What a dry year has taught me about mental health

In December 2019, I made a decision to stop drinking. I’d been on a journey with my mental health for a couple of years by that time and made many changes along the way to help myself. But booze was one thing I hadn’t felt the need or desire to knock on the head.

Quick re-cap (and links to some previous blogs) for anyone reading this who hasn’t seen me talk about mental health before:

1. I am a recovering clinical perfectionist

2. I have a chronic problem with low self-esteem

3. I chose to leave a job of 10+ years back in 2018 with no plan for what would happen next

Why give up the booze?

One of the greatest challenges I face on a day-to-day basis is energy. It is a constant game of cat and mouse for me between that which I need to do and the amount of energy and focus I’m able to put into doing it.

But towards the end of 2019, my energy levels were slipping lower and lower for several reasons.

Firstly, work had gone from strong pipeline to none of it converting. I was in the first year of freelance life and dealing with the inevitable fluctuations in work was taking it out of me. Was I not getting work because I was bad at my job? If I don’t get work for a month, does that mean I won’t get work for three months?

Secondly, the clinical perfectionism in me means that I find Christmas overwhelming. I beat myself up for not having great ideas for what to get for people and how to plan our time which, in turn, means I end up inert and not doing anything to sort it out.

As the day itself gets closer, I get more frustrated and anxious about the fact I’ve still not been able to move it forward and that compounds everything further still. It’s a vicious cycle I face on a daily basis and it ramps up every year around the build up to Christmas. It’s exactly the same around the birthdays of close friends and family.

Thirdly, after a coupe of years I had decided – with my doctor’s support – that I wanted to come off anti-depressants. I didn’t feel they’d done anything for me and had more faith in the value of psychotherapy to help me.

And, last but by no means least, on top of all of this I had been hitting the festive season pretty hard. Lots of socialising, no small amount of drinking and all of the grogginess and tiredness that can come from the run up to Christmas.

All said and done, I reached the end of the year feeling two things:

1. I didn’t ever want to go through a Christmas that I’d been that unhappy through again

2. With so many other stones already turned, the booze was the one I’d not tackled. I had lots to (potentially) gain by stopping but more to lose by not.

When did I decide?

I’d known for years I could have done with moderating my alcohol intake, but I think I’d lacked the self-awareness to realise the need to do something about it. I’m sure I’m not alone on that score.

On 28 December, reeling from feeling crappy at Christmas and desperately trying to look for positives, I decided that I was going to stop.

As a clinical perfectionist, I struggle with grey areas. In my historical view of the world, I either am doing something or I’m not. I’d been talking through how important embracing those grey areas in life was with my therapist for months and I’d made good progress, but here was something I didn’t feel could sit in a grey area. I was going to stop drinking. No more booze. Ever.

What was it like to start with?

First things first, I had put this off because I thought it would be too hard. I couldn’t imagine socialising without a pint or unwinding on a Friday without a glass of wine. After all, these had become habits embedded over years.

But I had clearly – and unusually for me - got my mindset nailed, because I didn’t find it all difficult. Yes, it was awkward as I tried to experiment with non-alcoholic alternatives in the early stages, but I never wavered on my decision not to drink.

I didn’t shirk from social occasions in those early days either. In my mind, there was no point in doing so because this was going to be the way I lived my life from this point onward. I might as well throw myself in at the deep end and be done with it.

I remain to this day surprised by how easily I made this switch, but I don’t take it for granted. I’m relieved I didn’t have to put myself through the mill again psychologically to do this.

And what about when the world went to pot?

You don’t need me to tell you that 2020 has been a challenge. In fact, plenty of people I’ve spoken to this year have readily assumed I slipped off the wagon back in the first few months.

And who would have blamed me, right? I ended up going through and incredibly lean nine months on the work front from October 2019 through to June 2020 and I really struggled at points. But I didn’t once think that I wanted a drink.

I found pretty soon after stopping that, rather than some wave of clarity sweeping over me, the major benefit came in noticing the small things. Not drinking didn’t stop my mental health challenges – and there have been no shortage of those over 2020 – but it did enable me to recognise what was happening, the triggers for those changes in mood and energy, and to get myself back on the right course much quicker than I would have done.

Going into the year, I was already a firm believer in the cumulative benefit of making lots of small changes rather than a big bang, life changing moment. Cutting out booze was a big change for me personally, but not half as significant as the benefit I derived from doing it.

Rather than being a tough year to decide to stop drinking, 2020 was exactly the right year for me to knock it on its head.

What are the tangible benefits I’ve seen?

There are quite a few things I’ve noticed this year, but here are some of the most significant:

- It’s not directly related just to the decision but, despite everything the year has thrown up I am coming to the end of my busiest quarter to date, for the first time staring at a pipeline of potential for the months ahead. I’ve gone from wondering where any business was going to come from a year ago to having to push back or decline opportunities.

A big part of this comes from how I’ve approached work this year, compared with others, by being able to adopt a different mindset and to achieve more in a way that works for me. And I’m understanding more about what makes me tick because of it.

- I’m approaching Christmas with less trepidation than last year too. I’m still walking the tightrope of emotions I face every year on this front, but I’m being a little kinder to myself and am making baby steps toward this becoming a less risky time for my wellbeing each year.

Seemingly simple things like sending Christmas cards and buying presents still tie me up in inexplicable knots, but who know where I’ll be on that score by this time next year?

- I’ve gained a degree of self-belief on the back of this. Other people think it’s amazing that I’ve done it, but I don’t hold the same view. I’ve proved something to myself and that has wide-reaching implications for the way I make decisions, not just now but into the future.

- I’ve run the equivalent of Land’s End to John O’Groats already this year. I was already a runner, but it was always a battle of wills to actually get myself out there doing it most of the time.

I’ve reset my relationship with running this year because I now understand I need to do it regularly to keep on track psychologically. I don’t care how fast or far I run now. I just know I need to do it and not allow myself to create too great a gap between runs.

To be clear, nothing is fixed because of knocking booze on the head, but it’s enabled me to kick start some of the repair jobs I needed to undertake to help lead a more contented life.

So, you’re off it for good then?

This is the thing that has surprised me the most about the experience. I said earlier that I struggle with living in the grey areas of life and at the start of this booze-less life I was adamant I was off it for good. But something has changed in my perception of things.

In fact, it was back in July. I came to a realisation that I had reset my relationship with alcohol. I hadn’t missed the feeling of being a little tipsy. I didn’t need it to socialise like I thought I did. And I was surviving one of the most challenging years my business was likely to face without feeling the need to use it as a crutch.

But I really did miss the pleasure of nice glass of red wine.

Non-alcoholic beers have come on leaps and bounds over the years – trust me, I’ve drunk a lot of them over the past 12 months – but non-alcoholic wine? Well, let’s just say it’s not for me.

In July I decided I was still going to see a year out booze-less but, with the benefit of everything I’d learned about myself, my resolve and, crucially, what I need to do to keep a keen eye on to help me spend more time contented, I would approach the future with a less-booze attitude.

Arguably, this could prove harder to manage than cutting it our altogether but I now have the enormous benefit of knowing I can step away from it again and recalibrate if I feel the need.

And I’m also looking forward to experiencing the rich, velvety smoothness of a glass of Châteauneuf du Pape in the company of good friends.