It’s 5 o’clock and I really want a drink.

Okay, so it’s 4. But it’s been a rough day.

I mean, seriously. 

I’ve long debated with myself the wisdom of drinking vs. not drinking, and have even admitted to a certain—shall we say—gleeful enjoyment when it comes to booze.

I’m not gonna lie: a glass of wine makes the medicine go down.

I come from a family in which my mom rarely has more than one drink—and that a lightly poured Dark and Stormy (a Maine speciality), and my dad has vacillated for as long as I can remember (just like me) between not drinking at all, drinking moderately and drinking way too much (the last a bad habit I personally left behind over a decade ago).

I recently read a couple of different articles about people who had given up drinking entirely, and how, for them, it was a profoundly life-changing event. They recounted how they had more energy, had lost weight, did more interesting things with their lives, slept better and so on and so forth.

It all sounded pretty great. I mean, I want to experience all of those things!

But, wait! When I drink moderately, I do.

I asked myself, should I really be so worried about the glass of wine or the finger of scotch my husband and I enjoy together by the fire on a lazy weekend night? And the answer for me is, not if I’m doing it for the right reason—which is real enjoyment rather than escape.

But how can I be certain of my motives, and do I really even want to take the time to break it down when I could just sit back with a nice malbec?

Well, I may not be in the mood to give it so much thought, but a) I overthink everything so why should this be any different? and b) I believe that we should be mindful even in our “vices.” (I put that in quotation marks because drinking may or may not be a vice depending on many factors.)

In our culture everything seems to be black and white. Either we are anorexic or obese, wealthy or poor, fitness freaks or couch potatoes, binge drinkers or teetotalers. I am none of these things; neither fat nor thin, rich or poor, gym rat or layabout, alcoholic or sober Sally. And that’s okay.

In all things, I try to walk the middle way.

The Middle Way is a Buddhist term with rich connotations. Most simply, it implies a balanced approach to life and the regulation of one’s impulses and behavior, close to Aristotle’s idea of the “golden mean” whereby “every virtue is a mean between two extremes, each of which is a vice.” 

While it is true that a Buddhist monk would probably not promote drinking in any amount, for a lay woman like me, I hold that the middle way applies here as well.

To discover if we are on the middle path or veering dangerously close to the edge, we can ask ourselves these questions.

Why am I drinking? 

Am I trying to dull pain? Is it social? Is it appropriate (legal and generally acceptable in a given situation)? Am I celebrating? Am I alone?

If we’ve had a horrible day and are planning on sneaking a sip of alter wine at a church service, it’s probably not a good idea to indulge. But, if we’ve had a nice productive day, our i’s are dotted and our t’s are crossed and we’re sitting down to relax with a loved one, it might be.

How do I feel when I drink?

Everyone has known an angry drunk, a crying drunk, a happy drunk and so on. If we are any of these (even an overly happy sort) we shouldn’t be drinking. If we essentially feel and act like ourselves after a couple of beers, and we don’t feel guilty, sick or ashamed, it’s likely we’re in safe territory.

How do I feel after I drink?

Because I don’t drink to excess, the mornings after I have a few cocktails are pretty much the same as the mornings I don’t. I get up at the same time, eat the same food, work out at the same intensity etc etc.

If I woke up debilitated on a routine basis, I would be forced to re-evaluate.

The key is to be brutally honest with ourselves.

I feel fortunate that I can enjoy what I consider to be one of the great pleasures of life without great impediment—but if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t hesitate to stop.

Even if we choose not to drink, there are certainly a million and one other fun things we could be doing with our time. And let’s be honest—sobriety does indeed save time, money and empty calories.

 

 

 

Relephant: 

I Quit Drinking 4 Years Ago: My Transformation.

 

 

Author: Erica Leibrandt

Editor: Renée Picard 

Photo: gauri_lama at Flickr