Treeline Journal

One Year No Beer Status Update | 8 Months

by Chase Parnell — April 21, 2020


If you haven’t been following along, on August 17, 2019 I committed to a full year of stone-cold sober living. No beer, no wine, no whiskey — nothing. I did this not because I was/am a raging alcoholic or anything, but because I knew it was getting in the way of experiencing my best life. Where might I go if I could remove this stumbling block for an entire year? Would my life be drastically different? Was alcohol the thing that was holding me back? These sorts or questions were the motivating factors that helped me take the leap. If you’re interested in the progression, feel free to jump back to my prior updates: 2 Months, 4 Months, 6 Months

First of all, don’t mind if I take a second to pat myself on the back for another two months of whatever this is I’m doing. Purposefully abstaining from anything for this length of time is difficult no matter how you slice it, especially if it’s something that had become engrained and ritualized in your life. For those hardcore coffee addicts out there, your population might be the closest correlation; can you imagine going a year without that illuminating morning buzz? Or you sweet-toothers, no post-dinner brownie/ice cream/junkie cereal/candy for a year. And then tie in the fact that alcohol undoubtably has a stronger addictive quality than most habits; you can imagine the difficulty when viewed objectively. It’s been an interesting exercise, one I’d recommend trying if only to experience the mental combat that will inevitably ensue. Dry months are common, but a year is something altogether different.

Questions to consider: are you actually in control of yourself? Have you ever tried to stop for long enough to know? Where does your mind go when it becomes difficult? I think a lot of  people think they could take it or leave it anytime “if they wanted to” but, shocker, they never want to try so they don’t actually know. 

I still don’t know with certainty if I’ll drink again after the year is done. But no matter what, proving to myself that I could stop for this length of time, make a decision and stick with it, has been confidence-boosting if nothing else. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; I’m not out of the woods yet. Four months is a long time to go. 

Addiction as a Theory

Addiction is a word with a lot of baggage. It’s stigmatized and associated mostly with our back-alley friends, people who suffer from a terrible “disease” that have lost all grasp of healthy living. I view addiction as a spectrum and we’re all on it. We each struggle with our own personal addictions and they tend to get stronger and stronger the longer we allow their talons to sink into us. Alcohol, gaming, nicotine, overeating, pornography, excessive shopping, lying, sugar, sex, marijuana, gossip, Netflix, hard drugs, gambling — you name it, the list of serotonin inducers goes on and on. I read a compassionate book called In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts by Dr. Gabor Maté, who works with inner city homeless and addict populations on the streets of Vancouver, British Columbia.

Maté writes, “Addiction is not a choice that anybody makes; it’s not a moral failure; it’s not an ethical lapse; it’s not a weakness of character; it’s not a failure of will, which is how our society depicts addiction. Nor is it an inherited brain disease, which is how our medical tendency is to see it. What it actually is: it’s a response to human suffering, and all these people that I worked with had been serially traumatized as children. All the women had been sexually abused. All the men had been traumatized, some of them sexually, physically, emotionally neglected. And not only is that my perspective, it’s also what the scientific and research literature show. So addiction then, rather than being a disease as such or a human choice, it’s an attempt to escape suffering temporarily.” I completely agree with his take on addiction, my only addition is that I think trauma can take many forms and it can originate and induce addiction at any time in one’s life — not just childhood. Maté works with the most extreme addicts, the one’s with the greatest trauma and human suffering; that’s how they ended up on the streets. They simply could not deal with the horrors, self-imposed or not.

Human suffering can be as life-shattering as sexual abuse or as mild as a general sense of sadness. Maybe you can’t get the narrative loop out of your head that you’re a failure, that you don’t deserve to be happy, or that you don’t like your appearance or certain characteristics of your personality. Or maybe you’re wildly successful, everything you touch turns to gold, but still, you feel alone, you are still unsatisfied with each new achievement because there’s always the next one; there’s always someone higher on the ladder. And so we drink, we eat, we consume, we cope any way we can; we look to those soothing salves to cover and dampen the symptoms of human suffering that we all experience. 

Even Dr. Maté himself struggled with addiction. He couldn’t stop buying classical music. He absolutely needed to have every new album. He describes in his book how he’d binge-buy thousands and thousands of dollars worth at a time. He was a junkie, the record store always sweetly calling his name, luring him in. He was out of control and his finances and marriage suffered for it. 

What I’m Thinking, Where I’m Headed

So how am I doing as I confront my own personal alcohol addiction? Well, I’m still not drinking, but I’ve definitely been waffling mentally. I know I want to drink less than I did, but I don’t know for sure that I want to go the rest of my life without it. This might sound paradoxical, but I don’t know if I want to give it that mental power over me or define my wellness by it. Listen, we are flawed humans with limited bandwidth. Some people I suppose have incredible self-control and can simply choose to rid themselves of all deleterious vices. If I could, and it feels weird to admit that I can’t, but why don’t I just cut out all animal products, all processed sugar, and all caffeine while I’m at it? And why not throw in Netflix and social media too? Where do I draw the line? How much pressure should we apply to rid ourselves of that which doesn’t serve us? 

After eight months of abstaining from alcohol, I’m probably a healthier human although I’ve definitely replaced alcohol with sweets. I know I’m more productive with my time in some ways. I read more. I might be a little more present with my kids in the later evening hours. But I can’t say I have this new found zest for life, this sense of joy or freedom like they promise in a lot of the self-helpy books. I still have the same insecurities, I’m still a head case in a lot of ways, and I haven’t exactly been crushing at life like I wondered if I would prior to stopping drinking. I have this little game playing in my head where I tell myself that if my life isn’t markedly better after one year without alcohol, then maybe I’ll just start drinking again. If total sobriety doesn’t “pay off” in a big way, then why be so strict about it?

If you’re thinking that this doesn’t sound like the Chase from prior writings, you’re probably right. This is a roller coaster ride. I know full-well that I’m starting to craft arguments for why I can have the occasional glass of wine or beer when this year is over. I’ve been joking around more with Nikki, saying things out of the blue like, “can you go grab me a beer?”, that have resulted in lots of are you serious double-takes. I’ve been lightening the mood around alcohol.

Getting to the Root of the Problem

Think about people who struggle with their weight. You know they get it in their minds that if they can somehow lose those 20 pounds, then they’ll be so content and happy and all their depression, self-loathing, and fat-pinching will finally stop. I don’t think it does. Sure, they’ll be healthier, they’ll probably like their appearance more, but that same voice that lives within each of us will still be there. Once the weight is gone, it will dawn on them that maybe they don’t actually like their nose or the length of their legs or the way their hair seems to be thinning. So was it the calorie restrictions they should’ve been addressing or the internal work to see themselves more positively? Probably both, but I’m thinking the latter is the greater need. And the former (abstaining from alcohol in my case) without the latter (healing the inner self) might lead absolutely nowhere.

The root issue is that life can be hard, we’ve experienced trauma and circumstances in our lives that draw us to escapism, and we use a variety of substances and tools to dim our suffering and fill the void. Admittedly, these tools are cheats — shortcuts. Going for a run, meditating, or calling a friend are all examples of healthier alternatives, but again, who among us is perfect? My tool was the sense of pleasure and relaxation alcohol provides. Does it dull my senses? Yes. Is it an unhealthy escape from reality? Quite probably, yes. Do the costs outweigh the benefits? Almost certainly. Do I still want to drink? Absolutely. Will I? I don’t know.

We are all on our own paths. I’m not trying to be an advocate for an alcohol-free life, nor am I wanting to enable those on the edge to drink if they have a real problem. I would, however, encourage you to explore your suffering. What are those narratives on repeat in your mind and how can you alter them to better serve you? It’s okay to read and seek counsel from other people, but never substitute what works for others as something that will work for you. If you want lasting change, you must do the work yourself, ask the tough questions, scrape below your surface.

I have a wonderful life, an incredible family, a beautiful wife, amazing kids, a passion for reading, learning, running, and writing, but I fully admit that I live with a sense of emptiness that runs in parallel with those good things. I don’t know if that emptiness is stronger or weaker than anyone else’s, but it’s there, and I believe it’s in all of us — it just manifests itself differently based on our own personal trauma, life experiences, and which tools best ease our suffering. Over time, I’d like to figure out how to fill that space so that I can more clearly focus on all the good in my life and not be weighed down by the bad. I don’t think that alcohol or a life sans alcohol will make me whole, running or professional success won’t do it either, my family and friends can’t fill the void; it’s up to me –to us– to seek and discover what lies beneath, listen to the voice that’s true, heal and strengthen what we can, be kind to ourselves and others, and set a course for a better future.


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10 thoughts on “One Year No Beer Status Update | 8 Months

  1. Hey Chase! Your old friend here. You may seriously want to consider reading the “Big Book” Alcoholics Anonymous and discover for yourself if there is a solution in there for you. You say you still feel like you have an “emptiness” and may be lacking in a “zest for life” and “joy and freedom….”. There may be a solution for you in the Big Book, maybe not…that’s up to you to decide. I wish you all the best no matter what path you choose. If you need a Big Book, I’d be glad to send you one.

    1. Hey Christian, good to hear from you! I see there’s an online version so I might give it a read just to know more about the approach. While I don’t identify as an alcoholic, I’m sure there are truths to glean from it just as there are in many religious texts. I’m glad you and others have found such success with AA. If I give it a serious read, I’ll let you know what I think. Keep up all the good work! -Chase

  2. I’m currently finishing writing something that draws on the themes of curiosity and thoughtfulness, and I see those are huge in your life by wondering about the ‘shape’ of giving up alcohol. I like how you said addictions exist on a spectrum, and I wonder what the complete removal of addictions means for a person long-term. I’ve been on a road of systematically removing them in my life, starting with alcohol, animal products, and sugar. Been clean on all of those for over a year, though sugar is not as black and white as the others. If something is acknowledged as harmful (like alcohol for you), why keep participating? …but then there’s the question of how far do you go if it doesn’t have a huge impact on quality of life. Enjoyable read! Thanks for sharing

    1. Thanks George. Well done on getting rid of those things for over a year! Do you think 100% removal is optimal for long term success? Do you find yourself romanticizing those things now that you “can’t” have them anymore? I was vegan for a year and a half but then actually stopped when I quit drinking. I couldn’t do both at the same time. I still don’t eat a ton of animal products but I enjoy the freedom from the rigidity of the rules. I think a big part of this is just finding what works for you. If moderation is possible, I think it can be a healthy approach, but it can be a slippery slope; playing with fire. We each have to be honest with ourselves and make that decision. I’ll check out your writing. I think we finally have slowed down enough as a society to start considering curiosity and thoughtfulness again. Before, the pace of life was just too frenetic. Hopefully we can take some of this simplicity into the future.

  3. I have been sober for over 17 years. I think the emptiness you mention maybe some grief for that former part of your life. I don’t miss alcohol but even after all this time parties are awkward for me when everyone else has a buzz on and I’m sober.

    1. Grief. Hmmm. That’s a word I’ve never associated myself with experiencing. I typically more think of things in terms of regret. I don’t really regret my moderate levels of drinking over the last decade or so but I definitely regret and cringe when I think about my years of really excessive drinking when I was 17-22 years old. Amazing I survived those years. But there are lasting effects for sure, things you never forget.

  4. Another advocate of checking our the Big Book of AA. I could never stay sober on my own and felt it was a sign of weakness to seek help. It wasn’t until all my resources failed that I reluctantly opened up the Big Book.
    Its spiritual solution seemed way out there, but I began to see it working in others, many of them just like me – people with contempt prior to investigation.
    In a nutshell, I discovered the problem wasn’t the booze, but emanated out of me. AA offered me the chance to fix myself, should I humble myself enough to accept the spiritual precepts of the Big Book.
    Not an easy task for someone like myself with pride and ego. But, 25 years later its solution is still working and it has carried over to making me a trail runner – physically, emotionally and mentally.

  5. Thank you for sharing another update with us, Chase. Your call to action came at a great time, “I would, however, encourage you to explore your suffering. What are those narratives on repeat in your mind and how can you alter them to better serve you?”
    I’ve been journaling every day and a consistent theme has been that I’m happy and not simultaneously. I’m excited and anxious. I’m encouraged and depressed. Digging into these emotions is the hard work that stands before me now. I’m 4 months into my no-alochol journey and like you it hasn’t been the magical fix I hoped for. Time to lift up the hood of this machine and see what’s going on.
    Again, thank you. Your writings (across the Treeline journal) inspire, challenge and bring a bit of joy into my life.

    1. Thanks Anthony! I like the “lift up the hood” analogy. I feel we’re on similar trajectories. Let me know what you discover! Appreciate the support.

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