Eight hundred and fifty. That’s the number of days since I stopped drinking alcohol. Fittingly, today is also the end of January - a month where many people decide to hop on the trend of ‘dry January’. Initially, I thought about writing a blog post before this month, to possibly inspire people to take a potentially uncomfortable, brave step to stop drinking alcohol in January. However, I chose against doing so. Why? I believe that any big decision in life is made when and only when the stars align and the time is right. Yes, perhaps some inspiration from someone who’s taken the step will help push someone over the threshold to take their own step; however, from experience, it still happens only when the universe wants it to. Maybe you’ve hit rock bottom, or you’re finding yourself hungover one too many times a week. Maybe it’s more subtle, and you’ve realised the inessentiality of alcohol to live a meaningful life. Or perhaps you’ve noticed that it does not serve you, does not allow you to be who you really are - to express yourself without judgment or pressure to fit in. Or maybe you just want to save some money. These are all valid and legitimate reasons to finally turn your back on booze.

Given that it’s the last day of January, I felt inclined to write another post about sobriety. I do not wish to impose my beliefs about alcohol on anyone, but simply to narrate my experience and my learnings, for I know that reading about others’ experiences was a big inspiration for me. Maybe you stopped drinking for the month, but plan to start again as soon as the clock hits midnight tonight. That’s OK. But I wanted to share some things that might allow you to take a moment to step back and reflect. To take a look into your core, your true Self, and to see whether alcohol serves you. It did not serve me, and I vividly remember my realisation that I did not need alcohol in my life during a formal dinner on the 4th of October, 2023. It wasn’t a eureka moment. Things had mulched over time in the back of my mind. However, it’s telling that I remember this date just as well as I remember my birthday. It was the only decision, the only path to take. One that has, without a doubt, transformed my life and shaped who I am today. For I cannot be grateful enough for how many opportunities have presented themselves in the midst of my sobriety. But maybe it’s just a coincidence? Perhaps they would have arisen anyway. But I’m no gambling man, so I’d rather stay on this side of the pond. Because it’s entirely possible to paint, to be an artist, without a pint. In fact, I only really started painting once I dropped the pints.

You might be thinking what all this stuff about paint and painting is. Well, I’m a person who likes analogies, because I think they allow for some separation between the concept and understanding, letting one synthesise and interpret something in one context, before applying it to another. It also helps to get people, myself included, to think. This concept of painting came to me only this morning, but I’m going to go with it anyway and see what comes out of it. I’ll use a short story to do so, starting off with a storm.

Painting in a storm

There was this young person who grew up participating in lots of creative pursuits, spending a lot of time playing and running around with friends. One of these was painting, being a fan of watercolour painting. He continued into his high-school years; however, nearing the end of his time at school, his friends began turning to a supposed elixir that takes life to the next level. The young person liked the sound of this. He’d slowly seen some of his hobbies and creative passions slip away as the collective momentum moved towards this elixir. In the evenings on weekends, his friends would meet to share this elixir, and the following morning was sorted for them. A morning of fogginess and cloudiness - highly appropriate for a Sunday. After all, the Bible states that it’s a day for rest, right? The young man felt the pull to be part of this procession. He’d started feeling left out, so he felt like it was his only choice. He was now an adult, meaning that he had the freedom to buy and use this elixir whenever he wanted.

Roll on a couple of years, and the person’s life had become unrecognisable to the one he had during his school years. Hobbies had dwindled. Mornings out playing football had been replaced by these sacred rest periods following the consumption of too much elixir the night before. Evenings playing board games and listening to music with friends still happened, but the person’s recollection of them was misty, with only faint details left in their mind, often overwhelmed by more explicit details of the elixir’s consequences. Simultaneously, his watercolour paintings were becoming worse; changing. However, in the midst of the busyness of life, he denied that this dwindling creativity could be associated with the elixir, preferring instead to allow this new style of painting to become the norm. For years, things continued like this, knowing deep down that something didn’t feel right, but still caught up in the collective inertia of the status quo. He’d been in the storm long enough to forget what life was like before entering the storm.

But the transition from painting on a clear day to painting in a storm is a subtle one. That’s what gives the storm great strength to keep pulling you in. This man’s paintings had become dull, superficial, lacking in depth - mirroring the rest of his life. Mundanity and routine had taken over, and he was ready to kick back and accept that this is the artist that he would be for the rest of his life.

However, at the beginning of the year, his friends decided that they would travel for a month. The problem was that there would be no elixir where they were travelling. They’d have to cope without it for a whole month. The young man showed slightly more enthusiasm towards this than his friends, as he was aware that his life had changed since starting to drink the elixir; he just didn’t know exactly how. Before heading on the trip, he went to his art supplies cupboard to get some paint and canvases to take on his travels. When looking in the cupboard, he caught a glimpse of a painting dated a few years prior, from his time at school. Initially, he was perplexed and confused. He did not recognise the painting as his own and thought that perhaps someone had planted it there. But, upon further inspection, he realised that it was, in fact, his past work. Next to it lay a more recent painting, showing little resemblance to the older one. It was duller, less detailed, less vibrant, lacking in creativity - portraying a sense of abruptness, impatience, and chaos. There was a clear contrast with the older painting, which was full of life, detail, creativity, passion, and expression. He longed to be able to paint like this again. He missed it. Anyway, there was no time for reflection and introspection as they were about to head off on their travels.

The young man headed on his travels with his friends. They were excited, but also disappointed and deflated that they would not be able to drink the magic elixir that had been such an integral part of their lives. What would they do without it, they thought. The first few days went by, a little bit of a struggle. They did not know what to do with themselves in the evenings at first, and did not know what to do with the extra time that they now had on their hands in the mornings. To add to this, after the first few days, their sleep was better, so they felt restless and over-energised. Conversations were more difficult as they required a deeper level of listening and understanding than what they were used to when drinking the elixir. The problem now was that they had little to talk about that contained any real depth. They just wanted to go back home. To be able to hit the elixir again. To return to normality and routine.

At the same time, the young man decided that he’d put some of his time to good use, picking up his canvas and paint to do some painting. But something felt strange. He felt unsettled and uneasy, and was sure that if he only had the elixir available to him, he’d relax and ease into painting like Picasso. However, a couple of days passed, and towards the end of the week, he started to gain some clarity of thought and, importantly, the energy and creativity to start painting again. Since he had more time on his hands, he felt no hurry to paint. He took his time, allowing for pauses now and then to reflect, to think, to be. Strangely, he felt a sense of not knowing where to start - what colours, brush, and paint to use. This was an unfamiliar sense of abundance and choice that he had not experienced since his time in school. Since he painted the painting that shook him before his travels. With this newfound clarity and time, he sat patiently, thinking carefully about what to paint.

Towards the end of the week, he and his friends began feeling a little lost, but, interestingly, also full of choice. They noticed the surfboards and the bikes in the garage, the board games under the coffee table, the trails weaving through the woods, and the food sat in the fridge. Things that were waiting for them. Things that they used to do when they were young. They felt a little overwhelmed by choice, but they also felt like they had more clarity of thought, so they were able to sit and have constructive conversations to figure out what they’d like to spend their time doing. During the second week, in the mornings they hopped on the bikes and headed to the beach to read, and in the evenings they often cooked a meal together and played some board games. Their conversations were more fruitful, for they had more to talk about, despite the absence of the elixir that they previously thought necessary.

Alongside this, the young man continued to paint every day. Slowly, the creative juices were beginning to flow again. Flowing smoother that he ever remembered them. The painting was taking shape. It contained small details and colours that he didn’t know he was able to paint. He’d shaken off the first week or so of feeling lost and overwhelmed with thought and choice, and was able to calmly paint with newfound creativity. This continued for the last couple of weeks of the holiday. He, along with the rest of his friends, felt lighter, healthier, less tired, more creative, and full of conversation. There were still times of tension and dispute; however, they felt as if the nature of the storm that they were previously living in had changed. It had changed from one of persistent haziness and large extremes to one that only entered from time to time, being more subtle when doing so.

On the last evening of their travels, the group of friends sat around the fire to reflect on their time together. They all knew that they felt remarkably different now compared to the first day of their trip, but they also found it difficult at times to understand why. However, the young man who had been painting for the past month had an insight to share. He’d noticed his painting improve, his creativity re-emerge. After the initial increase in the strength of the storm, he’d noticed that things improved. His paintings were more full of life. He found joy in this old hobby of his again. He added a useful analogy to help explain, saying that it was as if he had been painting in a storm that he was unaware of. His canvases had been morphed and masked, and distorted by the rains and the winds that the incessant storms brought with them. He had to use most of his energy to simply put paint and a brush to canvas. Now, however, he explained how it felt like he had started to come out of the storm. The canvas was becoming clearer, just like his mind. The others nodded and agreed, for they could relate to his analogy. They realised that they had long been living in a way that numbed their senses and experience of life. That created a seemingly comfortable monotony and ignorance that they did not need to do any hard work to confront. However, their trip had made them realise that they too had been painting in a storm, just in a different way. Their newfound time and energy had allowed them to do things that they’d long missed, but brushed away in pursuit of the ubiquitous elixir. They still stayed up late on the weekends, but their blurred experiences were now substituted for one’s of depth and quality. They had started moving away from the eye of the storm. Exploring the expansiveness of painting outside of this storm.

One thing was certain, though. This glimpse that they’d had of a different way, a different path, was something that they wished to delve deeper into. However, they knew that upon returning home, to the place where elixir is the answer to everything, they may have to start painting on a different canvas. One that aligned with their true selves and beliefs. One that served them.

Painting on the wrong canvas

After arriving home, the young man who enjoyed painting decided that he wanted to continue exploring what living without the elixir would be like. However, with the clarity that he now had, he realised that the canvas that he had been painting on was subpar. There were other canvases that he’d seen in the art shop that would certainly help facilitate better paintings, so he decided to head down to the shop to buy a few of them. This also helped him continue with his painting hobby, as he’d been painting on old canvases that reminded him of his old painting style, his old ways. But it wasn’t just these physical canvases that needed to change. He also realised that, having stopped drinking the elixir, the canvas of his life had started to naturally change in places, but would also require some deliberate changes too. For he had been painting on the canvas that society allowed him to so easily do, the one which allowed conformity.

Some of his relationships, he noticed, were not as fruitful and meaningful as he’d once thought. In the absence of the elixir, he’d changed how he spent his time, as new parts of the canvas of life began revealing themselves. He had started painting on different canvases altogether in both his life and his painting. Hobbies that he’d been putting off trying for a while became accessible as he had more time and energy, so he joined the local hill walking club and started to invest time in this. Slowly, his group of friends started to shift. Some of those who had been on the holiday at the start of the year had kept off the elixir, but most of them had settled back into their default lives. He felt no need to change anyone else, for he knew that one cannot do that. Instead, some of his friends started to drift away, but he felt OK about this, as he was now more able to invest time into developing deeper relationships with the people that mattered most to him. The people who liked him simply for who he was.

The structure of his days had started shifting too, as if the new canvas of life was bigger and more interesting than the old one. He had time to devote to practices to better himself in the mornings and to help others in the evenings. Time that he previously spent trying to fit in whilst drinking the elixir. He was often still around others, drinking the elixir, and started to grow in self-confidence by doing so. In a good way, as he was now having to face and tackle the insecurities that he’d previously been tucking away and using the elixir to mask. But, these nights were now only a feature of his life. A speck of paint on a canvas so abundant in other features.

Despite a change in his metaphorical canvas of life and the literal canvas that he painted on, the young man was often still trying to use the same tools to perform his art. He was still constraining himself to the status quo, much of which was built around and operated around the abundant elixir. This brought with it some difficulties, as he often found himself in the midst of situations where the elixir was the focal point. Likewise, as he’d not explored other ways of applying himself and of meeting others, he often felt a little captive and isolated, questioning whether his decision was the right one. In his painting, he realised that he’d continued using his old watercolour paints, his old brushes, restricting his expression and art. Just like the rest of his life, he now realised that he was painting with the wrong tools. A new canvas has little use with old tools; old habits and traits.

Painting with the wrong tools

Some time had passed since the young man’s holiday when he first stopped drinking the elixir. Things hadn’t been easy the whole way. There had been some ups and downs, just like there always are in a life well lived, but he had managed to view them from a place of deeper clarity and calmness. He was beginning to act from his heart. From where his values lie. He started becoming a better person. Now he wanted to see how he could change his toolbox. He decided that he’d put himself out there a little more and open his eyes to all of the amazing opportunities and experiences that the world has to offer. But he also realised that much inner work had to be done too, for this was a necessary component in facing some of the troubles that he was avoiding by drinking the elixir.

Over the next few months to years, he tried new things out. Not all of them hit the spot. Dancing was fun, but he felt like it wasn’t for him. He kept up the painting and decided to join a local group of painters. It was a good way to learn from others and to socialise in an inclusive space. This allowed him to meet new people and step outside of his comfort zone. He’d stopped trying to please people and fit in when it didn’t align with who he was; his ability to do so was helped by some new tools. He became more in touch with his mind and his body, and also with nature. He became more connected to others, to the people closest to him. In his painting, his new brushes and paint allowed him to express himself through his art in a way that he had never done. Bringing new colours and textures together to create a beautiful dance on the canvas. He also realised that his canvas of life was one that he could now explore with a new sense of excitement, for his new tools opened up many new doors.

His friends were beginning to notice changes too: a shift in his hobbies, how he spent his time, and who he spent his time with. But these came naturally to the young man, for he now knew that he was acting from a place of far greater purity than before. He stopped worrying as much about petty things, allowing life to unfold by itself, but being intentional at the same time.

Over the next few years, his style changed. Both in his painting and life. He moved further away from the artist that he once thought he would be for the rest of his life. Reflecting back, he noticed just how much had changed since that first trip without elixir with his friends. Just like when he first entered the storm that captivated him for years, exiting it possessed its own equal subtlety. However, he, without a doubt, knew that the life that he now led was a better, more honest, and pure one. His paintings started getting some attention, for his creativity was free to be expressed. In the rest of his life, he developed a quite sense of internal contentment in knowing that he did not need the elixir to live a meaningful life. But, instead of preaching to a choir, he chose to be reserved. Living a life aligned with his values. Leading by example by showing, not telling.

Slowly, just like the Picassos of the art world, his work and philosophy began to dissipate and spread. Like a ripple spreads in a pool from only the smallest drop of rain. He simply hoped, deep inside, that others would allow that tiny drop to drop into the pond that is life and to radiate, ripple after ripple, across society. He hoped that people would be given the opportunity to realise what painting can really be like if they step out of the storm. He knew that, for many, this action and that of discovering new canvases and tools to express oneself as an artist would be incredibly transformative.

For now, he resided back in his chair, appreciating and showing gratitude towards the beauty and love that radiated in his new painting; for he now knew the power of painting with no pint.

I hope you enjoyed this short story. I had fun writing it. It’s fictional, however, I’ve tried to tie in some things that I’ve learned since becoming sober. It’s also not a narrative of my own journey, but there are elements of it that I’ve drawn upon when writing this. My hope is that, just like the young man in the story, I can share the joy that leading a sober life brings. I hope you enjoyed reading.