Do you have a problem with alcohol? If you’re like the majority of social drinkers, possibly approaching the end of a successful Dry January, your answer is probably ‘No’. A couple of glasses of wine with dinner, maybe a bit of a binge at the weekend (defined for many women as four-ish drinks over a two-hour period)? This is a fair depiction of my drinking habits when I first got what I call ‘sober curious’ eight years ago, and began to question every aspect of my relationship with booze.
I started drinking in the late 1990s against the backdrop of the ‘ladette’ culture, when it was considered feminist to be able to knock back pints and drink as much as my male friends and colleagues. is meant that by my twenties I’d quickly developed a high tolerance for booze. I never blacked out or got in serious trouble as a result of my drinking, and had always considered myself a ‘normal’ drinker. So quitting was notsomething I ever considered. Why willingly put a cork in the good times and make myself a social outcast unless I had to? (In other words, unless I’d become an alcoholic – which I hadn’t.)
But by my mid-thirties the hangovers had become pretty horrific. Like most of us, I was encouraged to write this off as the sign of a good night – but instead I began my line of sober-curious questioning. How did alcohol really make me feel? How come there was often so much pressure to drink? Were the hangovers really worth it for the highs? It’s a process that has led me to radically re-evaluate how I drink, to the point that now I’ve practically cut it out altogether.
It was only when I began to remove the boozeand live a hangover-free existence that I realised the wider impact of my regular ol’, nothing-to-be-concerned-about social drinking habit. How it had been robbing me of my sleep. How I often drank to feel more confident, while in reality it actually spiked my anxiety levels and left me feeling anything but. How much more optimistic, inspired and better equipped to cope with stress I was when I didn’t drink. As a result of all I’ve learned over this period, I’ve also developed a theory: anybody who drinks alcohol regularly is a little bit addicted, as it’s impossible to have a ‘healthy’ relationship with booze.
It begins with the ‘desire function’ in our brain: we’re biologically hardwired to seek out and repeat experiences that either bring us pleasure or take away our pain. Alcohol, on a very superficial level, appears to do both. Then there’s the fact that booze is one of the five most addictive substances on the planet, up there with heroin, cocaine, nicotine and barbiturates.
When you also factor in the way that alcohol is actively marketed as the secret sauce that makes us funnier, sexier and less socially awkward – while washing all our woes down the drain – I’d argue it’s hard to maintain a perfectly healthy, take-it-or- leave-it relationship with the stuff. Of course, not everybody who drinks will become an alcoholic, by definition finding themselves physically addicted to alcohol or drinking in a way that makes them a danger to themselves or others. But I believe more of us than would ever admit it are emotionally dependent on booze.
This would explain why it’s often hard to imagine a social life without drinking, not to mention the FOMA (Fear Of Missing Alcohol) that often comes up as soon as we consider giving it up. We fear that life will become boring. at our friends will judge us. at we won’t be able to unwind. These are fears I have found to be completely unfounded – they shine a light on our psychological attachment to booze. Not only do I feel physically healthier than ever since getting sober curious, I am also more optimistic, have bags more confidence, and feel better equipped to handle whatever life throws at me. Believe me: you have nothing to lose, and so much to gain, from getting sober curious and discovering the benefits for yourself – whether or not you think you have a problem.
Ruby’s ‘Sober Curious’ (£20, HarperOne) is out now. Are we all a bit addicted to alcohol? Email feedback@graziamagazine.co.uk