Short and to the Pint, Er, Point
Issue 47 is alcohol-free
Hello friends, family, and strangers. Your presence delights me.
Every week I begin The Letter by stating how short this week’s letter will be. Every week, I finish The Letter by deleting the sentence I wrote about it being short because it quickly becomes untrue.
Not this time, though. I’m serious! This will be a shorty. Varying content lengths and keeping you on your toes are important values of mine. I often fail at the former. I hope I succeed at the latter.
This week’s topic comes from a reader:
“My husband is trying to get sober, and it’s very challenging. Everyone just assumes he drinks. They look absolutely aghast when he says he doesn’t, or they offer him a drink and ask him to make an exception.” — P.
Dear Reader and Reader’s Husband,
Congratulations. Good job. Way to go. That’s to acknowledge the no drinking or attempt at no drinking. From your note, it’s not clear whether he does or does not accept the one-offs he’s offered on occasion. The word “trying” has me wondering. In any case, I acknowledge I have no understanding of his reasoning for getting sober, history, etc., so take this entire column with a grain of salt.
Please accept that many people will not understand why your husband is making this choice, nor will they like it. This just is. I know you, and I know you know what that means. The reality of social pressures and judgments is inevitable—part and parcel of the alcohol-free journey (though it diminishes with time).
If the two of you accept that society errs on the side of alcohol, you’re free to focus on a more worthy cause—him and his choice. Haters gonna hate. People gonna be people. And, friends gonna offer alcohol. (I hate the word “gonna”.)
Regardless of their choices, who will he be?
Here’s what I mean: Since we know what they’ll do (friends), let’s focus on what he’ll do (husband). They’ll offer alcohol or scoff at his choice not to drink. What will he do? He’s our focus, not them.
A convicted person, which in this case means undeterred or resolute, is not swayed nor bothered by another’s opinion. If you’ve felt the feeling, you know it’s remarkable.
May I ask, do I detect uncertainty in your husband’s conviction to stop drinking? If so, zero shame or judgment from me. This up and down back and forth may happen several times over several years before resoluteness sets in. in. When it does, he will not tolerate nor digest his friend’s hazing. Their words will wash over him like water off a duck’s back—no ruffled feathers, a non-issue. He is unwavering. And, if he must become stern, state his point clearly, and without waffles, he will do what’s necessary to assert his conviction.
Let’s get back to “trying” to stop something. “Trying” makes perfect sense, except shame and cognitive dissonance can be its copilots—and neither are favorable. The layman’s definition of cognitive dissonance is holding two opposing views simultaneously, making it impossible to be at peace with your state of being. Drinking is famous for such dissonance—I want it. I don’t want it. I can’t have any. I can have a little. There’s no winning.
If my assessment of your husband’s minor or major dissonance is incorrect, I hope my wrongness will help another reader who may be struggling with a similar issue. However, if I’m right, deep, loving breaths. This may take time. As it does, continue turning your focus inward to what matters. With love, Simone
P.S: if you’re interested, read an essay I wrote last year about going alcohol-free.
The Ugliest Cutest Cat
This is not my cat, but I think you can appreciate why its photo is here. Friends and I stumbled upon this gem while on a walk. Its owner built a perch in the tree for Ugly Cute Cat to gawk the passersby and for passersby to gawk at Ugly Cute Cat. The feeling appears mutual.
If I told you, by pure happenstance, there was a pony in a jeep just one block away, would you believe me? Suit yourself. It’s true.
Every week the monks at Empty Cloud Monastery host a livestream on YouTube called "monk chat." I was tuning in and saw that another listener had asked in the chat:
"Venerables, my friends were pressuring me to drink, so I lied and told them that I am concerned about my liver. I feel bad because I lied, breaking a precept, to cover for another precept about not drinking. Now my friends think I'm sick when I'm not!"
The monks laughed, and said that he technically didn't lie. We all should be concerned about our livers.
Thought I'll share this anecdote in case it's helpful for the reader and husband, or readers here. :)
The ugly cute cat has no eyeballs. And her eyes and fur are monochromatic. I think that’s the feedback I’d get if I was responsible for her design.