WHY SOBRIETY IS THE ULTIMATE ACT OF REBELLION

Dickie Felton | 31 December 2022 |

It was the morning after the night before and I had a head full of dread.

There was the all-familiar aches, hot sweats and enveloping booze blues.

I queasily operated in auto-pilot, slow-motioning towards actual movement.

I’d actually brushed off worse Sunday hangovers.

But this was more significant than ones I’d endured most weekends for the past three decades.

This hangover would prove seismic – because it would be my last.

The end of ale and me didn’t involve a TV thrown out of a hotel window, boozy punch-up or me crashing my car following a 100 mph police chase on the highway to hell.

I called time on 32-years of drinking during a sobering Sunday in McDonalds. The curtain call came amid Happy Meals and an abandoned hash brown as I rushed to the restroom to wretch.

The Golden Arches was situated opposite a litter-strewn industrial estate in a northern town.

It was Easter Sunday, it was raining and I was spewing in the bogs.

Head in toilet basin my chunder was masked by music. Speakers above my desperate frame emitted ‘Happy’ from the film ‘Despicable Me 2’. A multitude of ironies circled and soared.

The ‘know-it-all’ inside my head had seen it all before: “There you go again you dickhead”.

But this time the voice was louder: “You are now 48-years-of-age – is this really a good look?”

Like millions of middle-aged middle-of-the-road drinkers I enjoyed a weekend session. For as long as I can remember I sank a few bevvies of a Friday or Saturday. Or sometimes both.

I never drank during the working week. I’ve never been slumped on a park bench with a brown paper bag. I’ve never missed a day at work, football match or gig due to alcohol induced illness.

That said, years ago I once fell asleep in a drunken stupor in a Madrid nightclub and woke up on a beach. Madrid doesn’t even have a beach.

More recently there was that impromptu St Patrick’s Day session which resulted in a late night tumble down a steep path causing serious rip damage to my best jeans. At least it was only Levi’s hurt and not my legs.

The problem with me, was that once-a-week drinkies with the gang was resulting in a three-day hangover.

I’d drink on Saturday and still feel rough by midweek. I’d even paid for the pleasure.

I have an ‘all-or-nothing’ personality. Open a packet of wine gums and I’ll scoff the lot. Go out for a ‘quiet pint’ and I’ll come home smashed.

I’d consume too much of a Saturday and still be feeling physically and mentally rough by the Wednesday. Into my late 40s the hangovers and resulting hangxiety were getting worse.

In that McDonalds toilet my body was  screaming: ‘enough is enough’.

So I decided to give up the booze to a soundtrack of Pharrell Williams: “Clap along if you feel like that that’s what you want to do…”

The date was 17 April 2022. I’ve not had a drink since. And, like Pharrell, I’ve never been happier.

I didn’t think I’d get through three weeks of non-drinking, never mind be toasting almost nine months off the grog.

What’s helped on my sober journey of discovery has been the inspiration of others. My mate Keith (pictured above) has been a drinking buddy of mine since the early 1990s.

He packed in the booze more than two years ago. When the world went into lockdown and seemed to increase alcohol consumption, Keith was kicking it all into touch. He’s not looked back.

Keith will tell you life is better without the drink. That abstaining can improve all aspects of your life.

But not everyone will be as supportive as Keith.

In the last year I’ve had all sorts thrown at me: “Dickie – have a proper drink! Are you still not drinking? Isn’t it all a bit boring? Can’t you just moderate?”.

Oh just F*** OFF!

Sobriety sometimes feels like swimming against a tide of objection.

I’m starting to like the constant opposition. It makes my sobriety feel quite rebellious.

Going against the grain takes a bit of sturdy resolve and a ‘fuck the world’ mentality.

I’ve been in social settings where I have been the only one non drinking. And I’ve had a great time.

They key is knowing when to slip away before the same person tells you the same story four times.

Drinking is such a key component of British culture that people can’t possibly comprehend that you don’t want to do it.

It is the only drug you have to justify not-taking.

We drink at christenings, weddings, funerals. Had a bad day? Drink! Celebrating something? Drink!

In airports at 7am we sup laughably expensive lager because “we are on our holidays”.

We drink pints before the football, because that’s what we do.

We need pints at a gig because it “will make the music sound even better”.

And everyone is just totally fine with it all because it’s only “alcoholics” that have a problem and not us “normal drinkers”.

You’re either a ‘raging alcoholic’ or ‘absolutely fine’ with booze. There is no middle ground.

But there is a middle ground and it’s so wide and expansive it has its own label.

‘Gray area drinking” is the murky space somewhere between social and destructive drinking. You might ‘just’ drink once a week. But if that is having an impact on your wellbeing you might want to look at it.

Surely sobriety should be viewed as a positive health step like quitting sugar, going vegetarian or stopping smoking?

But people often think I’m from Mars when I tell them I don’t drink: “What the hell can possibly be wrong with him?”

In the last eight months I have not missed alcohol one bit.

Well, maybe a tad, and only in select moments: Sat at a little restaurant in a square by Lake Como – it felt like the Italian red wine was calling me. I went for a walk and bought some fresh strawberries instead.

And then at a wedding, finding a glass of champagne waiting for me…Again, I managed to swerve it.

The key shift is when your mindset changes from feeling you are ‘missing out’ to realising you are making a huge gain.

There are some wide-eyed-moments when you go sober. Some people refer to a “Pink Cloud” of happiness.

The obvious benefits include: better sleep, better skin, saved money, no hangovers. You can kiss goodbye to throwing-up in fast food restaurants. Other positive gains include an inner calm, better confidence levels and a sense of achievement.

The best thing for me is a feeling of all-around wellbeing. And as time flies by, sobriety is a nice slow-lane to be in.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so creative in my life. Projects which were a pipe dream while drinking are now underway.

I love music and sober gigs have been a revelation.

There’s no cramming booze in pre-gig or having to make constant treks to the loo or bar.

How must it feel to miss your favourite song because you are busy queuing for booze?

My sobriety finally feels like growing up (aged 49) but it’s also giving me more teenage kicks than I could have ever imagined.

When The Cure appeared at Glasgow Hydro recently I queued for four hours outside the venue in freezing temperatures to ensure I got near the front. During that gig I felt 17 again.

Dreaming and dancing with one of music’s great icons just yards in front of me. To experience that unfiltered by seven pints was a revelation.

The are cries of derision among some pals who cannot understand my sobriety.

I’ve no issue with people drinking if that’s what they want to do. So why take issue with my sobriety?

A recent trip to Ireland and I was amazed to find my hotel serving 0.0% Guinness and it tastes amazing.

There are some brilliant 0.0% beers appearing all the time.

Away from the sneers there are voices coming out the woodwork from friends, acquaintances and complete strangers telling me they are concerned about their drinking.

If you are interested in sobriety there are tons of online sober communities out there where sober brothers and sisters sip 0.0% in solidarity.

At a time when our health and wellbeing is more important than ever, this sober movement will get much stronger.

Like reading? Try Annie Grace’s ‘This Naked Mind’ or Catherine Gray’s ‘The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober’.

A recent release is David Wilson’s ‘One For The Road’. Dave – more commonly known as ‘Sober Dave’ has an amazing podcast – check him out on instagram here:

Why don’t you give Dry January a whirl? Who knows where it might take you?

I love weekend breakfasts nowadays.

A clear head, Sunday papers, a garden centre cafe, smashed avocado on toasted sourdough, topped with toasted seeds and watercress.

And absolutely no spewing in the bogs…