There’s no better time to try and quit booze than in January. Following weeks of festive over-indulgence, at least some of the people around you are also likely to be thinking about cutting down. Requesting a lime and soda rather than your usual gin and tonic when someone gets a round often elicits an understanding nod. “Dry January, is it?” The best option in this scenario is to simply smile in agreement. The alternative, as I learned the hard way, is awkwardly attempting to explain why you’re hoping to make it a permanent thing, as your conversational partner decides whether to feel pitying or judged.
Perhaps we should be encouraged to talk about the issue more openly. As things are, though, telling people on a boozy night out that you think you were developing an unhealthy relationship with alcohol tends to go down like a lead balloon. Though it never became the kind of dependency that requires professional intervention, over the past year or so I found myself relying on booze to lift my mood. The combination of Brexit, Trump, Labour politics and personal issues left me feeling hopeless and depressed. I began to fixate on the issue of climate change and the details of a potential future apocalypse. Only when I had a few drinks inside me did I feel capable of switching off.
Over Christmas I came down with flu and spent a couple of weeks laid up in bed. I realised that increased drinking probably hadn’t left me in peak physical condition, and by the time I felt well again I was determined to keep it that way. The idea of risking a hangover filled me with dread. I also figured out that my political despair was exacerbated because I also felt I’d lost control over my own life, and that alcohol was part of the problem. It was a vicious circle I was determined to break and new year seemed like an obvious time to start.
I quickly stopped trying to explain my reasoning to enquiring acquaintances. The popularity of dry January has definitely made it easier to decline booze without awkwardness, but there have been a couple of incidents where I’ve had to stand my ground. It doesn’t help that so many of my friends are relatively heavy drinkers – nor that they’re used to me being the first to suggest a round of shots or a third bottle of wine.
I’ve discovered that the best option is to be proactive. If I’m going somewhere where people are drinking, I’ll mentally prepare for being pressured to participate and think about how to avoid temptation. It’s only been a couple of weeks so far, but I’ve found a few tactics that might be helpful for others:
1. Make sure you’ve always got a (soft) drink in your hand
This is simple but effective. It’s not just because of the alcohol that drinking works as a social lubricant – taking a sip is also an effective way to fill any awkward gaps in conversation, and going to the bar provides a handy exit strategy if you’re feeling trapped. Holding a drink also gives you something to do with your hands, which is more useful than I’d previously appreciated. What’s more, when someone’s getting a round in you can simply to point to your almost full glass. No awkward explanation required.
2. Realise you can still have fun
At the age of 26 I’ve made a miraculous discovery: I don’t actually have to be drunk to dance in public. When everyone around you is feeling happy and unselfconscious, it’s surprisingly easy to catch their good mood. (Especially when you remember that you’re the only one who’s not going to wake up with a headache.) If you’re heading to an event where people will be drinking, go with the expectation that you’ll enjoy yourself. Otherwise, what’s the point?
3. If you’re not going to have fun, don’t bother going out
If you’re feeling tired, anxious or stressed, step two might not work. Sometimes I’m just not in the mood to socialise. My previous approach to this situation involved quickly downing a couple of drinks in an attempt to get in the mood, but I’ve realised I’m far better off making my excuses and curling up at home with Netflix and a takeaway. If you get somewhere and realise you’re not feeling it, it’s fine to prioritise your own wellbeing and slip off early.
4. Find social activities that don’t involve drinking
If, like me, your social life tends to mainly revolve around the pub, consider having a go at something else. Your friends might drag their feet a little, but if you’re prepared to do most of the organising, most people can be roped in. Art galleries and museums, the cinema, rollerskating, bowling – going out for food also makes alcohol less of a focus. Along with a couple of female friends, I’ve started regularly visiting the local Turkish baths.
5. Come up with alternative ways to reward yourself
Overexcited by various “new year, new you” guides, I originally considered cutting out sugar at the same time as quitting alcohol. This was a terrible idea. Whenever I had a difficult day and wanted to treat myself for getting through it, my usual solution was to reach for the bottle. Failing that, I’d opt for a bar of chocolate or a slice of cake. If I tried to drop both at once I’d be setting myself up to fail. Whether it’s sugar, video games or watching Ryan Gosling films, it helps to find alternate ways to give yourself a dopamine hit.
