After the birth of my daughter, I began to notice that alcohol started to have an adverse effect on me. While I had never been a heavy drinker, I participated in social drinking during college and afterward, enjoying it in moderation. However, during my pregnancy, I completely abstained from alcohol. When I resumed having an occasional glass of wine or beer post-baby, I discovered I had developed a very low tolerance. Just half a glass would leave me feeling unwell.
Alcohol impacts me differently than it does for many. Instead of experiencing the jovial uplift that it brings to others, I found myself becoming argumentative. My natural inclination to debate—something I honed in law school—was magnified by a drink or two, making social interactions quite uncomfortable. Additionally, alcohol lowered my discretion, leading me to say things I normally wouldn’t, often gossiping more than I intended.
The most disheartening realization came the next day when I would wake up feeling anxious and remorseful, questioning whether I had been as obnoxious as I feared. After those initial effects wore off, I would succumb to overwhelming fatigue, often unable to keep my eyes open. These reactions were particularly pronounced in social situations where I wasn’t surrounded by close friends, making it even more crucial for me to engage positively and politely.
As I reflected on these uncomfortable feelings, I realized that the enjoyment I was supposed to derive from drinking was overshadowed by the negative consequences. I couldn’t appreciate the nuances of quality wines, and I had always resented the calories they added—calories I would rather indulge in through dessert.
Eventually, it became clear to me: this wasn’t a joyful experience. While drinking seemed to bring others happiness, I found it did not serve me well. I preferred to forgo alcohol entirely, eliminating the regret and saving calories for treats I genuinely enjoy.
It’s worth noting that my decision to reduce my alcohol intake came after considerable time spent grappling with the realization that it wasn’t fun for me. I could’ve chosen to increase my drinking to build tolerance and possibly improve my behavior, but for me, it was simpler to just avoid it altogether. Occasionally, I still enjoy a glass of wine or some champagne during celebrations, but I’ve recognized that excessive drinking just doesn’t suit me.
At times, I feel a pang of regret about not drinking more, wondering if I’m missing out on the joy others experience. But then I remind myself: it’s simply not enjoyable for me. The most intriguing aspect of my journey was how long it took me to recognize this truth about myself. Why is it so challenging to acknowledge what seems like an obvious fact about one’s own preferences?
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In summary, my journey to stop drinking was about recognizing what truly brings me joy. By understanding that alcohol was not the source of fun for me, I found clarity and happiness. I now enjoy social situations without the burden of regret, feeling revitalized and in control.