I am four days “not sober” and, already, I have consumed more units of alcohol than one would be advised to drink over a fortnight.
There’s falling off the wagon (sneaking a ciggie when you’re meant to be quitting) and then there’s launching oneself off head-first (drinking to the point of vomiting profusely in the back of an Uber—oh, and all over the Northern line platform at Stockwell).
Perhaps, after a month of not drinking, it would have been wise to embrace moderation. I should also add that I had never in my years of drinking to excess been sick like that before. It was a shock to me as well as my digestive system. And I apologise to my friends, whom I had abandoned in the club with an Irish goodbye, desperate to escape the crowds for fear I’d be sick on someone other than myself.
As I transition from my early- to mid-twenties, I’m desperately trying and failing to find the middle ground between “going hard or going home”. My latest attempt was an experiment with sobriety for an entire month. “Sober October” is a popular charity challenge for gen-Zers launched in 2014 by Macmillan Cancer Support. Personally, I prefer “Ocsober” to the more mainstream Dry January; it’s a welcome break for my vital organs between “brat summer” and the festive period.
I decided to set a fundraising target of £1,000, which I would donate to the Survivors Trust—a UK charity that supports all survivors of sexual violence, regardless of age or gender. I had a month between tenancies in London, so I decided to go back to my mum’s house in Matlock to attempt the challenge.
I’ll be honest, I’d hadn’t gone a full month without drinking since I turned 18. When I admitted to this, some of my friends scoffed. Plenty of people my age have completed Dry January or even just taken a few weeks off the booze. In fact, my generation is often criticised for our caution, for our apparent inability to embrace the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle that you’re expected to lead in your twenties.
Sober curiosity—a tentative step into the world of abstinence—has become an increasingly popular lifestyle choice, with my generation leading the charge. Frequent readers of this column will know that much of my social life revolves around drinking. I live for the pub and am never usually one for turning down the offer of “just one last round”.
So, I was surprised by how easy I found my month off the booze. I expected to be climbing the walls, itching for a pint, salivating at the very sight of my mum’s Friday night Sauvignon Blanc. Granted, any alcohol “withdrawals” I might have experienced were completely over-shadowed by my very real nicotine withdrawal.
I’d punt myself as more of a “drinker” than a “smoker” and saw my temporary nicotine-cessation as a mere add-on to my sobriety. By my logic, if I wasn’t drinking then I wouldn’t be tempted to smoke or buy a vape, so this— and the country air—was a good excuse to give my lungs a much-needed break.
Sadly, my withdrawals from fruit-flavoured nicotine-vaporisers (pathetic, I know) overrode the benefits I was hoping to feel by abstaining from “casually” drinking three-to-five pints on a weeknight. The insomnia for the first week was a killer. I was as irritable as I was at 15, and I even noticed I was more out-of-breath than usual (though that could have as much to do with the fact my mum’s house is 100m uphill from the centre of town). My brain was foggy—in fact, it still is foggy. The idea that the pre-frontal cortex finishes developing at 25 is a myth, in my experience.
Several days after my big night out, and still in the throes of my hangover, I am feeling—dare I say it—just a little sober curious. But, the question remains, will I be able to sustain a period of abstinence without the accountability of fundraising?
If it weren’t for my charitable mission, I highly doubt I’d have made the full month. My willpower is fragile and impulsivity reigns supreme.
But after concluding my last night out with scenes that loosely resembled The Exorcist, I would definitely like to master the art of restraint. Please, please, someone, somewhere: show me how to enjoy things in moderation.
Who knows, I may even take on Dry January as well…
