A quick note: I’ve been scheduling posts for early morning on Thursdays, and am mixing it up and sending this one a smidge later on Wednesday. If you have a timing preference (or it doesn’t matter at all) please let me know in the comments or via email. Otherwise, I will overthink this until I die! askasoberlady@gmail.com
Hello,
I’ve been really enjoying reading your newsletter, and your most recent post really resonated with me. Thank you so much for sharing your story so beautifully and honestly.
I’ve gone back and forth with alcohol for many years and cannot deny the benefits I feel when I remove alcohol from my life for an extended period of time. My drinking sounds similar to yours in that it’s a struggle to drink slowly, I typically drink to get intoxicated, and love suggesting shots after a night out. However, when I go for longer than several weeks without drinking, I find myself incredibly bored. I still go out and socialize, but, it’s difficult for me to have the type of fun that feels wild and free. My therapist has tried telling me to find “healthy forms of chaos,” and so I take dance classes and play the drums, but nothing really hits in the same way. Is there anything you’d suggest, or is there anything you’ve found that feels just as “fun”? I’m deeply aware of all of the negative after-effects, so I know drinking isn’t full of purely fun times, but just thought I’d ask to see what has worked for you to remain alcohol-free.
-Finding Fun
Hi FF,
Thank you for the kind words about the newsletter and for writing in. It’s a great question, and I think many people who have tried to cut back on their drinking can relate to it.
First, congratulations on recognizing that you may be relying on alcohol in an unhealthy way. It’s great that you are talking about these issues with a therapist with whom you are comfortable.
You say, “I still go out and socialize, but it’s difficult for me to have the type of fun that feels wild and free.”
I know exactly what you mean. There’s that thing that cracks open when some of us drink, a giddiness that makes us feel like a just-lit firecracker let loose in the sky to explode and shine. I wish I could suggest an activity guaranteed to make you feel that way without the part where hot ash plummets to the ground and potentially starts a wildfire. If that unicorn activity exists, I don’t know what it is. But I hope I can still be helpful.
One of the effects of regular binge drinking is that we prime our brains to associate fun and relaxation with intoxication. I’m using the medical definition of binge drinking—drinking enough that your blood alcohol is over the legal limit of .08—not what I used to think of as binge drinking, which was more of the boot-and-rally variety.
You’ve taught your brain that alcohol leads to spectacular fireworks, so understandably, your brain feels like any activity is duller without booze. That also means a swap from doing shots to playing the drums is unlikely to have an immediate, 1:1 fun replacement effect.
I promise this does not mean that if you stop drinking entirely, you are doomed to a fireworks-free life. Your body might need to recalibrate for longer than a few weeks for you to feel the kind of spark from other activities as you do from alcohol. One of the reasons so many of us end up struggling with liquor is because it’s such a fast and drastic way to change how we feel.
Before we get to suggestions for alcohol-free fun, let’s talk about this concept of “healthy chaos.” It sounds like you want the wildness of drinking to intoxication without the various physical and emotional consequences of doing so. I’m not sure that exact outcome is possible, only because I have a suspicion that, deep down, your definitions of “healthy” and “chaos” might be—at least to some degree—mutually exclusive. Does part of the wild freedom come from inhibitions lowered to the extent that anything (i.e., healthy or unhealthy, good or bad, safe or dangerous) could happen?
I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but it’s how I felt. Those wild nights were electric—and I relished not thinking, not feeling, not being weighed down or held back by anything.
Booze aside, flirting with recklessness can be intoxicating, and its absence can feel stifling. I was one of the few people in my rehab who wasn’t a smoker. I’d smoked off and on in high school and college, but by the time I landed in treatment, it was well off my radar. Within a month of leaving rehab, I’d started smoking. I wasn’t craving nicotine or indulging some '90s delusion that smoking is cool; I was simply bored, and I missed doing something bad.
I felt like I had become this tame, sober librarian and craved breaking that archetype. Cigarettes and bad romantic decisions were all that was left.
I think it’s worth considering if part of the boredom you’re experiencing is less about chaos and more about playing with fire. To be clear, I don’t think anything is inherently wrong with that impulse, but it’s worth figuring out if it’s part of the equation. If your non-drinking activities don’t hit quite the same way, it might not be fun you’re missing, but the risk of self-destruction. That would be a great thing to bring up with your therapist.
Regardless of what’s behind it, you should probably let go of the idea that you will find a replacement activity that feels precisely like a night of drunken revelry. But I think you can find something that’s still fun, ultimately more satisfying, and kinder to your liver.
I’m curious how you came up with dance classes and drums. Were these things you always wanted to try? Do you find them exciting or just moderately enjoyable?
Instead of things you think might be fun, try picking activities well outside your comfort zone. Nothing truly dangerous, but something you would never normally think to do. I got surprisingly into indoor rock climbing for a bit—I liked the mental and physical challenge of figuring out how to get up the wall and then kicking my feet to bounce off the wall as someone let me down.
A friend and I also took a series of pole dancing classes at one point, which was way further outside our comfort zones than we had realized when we signed up. That one was harder to stick with; I can’t memorize choreography, and neither of us could keep a straight face, but oh my god, those moves take more athleticism than I ever knew.
You’ll run into a few things that truly suck, but you’ll get over it and move on to the next thing. Once, I signed up for a beginner’s tap dance class only to realize 1) it was beginner-intermediate, 2) everyone else was intermediate and had been tap dancing for years, and 3) our teacher planned on filming every class and then sending the videos to all the students to review. Which is how I ended up with a pair of tap shoes I’ve worn exactly once.
You and a friend could take turns picking a non-alcoholic, mildly terrifying, but potentially fun weekend activity. Whether that’s an open water swimming group, a trapeze class, or an open mic night, make a list of things that make you feel slightly terrified and embarrassed but also excited. What you’re looking for isn’t just fun, but a thrill. Something that shakes your nervous system a bit while still being safe. Something foreign enough that you don’t know exactly how you will feel at the end.
Worst case scenario? You try some things you hate but have some absurd and fun stories. Best case scenario? You find something that gives you the precise fun/thrill combination you want. No matter what, you’ll probably meet a few decent people in a context that doesn’t revolve around alcohol, and that development alone could lead you in an unexpected and promising direction.
Send questions and feedback to askasoberlady@gmail.com. By sending a question, you agree to let me reprint it in the newsletter with your name redacted or changed. Emails may be edited for length or clarity.
I’m not a doctor or mental health professional, so my advice shouldn’t be construed as medical or therapeutic advice. You are free to take or leave it.
Thank you ☺️☺️☺️
How about roller skating?