Pouring Out My Soul: Why I Don't Drink

About 15 years ago, Brooklyn was swingin,’ baby!

On a Friday night, there were a number of bars that I’d frequent in Fort Greene including Frank’s, Moe’s, Scopello, and Night of the Cookers. I could trot over to Park Slope and kick it at Chocolat. Depending on my mood, I’d roll up to Bed-Stuy and hang out at Therapy until last call. Then I’d jump in a cab and hit Caviar, where I could dance until 6:30 a.m. It was so much fun, it was only on rare occasion that I’d hang out in Manhattan or the Bronx.

Over several years doing this, I probably spent enough on drinks to buy a new car. My social drinking habits never caused me any trouble. It was the same for my friends. We were all young and having fun. Liquor was the fuel for me.

Then one day, it wasn’t.

I don’t know what the catalyst was, whether it was dealing with personal tragedy and my own mental health issues, or a new approach to physical health that interested me. Perhaps I was just getting older, but I began to see drinking as an immature thing for me.

I’d come across Australian wellness coach James Swanwick’s “30-Day No Alcohol Challenge” by chance on social media in which he suggests taking a break from drinking for just a month. I was never a heavy drinker but there were certainly nights I drank more than I should have because the social lube seemed to help me fit things that were hard to fit otherwise.

But I decided for me, that was a copout. So one New Year’s I decided to take Swanwick up on this challenge. I downed the flute of champagne I was holding in my hand and pledged not to touch any alcohol again until the beginning of February.

I thought it would be hard because my entire social life involved being in places where the liquor was flowing. From afterwork functions, to get togethers in people’s homes, to hanging out on weekends with friends, it was everywhere. But before I knew it, two weeks had gone by and I hadn’t missed drinking. Then I completed the whole 30 days, and I felt no need to grab a drink.

As February moved on, I just kind of forgot to order any alcohol anyplace I went. I had been asking for seltzer water with lime as something to nurse while everyone else held glasses of riesling, merlot, or a martini or something infused with rum or vodka. I was cool without it, and found myself doing the work to be socially appealing. My cognizance replaced liquor and wine as the social lubricant.

Those who I could reach just by being myself enjoyed my company. Those who liked me better when I was “nice” were really off putting to me and I started distancing myself from them.

Soon a month became two months, which became six months, which became a year. Now it’s been about eight years since I’ve taken a drink. I don’t miss it at all.

Some people who quit drinking will tell you that they don’t miss the headaches, the hangovers, the nauseous feeling they get from binging. They don’t miss the stupid mistakes they made, the asinine behavior, the ruined relationships, the lost jobs, the gross expenses, and the poor reputations they got from being a lush.

But that wasn’t the reason for me. I just realized that what I was doing was putting a toxin into my body and there was no logical reason to do that, no matter what social door it opened. I didn’t feel like I was better than anybody. No new bright and clear mornings magically dawned. The world didn’t change. I didn’t start aging backward. I was still hanging out in bars and kicking it with the same people, but I simply felt better without drinking.

Now, I know the old saying “everything in moderation,” but does it make sense to sniff ammonia in moderation? Does it do you any good to stare directly into the sun in moderation?

This is the basic preachy part. I’ll get to the real reasons in a minute.

When you consume alcohol, depending on your age, weight and other factors your body metabolizes it right away, sending it to your brain, kidneys, lungs and liver. As you know, the impact on your brain is less cognizance and more discombobulation, plus the slurring of words, loss of coordination, and feelings of either euphoria or depression or even both simultaneously.

Meanwhile your kidneys take a kidney punch because the alcohol, a diuretic, dehydrates you by making you urinate more. If you drink too much in a single setting, your liver can’t process it and builds up fatty tissue, preventing it from functioning properly. Since the liver has about 500 different functions, it’s like shooting craps with one die and the point is 10.

The Court of Public Consumption

People are very good at passing judgment on other people, but awful at introspection. The human mind likes to tell others what they are doing wrong, but it takes getting knocked on your ass a few times for it to say, “maybe it’s me.”

I experienced more than a few people who would cringe at me when I told them I’m done with drinking wine and spirits. There are people whose “come on, just one” goading got really tired. I had another over my house who had an attitude because I didn’t have anything to get sloshed on. More than a few women I went on dates with showed that my choice made them uncomfortable.

One person I had lunch with, but never told about the change I’d made, jutted out: “I don’t trust people who don’t drink.” Another cited Ernest Hemmingway and Hunter S. Thompson as writers who were heavy drinkers and were successful at their craft. “Aren’t they both dead?” I asked.

Never heard from that person again.

It was as if I was the bad guy for not imbibing beverages, some of which are only a few molecules over from formaldehyde. If I wanted to do that, I’d just go to a funeral parlor. But I guess if a beer, shots or cocktails have been part of your normal routine for years, as well as everyone you know, then yes, you might find a guy like me weird.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to judge anybody. The law in every U.S. state dictates that you have to be 21 to purchase any alcoholic beverage (18 or 19 in Canada). I’m a big believer in people having the free will to do as they please as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else. I don’t have to like it, but it ain’t my business. That helps me deal with a hell of a lot of the things I see on a day to day basis.

So what are the real reasons I don’t consume booze? It’s really simple: I’m not the person I once was.

I’ve always been a social person, an extrovert, someone who needs to bounce off of another person’s energy. I like being part of the conversation, part of the game. I don’t like sitting on the sidelines and if there’s excitement I like to participate in the noise. That’s pretty much not going to change as I age. For so much of my adult life, though, alcohol was the conductor of that electricity.

But I also remembered the times I could have behaved better, but liquid courage gave me license not to. I remembered wasting money and time with people who were wastes of money and time. I remembered the lethal violence I’ve witnessed that started because someone had taken one drink too many.

These days I think of a dear friend who drank herself to death from depression. I think of a young man in Atlanta who if, but for alcohol, would never have encountered the cop who killed him.

I think of the multiple corporate brands that happily sell this shit on every corner in the places I’ve lived, ushering teenagers standing in front of liquor stores into middle and then old age while their lives pass them by…and they make billions from it while offering nothing back.

I don’t drink alcohol because I don’t want to be a part of it and I don’t want it to be a part of me. That’s the reason.

Still Not Judging

Forbes reported that Gen Z, that group of crazy kids who are currently younger than 30 – which the millennials we complained about 10 years ago are now complaining about, are drinking less. This is possibly in part as a result of the coronavirus pandemic. But I still wouldn’t have a problem if they were drinking more and the trend could certainly reverse as they age. I mean, currently the most popular song in the world is about “everybody at the bar getting tipsy.”

The choice of what to do with one’s body is a very personal one and it is a right that I believe every adult should have. That includes the choice to drink a chemical toxin that is legal to sell for consumption.

A century ago, when the federal government tried to take that right away from people, they wanted it more than ever. New illicit industries sprang up and an organized crime infrastructure developed that still exists. It was one of the dumbest moves America ever made and it only proves restricting freedoms rather than granting them does more harm than good.

My choice is based on freedom as well. It might not make me free from judgment, but I learned years ago that people will do that no matter what you do. For me it’s about the freedoms I have because alcohol is one less thing I have to worry about.

Madison Gray is a New York City-based writer and editor whose work has appeared in multiple publications globally. Reach out to him at madison@starkravingmadison.com.