What I Learned When I Gave Up Booze For A Year
By Erica Karnes
A little over a year ago, I quit drinking.
No, there was no dramatic, booze-fused meltdown. I didn’t slam 17 shots of Sauza and wake up three days later pantsless beside a burning cop car. No Hangover of the Century, unbearable bout of public humiliation, or walk of shame so immense that the only way forward was to peg events to the prior night’s array of beverages. Really, there was no “problem” to begin with at all. Like most thirtysomethings functioning within the modern western world, alcohol served its multifaceted purpose, with no perceived adverse side effects (other than the occasional meh one-night-stand or massive, 24-hour headache).
A frothy glass of Yes Please was both a reward and a fast track toward some well-deserved R&R. The means of celebrating as much as commiserating. A vehicle for cheersing as much as quelling complaints. A chilled glass of vino proved an ideal method for both “leaning in” or tapping out, the chic gin and tonic served to both get “with it” as much as “get over it.” I could enjoy a no-frills glass of single malt, sans shame, at nearly any point during my productive, fully operational day.
In short, I used the sauce like pretty much everyone else. Efficient, law-abiding, compassionate citizens just gunning it through another day of the…
