I used to drink so much that, at times, I’d black out. If you’ve been through this before, you’ll know how awful it is to wake up and find that half of the previous night has seemingly been erased from your memory. A recent article on how giving up alcohol can do wonders for our mental health got me thinking about my relationship with drinking over the years and how I feel miles better now that I barely drink.
Binge drinking my way through my 20s
When I first moved to Dubai in 2007, I was enamoured by all the ladies’ nights that gave me the opportunity to drink as much (cheap and crappy) alcohol as my heart desired. Being a journalist at the time also meant that I was invited to openings and launches, which were more opportunities for endless drinking. During an average week, I was out at least four nights; I still look back in awe of my stamina, because as an introvert that old schedule of mine now looks absolutely horrifying.
I spent a few years of my life binge drinking every weekend and dismissing any thoughts that were telling me that perhaps it was a terrible idea. It was only after I got a job in Abu Dhabi that my drinking naturally dwindled. I was commuting for three hours a day, which meant that by the end of the week the last thing I wanted to do was party.
When I subsequently got into a long-term relationship, my drinking lessened even more as I slowly started to realise that it wasn’t doing me any good. I recall how at the beginning of that relationship the drinking made me act in ways that I wasn’t proud of. I’d drink, and if something was playing on my mind it would invariably lead to an emotional outburst of gigantic proportions.
It turned me into a mess.
Taking the time to heal properly
After we broke up, I hit rock bottom emotionally. I look back and I’m in awe of how well I dealt with everything I went through and how I somehow knew exactly what I needed to do in order to heal all those awful wounds properly. I stopped drinking for months, only allowing myself to have a glass of wine while watching the sun go down when I felt like it. My rule was simple: I was not allowed to drink any more than that one glass.
I didn’t want to numb my feelings. I didn’t want to potentially reach out to my ex and tell him exactly what I thought of him. I also didn’t want to deal with how awful the emotional hangover would be the following day. I’m happy to say that I stuck with it and that it was the right thing to do. Trying to numb myself wasn’t going to achieve anything. I wanted to feel everything I needed to feel and start to let it go; alcohol wouldn’t have allowed me to do that.
The last four years have been a journey of healing. Therapy, yoga, meditation, reading, and many other soulful things have helped me to work through not only the relationship stuff, but also all of the other things that came bubbling to the surface when that one wound was ripped open.
Alcohol was never my friend
I realise now that my drinking in my 20s was hugely problematic. The issue was that I wasn’t very self-aware back then. Sure, I had a vague idea of my patterns and what they were trying to communicate to me, but I had no idea how to work on my mental health and stop doing things that were bad for me.
All these years later, as I’ve worked through all the wounds and pain, I’ve realised that I used alcohol to mask everything that I was feeling. I used it to make myself feel more confident, outspoken, and heard. I used it to numb pain. I used it because it felt like fun at the time and this was more ‘comfortable’ than facing up to and processing past hurt.
It was like using crutches when I was doing nothing to heal the broken leg.
Here’s the thing, though. I now clearly see that alcohol can only do these things for so long. At some point, something will rupture those wounds and bring all the pain to the surface, and turning to alcohol will only salve them temporarily. If anything, I feel that if we carry on drinking through these traumatic and painful events, we risk developing alcoholism in order to ‘cope.’
Just about teetotal
Four years later, and I’ve healed well. My drinking is at an all-time low and it’s now that I realise just how damn bad it is for our mental health. As I only have one or two alcoholic drinks a month, when I happen to have a little bit more I realise how awful it is for me.
As I no longer drink enough to get drunk, I always see the effects the next day when all of a sudden it feels like the end of the world. The blues descend, my anxiety peaks, and I spend the whole day having to self-soothe. In fact, this happened while I was on holiday in George Town, Malaysia earlier this year; it ruined a whole day for me as I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened (it hadn’t – it was the comedown).
Cutting down is one the best things I’ve ever done for myself.
Reality: alcohol is terrible for our mental health
While writing this post, I decided to look up what research tells us about alcohol and mental health, and I wasn’t surprise with what I read. For example, alcohol has been found to alter our brain chemistry because it’s a depressant. So, even if you have a pleasant feeling when you have your first tipple, the more you drink the more you risk the negative emotional response taking over. Regular drinking also reduces the serotonin in your brain, and lower serotonin is believed to be linked with depression.
Makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?
Despite the fact I still love a tipple or two (Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without a glass of Champagne), I now recognise that regular drinking just isn’t good for me. Luckily, I’m able to stop at two – in fact, these days I am stopping more and more at just the one, because I’ve found that even two can send me a little over the edge.
I truly recommend that if you’re learning to look after your mental health that you should take a look at your alcohol consumption. Sure, alcohol alone doesn’t cause depression, but it can exacerbate low mood, feelings of worthlessness, anxiety etc. Therefore, if you’re drinking a little too much, it could be having an effect on how you feel.
Here are a number of things you can do in order to become more aware of how much you’re drinking and reduce your intake for better mental health (among other things – think of all the money you’ll save, especially if you live in Dubai!).
Take the test
Drinkaware, a UK-based organisation, have a really useful test that can help you figure out if you’re drinking too much. Click here to take it. On the whole, some telltale signs are:
- An increase in the amount of alcohol you buy every week.
- Needing to finish every day with a drink.
- Drinking more than the daily unit guidelines on most days of the week (14 units per week).
Acknowledge and honour where you are in your journey
If your intake is a cause for concern, take a pause to acknowledge this may be an issue that you’d like to address. Instead of berating yourself for drinking too much, give yourself a pat on the back for recognising it’s an issue and for wanting to do things that will improve your mental health.
This is an act of self-compassion; the kinder we are with ourselves, the more likely we are to stick with positive habits. Perhaps you can journal your thoughts, or even write a letter of compassion to yourself (something I’ll be exploring in a future post).
Click here for a post I wrote on self-compassion.
Reverse your tolerance
I believe one of the reasons I drink less and less as time passes is because the less I drink, the more my tolerance to alcohol shrinks.
When I was in my 20s, I could binge drink for England. Although I regularly say I have no idea how I did it, I know the answer is simple: the more I drank, the more my tolerance increased.
So, if you’ve taken the test and have found you’re drinking more than the recommended limit, aim to reduce your intake to the recommended 14 units per week. Drinkaware has a great app that can help you track your alcohol consumption. By doing this, you’ll naturally start bringing your tolerance back down.
Note: Health experts strongly advise against ‘reserving’ the units for one big binge; spread those units out over the week.
Try alcohol free days… or weeks?
Cutting out alcohol completely for days (or even better, weeks) can also help to reset your tolerance. Start small by having three or four alcohol free days during the week and build up to going teetotal for a week or two.
Become conscious of your triggers
Psychologists say that the key to drinking less is to figure out when you drink or what your triggers are and break the association by doing something different. For example, maybe you drink as soon as you get home from work to unwind from the day’s stressors; instead, schedule a yoga class or take up a new hobby. Or if you and your friends go out for dinner a few times a week and you always end up drinking wine, resolve to stick to water or mocktails instead.
We’re not aiming for perfection, just a healthy reduction.
Schedule things you love during weekend mornings
My love for yoga is helping me to slowly (and organically) give up drinking. The day I’m most likely to go for drinks or dinner is a Thursday night, but my early morning yoga sessions during the weekend mean that I won’t go further than one drink or two (if I drink at all). The thought of being hungover in a yoga class is enough to put me off. I love my practice and want to continue to improve and reap the benefits – alcohol will only get in the way of that.
If you have a habit of overdrinking during the weekend, think of starting a hobby you love. It can be something physical, like yoga, Pilates, or a personal training session, or something like learning a new language, taking an art class, and taking up photography. Anything that you know you need to be alert and up early for.
Reach out if you’re struggling
Luckily my drinking dwindled on its own as a result of me taking better care of my mental health, but I know this might not be the case for everyone. If you find your drinking is spiraling and getting out of control and you’re unable to get on track, think about reaching out to a therapist who can help you through.
