boozehoundy friends. Just to make sure I could. And I could. It was easy, even.
My most boozehoundy friends thought it was boring that I didn’t drink. Or thought it was “extreme”. I initially thought that they were threatened by my decision, but I think in the end I think I’ve settled on that suddenly the friendship changed, because we couldn’t do the same thing we’ve done since high school together any more. But in the end, this was what I needed, and I feel good for having done it.
I feel better for not drinking. There’s no doubt about it. Emotionally, and physically.
My cardiologist thinks it’s highly unfair that I stopped drinking 2 years ago and 6 months after that had an issue with my heart, that is usually caused by drinking. It’s annoying that I developed this heart thing, but that it happened even though I’d stopped drinking doesn’t bother me. I assume it would have been much worse had I still been drinking, so, I see it as a win.
I love not having hangovers. They’re the pits and I’m super pleased I don’t have them any more. Even that dusty feeling after drinking even sensibly.
I haven’t lost weight. I hoped I would. But I must have replaced the calories with something else. Oh well.
For a while I missed the idea that you would have a few drinks to let your hair down. To relax. Unwind. Suppress those inhibitions. But since then I’ve found other ways to relax and unwind, and I quickly realised that I’m comfortable enough in myself to not need a social lubricant.
I miss the experience of trying new beers and wines. And talking to people about them.
I like that my actions are mine. At all times. Even the worse decisions.
Would I recommend cutting booze out of your life? Yes, if you think you should. Then absolutely give it a go. Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t. Society puts some weird pressure on us about alcohol. That you gave quitting a go is an achievement in itself.
I wish I could cold turkey some other things in life. I need to figure out what the exact trigger was for alcohol and see if I can apply them to something else. Like sugar.
Thanks for reading. This is a bit more rambly than I initially expected, but that’s ok. I think I’ve managed to convey what I wanted.
With the Fringe starting in Adelaide again, I decided to try my hand at some Street Portraits. I approach a random stranger, and ask if I can take their portrait. Simple, really.
I decided I wanted a way for people to be able to find their photos, so designed this little TLR and Instagram business card, matching the type of camera I use for the portraits.
The cards turned up today, and I’m so pleased with them!
I was devastated when I realised that my Unit has a crack in the drive-side rear dropout. I was at the beach when it was spotted. I called half a dozen or so frame builders and welders, and so far only one has been willing to have a proper look at it, inside of 5-6 months, and even they aren’t ready to go for a few more weeks.
I didn’t realise how attached I was to this bike. We’ve had some amazing adventures, and I was planning many more.
Some photos of the broken bike below. I’m hoping I can get some photos of the repaired bike soon. And I need to figure out what colour to paint it.
I’ve reached D-1. Most people omit half of the answer to the question “how many bikes do I need?”, only saying that you need N+1 bikes, where N is the number of bikes you currently have. But the full answer is that you need N+1 bikes until N = D-1 where D is the number of bikes that will cause a divorce, or some other similar upheaval of your life. Anyway. I’m there. We don’t really have room for more bikes, and even though I buying a touring bike would be great, it’s not a good idea. I don’t need it.
I have a gorgeous 2008 Kona Unit 2-9. A rigid, single-speed mountain bike. I love it. I love the suppleness of the steel frame, and riding single-speed is good for the soul. Maybe. I figured that turning this bike into a tourer rather than the commuter I’ve got it set up to be at the moment would be a good way of not crossing into the dangerous N=D territory. It also won’t prevent the bike from being a commuter anyway.
This transformation will take place over a few stages. The first two stages have already happened. On-fork storage, and new handlebars with a few more hand-position options and carrying capacity.
The 2-9 comes with a suspension corrected Project 2 fork. A lovely, simple fork with a straight 1-1/8″ steerer. Simple. Perfect, apart from not having any cage mounts. Local legend Peter Good – wielder of the oxy flame, conjurer of gorgeous brazed fillets – to the rescue. It wasn’t expensive. It didn’t take long. I got a pair of forks back that looked like this:
With some patience, sand paper, and rattle cans, I ended up with a pair of forks in gorgeous barbie pink.
With racks mounted, it ended up looking like this:
Perfect.
The next stage is new bars, and I settled on some Surly Moloko bars as being the right ones for me. Good sweep, and plenty of space. I did my first bar-tape job, and I’m pretty happy with how it all turned out.
The next step is a frame bag, and some sort of seat-post bag. Then I’m ready to go touring!
Leave me a comment if you have opinions on what else I should add to make this even better!
I really enjoyed the book, but I don’t think I understood what was going on while I was reading it, and probably not after I finished it either. But maybe now, a few weeks after, is it starting to congeal into something resembling an “aah…so that’s what was going on!”. Maybe. Probably not.
John’s (because we’re on first-name terms, obviously) writing style feels familiar, and there are several sentences in the book that wouldn’t be out of place slotted into a Mountain Goats song somewhere. This familiarity, though, lulled me into thinking that it would be a linear, and probably obvious, story that made sense. I was expecting more horror. I was expecting to be messed with more, psychologically. I didn’t expect to time-travel (not that the book is about time-travel) between generations, and across the country quite like it did.
I was confused for a lot of it once it moved away from the first story arc of the spliced in footage on the rental cassettes. But the writing style kept me reading, and I’m glad I persisted with it, even if I didn’t understand what was going on.
I reckon it’s a two or three star book. Same writing style with a story I understood and it would be a 4.5-er. I’m not blaming the author for me not understanding it, I should add.
