by Gretchen Rubin
As part of my blog and forthcoming book, The Happiness Project, I examined all the parts of my life that made me “feel bad,” and that got me thinking about drinking. After my older daughter was born, alcohol started making me “feel bad.” I’ve never been a big drinker, but in college and afterward, I drank about the same as most people. I never loved drinking, but I enjoyed it modestly. When I was pregnant, though, I stopped drinking altogether.
The “First Splendid Truth” of my happiness project holds that to think about happiness, we must think about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth.
After my daughter was born, and I started having the occasional glass of wine or beer again, I had ZERO tolerance. A half a glass of wine hit me hard.
And not for the better.
Alcohol affects me in several ways. It never really makes me friendly and jolly, as it does many people. First, I become belligerent. I have a tendency to be argumentative anyway, a tendency much strengthened by going to law school, and alcohol makes me spoil for a fight. And that’s not a fun way to interact with people.
It also makes me less discreet. I say things that I wouldn’t ordinarily say; I’m less tactful; I’m more gossipy.
After these charming effects have worked on me for a while, I then become tremendously sleepy – uncontrollable yawning, pure misery.
These effects were more noticeable in situations when I wasn’t with close friends, but rather was with people I didn’t know well, or didn’t particularly like, or doing something that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Which, of course, were situations where it was all the more important that I be friendly and polite.
What made me focus on the “bad feelings” was the way I often felt the next day. I’d feel anxious and remorseful. “Was I really as obnoxious as I think?” I’d ask my husband, trying to get his reassurance that my bellicosity and my indiscretion were all in my mind.
And it wasn’t as though my bad feelings were outweighed by my enjoyment of alcohol. Fact was I didn’t really enjoy it that much. I can’t tell a good wine from a mediocre wine. I’ve never been able to drink hard liquor. And I’ve always begrudged alcohol the calories it contains, which I’d enjoy more in the form of dessert.
Finally, it hit me – this wasn’t a happy situation. Drinking was fun for other people, but it wasn’t fun for me. I’d rather skip the drink, and skip the remorse, and save the calories.
I’m not saying this solution would work for other people. I enjoy other people’s enjoyment of drinking (unless they talk about fine wine too much). I like the festiveness of martinis and champagne. I like the zestful enthusiasm some people have for drinking–while working on Forty Ways to Look at Winston Churchill, I vicariously enjoyed Churchill’s love for liquor—though, actually, he drank less than most people think.
But it’s one of the most important “Secrets of Adulthood”—just because something is fun for someone else, doesn’t mean it’s fun for me—and vice versa.
I’m happier now that I drink less and behave better. I get home after an evening out, and I’m not eaten up with regret and worry about the way I acted. I feel fine, instead of being so tired that I can hardly take out my contacts. For me, it’s much more fun NOT to drink than to drink.
I could have solved my problem in the opposite way. If I’d started drinking more, my tolerance would have risen, and my behavior would probably have improved. For me, it was easier to skip the drinking than to increase the drinking.
I still have a little wine sometimes, or some champagne at a celebration, or a beer. I drink as much as I like—but I don’t like to drink much, now that I realize that it doesn’t agree with me.
Sometimes I regret the fact that I drink so little. Why am I so abstemious and cramped and cheerless? Other people are enjoying themselves so much.
But then I remember—it isn’t fun for me.
The striking fact about my deciding to stop drinking alcohol is that it took me so long to have the idea to do it. Why is it so hard to be myself or “Be Gretchen” as I call it on my happiness project? Why was it so hard for me to notice that I wasn’t enjoying myself? It can be very difficult to notice what seem to be very obvious facts about your very own self.
Gretchen Rubin is the author of the forthcoming book, The Happiness Project. Find out more about Gretchen at www.gretchenrubin.com
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Why is it so hard to be ourselves, and have fun anyway? For the author to realize that drinking isn’t as fun for her as it seems to be for most people is a big achievement, one that makes me think about other areas in my own life that could use a little honest assessment: amusement park rides and fireworks come to mind.
Thanks for a great post.
Thanks for sharing so much of yourself on your blog. You are an inspiration!
I’m from a very musical family and what I’m about to confess borders on sinful: I don’t enjoy jazz or classical music. And you know what? I’m not going to feel bad about it anymore!
Interesting. I stopped for pretty much the same reasons except my behavior was in the [overly] outgoing and jovial drinking category. I think there are some in my social circles who miss my drinking (maybe my hubby, too). But, the remorse, regret and bad feelings about my “drinking” behaviors — or more aptly, my behavior when I drank — is gone now. I am more Maggie than not, now. Sure, I wish I could loosen up just a little bit, I’m learning, but alcohol was not the answer for me. And, alcohol addiction seems to be a common family name in my geneology. I have children and other responsibilities in life. I just cannot take that chance.
I found this blog topic and entry really interesting. I stopped drinking during my three pregnancies, all of which occurred in my forties. I must admit at times I did miss having a glass of wine or a beer, especially with meals. However, it wasn’t really a big deal. Now that my children are a little older and I’m not nursing I drink occasionally. But I drink a lot less than before having kids and I find that that one glass of wine or beer does hit me very hard and I don’t like it as much. I’ve also noticed that I look better now that I drink less frequently. When I look at photos of myself from my 20s and 30s at parties where I’ve had several drinks, I don’t see Katy. I see a pink-faced, puffy person who doesn’t look like she’s really having much fun.
I’ve never been a drinker–alcohol just tastes really bad to me. More power to you for avoiding it from now on.
I’ve read reviews of drinks that the writer makes sound good, but I’m with you–I’d much rather eat the calories than drink them.
I have cut down on my drinking quite a bit over the last few years and I don’t miss it. The impetus for this lifestyle change was that my boyfriend does not drink since alcoholism runs in his family. I still drink when we go to parties or bars with other friends but when it is just the two of us I rarely drink. I would rather be on the same wavelength as him. As a result I have very low tolerance now and I don’t enjoy the way it makes me feel. I also think that alcohol causes me to have restless leg syndrome symptoms. I feel very squirmy and uncomfortable after having a few drinks. Does anyone else suffer from this?
Also, I would rather save money and cut down on calories. Plus, I spent so many nights drunk during my teens and twenties. I think the thrill is gone!
In reply to kk – I have restless leg syndrome and find that alcohol usually will agravate my symptoms. So you’re not alone. The alcohol, usually ingested in the evening, just adds to the awful feelings of not being able to sit still. I want to move and walk which is just not what is socially accepted when sitting around visiting with friends at a bar or even at home. I often do a lot of tidying up from our meal or snacks, etc. I’ve been thinking of cutting out alcohol for quite awhile….maybe now’s the time!
I read a version of this story on your blog, and I am happy to see it spreading further to new audiences. I wish people could realize that the decision to reduce or eliminate alcohol in your life isn’t always about teetotalling – sometimes it’s simply about not having any fun.
I read Gretchen’s article on the Huffington Post and just stumbled (appropriate word?) across this blog. I have really been struggling with my alcohol use and growing dissatisfaction with it. I too am very outgoing and gregarious when I drink, but often regret my behavior the next day. I’m in my 40s and feel I should be way beyond this. This blog post helps me believe I can get beyond my feeling like I must drink and in fact over drink in order to have fun in a social situation. Now is definately the time for me to get this under control.
I have always enjoyed wine with food. It enhances the taste for me. Especially white wine with fish. But the articles connecting breast cancer and alcohol have become more numerous and the link seems to be getting clearer. I’ve had breast cancer and definitely don’t want a recurrence. There are Rieslings that are good and have a lower percentage of alcohol than most wines, so I tried those and enjoyed them. But it’s beginning to look like this might just be reducing the risk, not eliminating it. So I’ve managed to cut out all alcohol, except for holidays and celebrations, where I have one glass of wine. It’s very sad. Also, I find myself craving sweets more, which might be connected, and sugar also has been linked to cancer by some people. It feels like avoiding cancer requires a degree of austerity in one’s life. So I’m training myself to like other things, enhancing food with herbs and savory vegetables, and it is working. But I find myself less and less interested in going to events that involve drinking, not because it makes me want to drink, but because people’s behavior when they’ve got an alcohol “buzz” makes me uncomfortable, less able to relate to them.
I’d be really interested to know if anyone else is working with this breast cancer/ alcohol link.
wrer