Sober(ing)

Wilfred coat (similar)
In the Style sweater
Zara jeans (similar)
Mango boots (similar)
Loewe handbag
Mango sunglasses
Celine necklace
Linjer rings (c/o) (similar)
Mejuri earrings (similar)
Location: The Exchange District – Winnipeg, Manitoba

Unlike many people, who turned to drinking out of boredom and anxiety and loneliness during the pandemic, I ultimately decreased my alcohol consumption substantially. It wasn’t intentional, and it didn’t happen right away. I never set out to be sober. In fact, I happily sipped my way through the first lockdown, ordering new wines to try through all of the delivery services that became available almost over night. It was fun, at first. But like most things that you on repeat, the novelty wore off.

Pre-pandemic, I travelled almost constantly for work. It was exhilarating but also exhausting, and often solitary. Always on my own at the airport, my overflowing inbox my only companion, I was rarely without a glass of wine to help me pass the time. It was never problematic. But I knew I was drinking mostly because I was bored, and absolutely because someone else was paying for it. Work trips stopped with the pandemic, and therefore so did drinking in airport lounges and hotel bars.

Drinks with friends suffered the same fate. We could make that happen via FaceTime or Zoom, of course, but life isn’t meant to happen on video, so video wine dates were much less frequent during lockdown than they were in real life.

In lockdown, that left drinking wine at home – either alone or with Ian. I got bored of it. The wine selection was always the same. So was the company. There were other things we could do. That we gave it up wasn’t intentional. Neither of us particularly considered that we were making a decision to be sober. It started simply enough – no drinks on work nights. Which eventually became no drinks from Monday to Friday. Once the habits were broken, it slowly morphed into no drinks at all.

This is one of those stories where you’re probably expecting a revelation, but there was none. My life didn’t change when I took wine out of the equation. I saved a bit of money, but not much. My tolerance for alcohol decreased, which resulted in one unintentionally wild night when lockdown lifted in April 2021. I just wasn’t interested in drinks, so I gave them up. By default, that made me sober.

And I stayed sober, until I didn’t anymore.

What I’ve discovered, since I started drinking regularly again at Christmas time is that there was an unintended consequence of my period of life as a sober person. Without realising it, I examined my relationship with alcohol while I wasn’t drinking it. So I know that when I reach for wine now, especially outside of a social situation with friends, I know exactly why I’m doing it – and none of the reasons are ones that I like. When I’m stressed, particularly after a bad week at work, a glass of wine brings me back to feeling like myself… but so does taking a walk. Choosing a drink is taking the easy road. And when I’m anxious, especially in a social situation, I overindulge as a coping mechanism, rather than managing those feelings in a way that I know how to.

Mostly, when I do drink regularly, it becomes a habit, so as time passes, my consumption increases. I love a good routine. If wine is part of it, it’s always part of it.

I still drink far less than I did before the pandemic. And if I’m honest, I truly don’t see myself ever saying that I’ll pursue being sober as a lifestyle choice. I love good wine. The experience of visiting vineyards and champagne houses is one that I treasure every time I get to do it. But I also didn’t come to appreciate those things until I was in my late twenties. Up to that point in time, I drank rarely, if ever – and I managed to muddle my way through life, dealing with stress, anxiety and boredom without it. Reflecting on that, and the fact that I so often choose not to do that now simply because I like wine is actually quite… sobering.

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