Around Town: Mike marks one year sober on Jan. 1

When I woke up the morning of Jan. 1, 2023 I looked at pictures from the night before.

While I liked the shirt I picked out to celebrate New Year’s Eve, and the friends I celebrated with were fantastic, I couldn’t help but notice my round face, puffy eyes and lackluster expressions. I know to most I looked normal and fine, but I saw something different when perusing the plethora of photos. I didn’t like how I looked. It’s vain, I know, but sometimes vanity is the impetus for change.

Thus began a yearlong journey of sobriety that I didn’t initially plan for or expect. The main question that people have asked me in the last year when they’ve seen me out and about, but not drinking cocktails, is “why?” Why can’t you just have one? Why can’t you just cut back a little? Why can’t you still have that wine with dinner? These are all fair questions, so I am explaining my “why” today. And if my “why” helps anyone else facing the same challenges, then I’ll be extra happy.

Let me fill you in.

I had time off from work around the holidays last year and had been drinking heavily the days leading up to New Year’s Eve. What in years past had been evening holiday libations had turned into afternoon cocktails, shots and beers that carried into nighttime to celebrate the season, so I was practically drinking 10 hours per day for nearly two weeks leading up to Dec. 31.

By New Year’s Eve I was exhausted and filled with angst. I remember feeling upset with myself because, while the holiday celebrating was fun, I had overdone it and taken my drinking to new levels. The New Year’s Eve pictures confirmed I’d lost the sparkle in my eyes, and it showed in my face and physique too.

I woke up with a slight headache and was a bit dehydrated, but nothing that a bottle of water and some Gatorade couldn’t cure, as it had so many other mornings.

This morning was different though. The pictures told a story of someone haggard and tired; someone I didn’t recognize.

I’d always been a “Good Morning America” watcher in the mornings and with medical correspondent Dr. Jen Ashton talking about Dry January for a few weeks and her social media posts – and others – filling my social media feeds that morning, I hatched a plan right there in bed.

If I could adopt the Dry January philosophy as well, I would have a framework to follow to stop drinking for a month and get my appearance back on track. After all, people across the country do Dry January every year to cleanse their bodies and feel better, so it was something I could get behind with thousands of other people.

It would be tough, though.

Drinking was a huge part of my life. I used to joke that growing up in an Irish family, it was par for the course, but over the years I began to realize there were actual reasons at play, most notably intense anxiety that escalated slowly as years went on. In working with my doctor, a life coach and others over the last year, I’ve identified that as a root cause to my increased drinking over time. I numbed and self-medicated my insecurities for years, especially as I became more of a public person and took on additional responsibilities throughout my life. Drinking was always a safe haven for me and something I retreated to in the evenings.

I’d always been anxious and felt panicked easily, but I just dealt with and accepted the fluttery-heart feelings and concerns in my mind. It wasn’t until I turned 21 and could walk into a bar that I really started seeing how a magic potion – Tanqueray and tonic with lime at the time – could ease any unrest or nervousness I felt in life, while expanding my social circle at the same time. It was a win-win. While I drank in college, those were small parties with the same people I saw in classes; this was a whole new world, and I was off to the races.

After a hard day’s work, it was my normal routine to unwind at local watering holes, which if I’m being honest I did almost nightly for more than a decade. Although, I almost always went home at a reasonable hour and got ample rest in advance of the next day (as a perfectionist, my career and work responsibilities were always top of mind even when beers were going down the smoothest). Weekends were a whole different story, though, because they afforded me the luxury of time. I could spend time with various groups of people at multiple bars, house parties or events, so noone ever saw the totality of my consumption. That’s how I wanted it.

It was never just a beer or two; my idea of unwinding was roughly eight beers per sitting with some shots of vodka or whiskey for good measure. Of course I usually drank fun, flavored vodka mixed with some Red Bull so it’s not like I was downing straight Tito’s. That was seemingly more acceptable in my twisted mind.

My drinking was very social, too. I almost always drank with other people, was dressed well and could make stellar conversation, or so I thought.

Over the years I chalked my drinking up to just a normal part of my life. I was social, interested in others, loved life and enjoyed being around people. Right?

I never fathomed not drinking while I did all this socializing. Because of my anxiety, which worsened over the years thanks in part to the drinking, I still thought I needed all of those drinks. It made conversation easier and made any difficult situation or life event seem not as bad. I certainly never thought that drinking was doing me a disservice by muddling my memory, causing me to forget key parts of conversations, adding to my anxiousness or affecting my health significantly, but it was.

As I laid in bed the morning of Jan. 1, 2023, I thought about many of those situations over the years: the forgetting conversations, the hangovers that I mustered all my energy to power through and the changes to my body, including extremely high blood pressure that I battled off and on, but could never fully conquer thanks to the drinking.

I also thought about how much better I felt in 2019 when I had quit for four months. I was in the best shape of my life, felt incredible, bought a house and was in the best space ever.

This time around I initially told people it was only for the month. By joining a movement like Dry January, I had something to strive for and talk about, so I didn’t feel bad saying “no” to beers, as I was working towards a goal and would be back to “normal” soon.

Even though I said I was just giving it up for a month, I think deep down I knew my drinking days were over.

At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself at night, and I experienced mild withdrawal symptoms which I treated with exercise, a new nutritional plan and early bedtimes. Those things softened my mood and kept me on track. My body was so used to ingesting the alcohol, and I’m grateful the withdrawal symptoms like headaches and mood changes weren’t worse.

I realize now that I probably should have consulted a doctor or medical expert rather than do it myself. For anyone considering abruptly stopping using a substance, I recommend consulting a medical professional.

Still, I am an extremely committed person, so some mild pain would not stand in my way of achieving a goal.

When I stopped drinking in 2019, there were no real drink alternatives when out at a bar. If you didn’t drink alcohol you stood out like a sore thumb, so I had intense anxiety about going out in 2023 – at first.

The first few weeks in January 2023 when I met some friends at bars, which I vowed to continue doing to keep up my social life, were tricky.

Thankfully, though, I discovered Heineken 0.0 (a non-alcoholic beer packaged in a regular-looking beer bottles that some restaurants and bars carry) and also club soda with a drop of Bitters for flavor.

They both became my go-to beverages, allowing me to blend in with all the other drinkers so that people didn’t begin asking why I wasn’t drinking, which I knew would stir up a range of emotions.

When February and March came, I was feeling so strong and healthy that I couldn’t bear putting booze back into my body. I was lifting heavy weights again, my nutrition was on point, I had lost that extra weight in my face and was enjoying participating in a writing course at a local university, so I opted to continue my alcohol-free journey.

Some of my closest friends were shocked; some of them thought I couldn’t do it. I had doubts myself, but over time it got easier, and I began to really embrace the non-alcohol lifestyle.

On St. Patrick’s Day weekend (usually my favorite weekend of the year), I was steadfast in my decision to still attend the Downtown Wilkes-Barre festivities.

I stayed out for about four hours that day, sipping Heineken 0.0 and club soda and bouncing around to multiple bars with friends. I enjoyed conversing with everyone, seeing the outfits and reveling in the holiday, but at a certain point I knew when it was time for me to go home.

The best part, though, is that I was able to drive home – something I hadn’t done in years after an event like a parade day.

Driving home became a regular feeling of accomplishment the rest of the year. No longer did I need to search for an Uber or barter with a friend for a ride. I could drive myself home at any hour.

Once my birthday came around in June, I was feeling confident that this lifestyle change was something I was sticking with. If I could survive St. Patrick’s Day out in Wilkes-Barre without real beer, I could survive anything, I thought.

For my birthday on June 11, friends started messaging me to make plans for drinks and celebrations. I appreciated their sentiments, but instead got the idea to do a birthday fundraiser on Facebook, encouraging anyone who wanted to take me for a drink to put the money towards Junior Achievement of Northeastern Pennsylvania instead.

I ended up raising a little more than $1,000 for the cause, and it turned out to be a much more worthwhile way to celebrate.

As the months went on, I got more and more secure in my decision and began talking about it more.

I attended events like a weeklong work event in Manhattan, vacations to Atlantic City and Mexico, a winery weekend in Northern Virginia and even a beer and music festival in Bethel Woods, N.Y. I survived all of those occasions as everyone around me imbibed in libations. Truthfully, if you had told me in December 2022 that I could quit drinking and still have all those experiences, I would have absolutely said you were lying.

Drinking was a huge, huge part of my life. Beer, vodka, gin, whiskey, wine and more. I drank it all.

I’m certainly not advocating for people to quit drinking. For those who can drink in moderation and responsibly, good for you. This was simply the right decision for me.

I joke that I am not the best moderator, because once I am committed to something I go full force, whether it be work, relationships, nonprofits, television shows or drinking. I am 100% in.

So, for me to live as meaningful of a life as I wanted, I needed to be 100% out of the drinking game. I knew it in January 2023, but didn’t admit it to myself until a few months after I settled into my new way of life.

What about that nagging anxiety I told you about?

I still get it, but instead of self-medicating with alcohol, I work out every day (sometimes just a quick walk takes the edge off), focus on nutrition, read inspirational stories from others who’ve done something similar, do some journaling, work on my breathing and have adopted some gratitude practices.

Anxiety is something that will never go away, but it can be managed and dealt with in more mature ways than drinking. It took me many years to learn that, but I am grateful I did.

Tomorrow when I look back on the last year, I won’t think about everything I missed, because truly I didn’t miss much. I still experienced everything I would have before, but I did so with my memory intact, my wallet a little fuller and my blood pressure at normal levels.

It’s been an amazing journey for me – one I had attempted several times before, but never 100% committed to or that lasted this long.

And while it’s still challenging in some situations, I’m confident I’ve made the right choice for me at this point in my life.

I’m clearer, fresher, more confident and more at peace than I’ve ever been.

No matter what you’re trying to change in 2024, just take small steps. By setting a small, obtainable goal, I was able to achieve more than I ever imagined.

Those small steps could lead to everything you’ve been hoping for and more.

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Mike McGinley is a Times Leader columnist who is often called a man about town. Email him thoughts at mikejmcginley@gmail.com.