Treeline Journal

One Year No Beer Status Update | 10 Months

by Chase Parnell — June 21, 2020


Alright folks, ten months without alcohol. This is easily the longest stretch I’ve gone since I had my first drink 23 years ago! But honestly, a part of me feels like I don’t have a lot more to say about all this. It’s not that complicated, right? Drinking feels good, but it can be bad if you do it too much. But any time you use generalized terms like good and bad, you enter the mire of the subjective. There are very few universal truths in this world, and alcohol being either good or bad, is definitely not one of them. We all have our own interpretations and life experiences, all our opinions are valid, and none are per se right. Maybe you can learn something from me, but maybe you should ignore me entirely. That’s for you to decide.

But first, to add a bit of context, if you’ve been following along with Treeline Journal, you know that I went from drinking everyday in one form or another to making the decision to go a full year without. I viewed this stretch of abstinence as a form of penance for letting my habit metastasize into something I wasn’t necessarily proud of. My entries here have served as effective accountability tools for me, but more importantly I think, they’ve opened up a dialogue. Here are the links to my previous updates if you’d like to see how my thoughts and feelings have morphed over time. There are also many insightful comments from readers.

Alcohol Romanticized

When I feel buried a thousand feet under a mountain of uncertainty, when the needle on my internal compass is spinning a million miles an hour, I find myself looking out into the future, searching for an escape, an idea to grab onto, a place to go, a shift in mindset; anything that will somehow be the fix that restores the ever-elusive sense of peace to life.

What is that thing you latch onto to steady yourself? Where do you allow your mind to take you? Do you dream of escaping to a beach house with a sunroom, where you can snuggle up in that driftwood rocking chair and read the latest Nordic noir? Do you get weepy with joy thinking about bird-watching on long slow walks around mountain lakes and alpine streams? Or maybe you’re like me and your solution feels physical, as if putting something in your body will solve all your problems. Is it alcohol? Is it food? Do you fantasize about a particular restaurant or bakery? Can’t get that bacon wrapped filet mignon out of your head? Or is it simply putting your feet up on the lazy boy on a Sunday with nothing to do but watch four three-hour NFL games in a row? What helps you survive the human experience? What’s your drug of choice?

For me, alcohol became my short-cut to good feelings. Mental pathways were built up and fortified every night I poured a glass. Alcohol equals comfort. Alcohol equals relief.

I have this recurring desire to drink that I’d like to share. It seems harmless enough and yet I know there’s some level of danger there. I envision sitting in a nice comfy chair under a shade tree, on a nice warm bluebird sky day, looking out on a simple backyard garden. It’s probably just after noon on a Saturday, my morning run is behind me and there’s nothing left to do for the day. I’m with Nikki and a few other people who I can share conversation with, but I must know them well so as to maintain the sense of relaxation. I have a bowl of salt and vinegar chips in arms reach, but most importantly, I have a brimming manhattan on my favorite coaster. Whisky, rocks, a dash of vermouth, and a couple green olives on a cocktail stick. The sun would shine through the amber drink and cast a dancing array of lights and shapes and hues across the table. I take my first couple sips, looking out on a beautiful scene, enjoying light conversation with friends or family about sports, childhood or travel, something nostalgic. I can finally breathe and discuss things that matter like when I’m finally going to get that sailboat. As the feel-good sets in and intensifies, I’m delighted by the fact that I get to sit in peace, sip on a couple manhattans, and create an experience that a sober mind can’t replicate. 

Okay, so that’s my little fantasy, my trigger scenario that really makes me want to drink.

Here’s the rub.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. If I decide to jump back into the fray, I don’t know that I’ll be able to get to a place where I’m content with my drinking. My baptist upbringing might have tarnished my ability to ever have a drink without a slight sensation of guilt. Excuse me while I shake my fist at the sky. I’d also be back in that never-ending game of managing intake and the drinker’s lifestyle. Two pints is fine, three is too many. One manhattan is reasonable, two is not. Should I drive or should Nikki? How much money did we spend on alcohol this month? Do my kids know I have a buzz? Etc. Etc. Etc. 

Okay, so damned if I do. What about if I don’t? The prospect of never enjoying a glass of wine with Nikki, or clanking a brew with friends after a weekend long run, or no more manhattans on the lawn sounds a little, well… boring. In some ways it’s sort of like envisioning never making coffee again. You mean I have to wake up and move about my morning hours without that perk? What am I to do if not go immediately to the kettle to boil water for the French press? How dim a future. Why get out of bed at all? 

Everything in Moderation

I apologize because I feel like I’ve said this before, but hashing out this *to drink or not to drink* dilemma always seems to lead me back to the idea of balance. Can’t we agree that if moderation is possible, that it might be the best way? I like cake, but I shouldn’t eat a whole cake. I like alcohol, but I shouldn’t drink until I’ve pissed my bed. I’m fairly sure that after this year-long reset, I’m capable of moderation, but of course, one can never be certain.

I don’t NEED alcohol, but we all do a lot of things we don’t need. Point out the man amongst us who is perfect. So you don’t drink, tell me about the rest of your life. You’ve been sober for a decade. Okay, how do you treat your parents? How’s your diet? How charitable are you with your money? Why do you struggle with food? Who did you vote for? 

At the end of the day, I’m putting this writing out into the world so in some sense I’m asking for judgment and critique and whatnot, but really, I’m not. I’m not prompting you to solve my problem, I’m prompting you to solve yours, whatever that might be, while I solve mine.

I suppose it’s exactly this type of problem-solving that keeps life interesting anyways. I believe we should always be aiming for a better future. I don’t think alcohol is going to make or break my life. I am going to make or break my life. So regardless of whether I drink again or I don’t, I’m not giving my power over to the drink.

I won’t allow my consumption to be the scapegoat for my failures or my abstinence to be my savior and the reason I succeed. Look up, look around, the story is so much greater than that.

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6 thoughts on “One Year No Beer Status Update | 10 Months

  1. I was listening to Brene Brown speaking about sobriety of all kinds. When she was asked why she doesn’t drink, her response was that she is a better abstainer than she is a moderator. I thought that showed an important insight into one’s relationship with alcohol. If you can be a better moderator, then go for it. If, like me, you’re probably a better abstainer, then that should inform your decision.

    1. Don, thanks for sharing. I like how that outlook puts the two options on an equal playing field, without judgment. Each person needs to decide their path based on their own self-knowledge and understanding. I’m leaning towards the moderation route as a lot of times I feel like a trapped animal as an abstainer. Not certain I know which I’m “better” at. I suppose that’ll continue to become more clear over time. No matter what, I’ve learned a lot and I’m glad to have had this year testing out the waters as a full-time abstainer. Thanks again for sharing that!

  2. So much good in here, Chase. Thank you.

    Reading this really hits home on a few levels. “I’m not prompting you to solve my problem, I’m prompting you to solve yours, whatever that might be, while I solve mine.” You are doing just that – giving me the opportunity to think through things and get your perspective on the similar challenges I’m facing.
    This is a reminder that, at the end of the day, I am responsible. My choices over my circumstances, “I am going to make or break my life. ” As the wise Dumbledore told Harry, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
    And finally, “I won’t allow my consumption to be the scapegoat for my failures or my abstinence to be my savior and the reason I succeed.” I couldn’t agree with this more. And I’ve done both. Blamed my genetics and my history and the booze for shameful choices. And held up the fact of short term abstinence as a balance against snarky behavior. “Hey, at least I’m not drinking!” That rings hollow. I need to check my life against my values – a weigh my behaviors against those benchmarks. To drink or not to drink is only one small fact dropping into the hopper of life. If I succeed or fall short, I’ll see the situation clearly and own the consequences.

    Also – the Journal was mentioned in the UltraMarathon Daily today

    1. Hey Anthony, happy to stir some inner dialogue! I was hoping those sentiments would land. Sounds like we are in a similar boat. Love the, “Hey, as least I’m not drinking!” line. That’s really what I was getting at. I thought that if I could quit drinking, I would miraculously become a better person. Attempting to change our character flaws seems a better goal, because really, I haven’t had a drink in 10 months but all my inner struggles and defects are still there. Recently been researching contemplation as a practice to facilitate inner change. I’m in way over my head but it feels good to be moving forward. Thanks for your comments.

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