The void from booze
Sometimes we get a sign (literally) about the void…anddddd sometimes we don’t
When I started to examine my relationship to alcohol in January of 2019 I knew my life was going to change. That was after all, the whole point. I needed to make a (big) change and cutting booze was sure to change my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual health. What I wasn’t fully prepared for was the various voids this change would create. A void is often defined as “completely empty space.” In legal jargon, void means "no effect, something didn't actually happen or exist.” Well damn, this feels like I got called out.
The void that came from not drinking was quickly filled with questions:
Who was I without drinking? I had (intentionally or not) made “being a drinker” part of my personality.
Was I still cool if I wasn’t getting hammered like everyone else?
Do these people know how stupid they look staggering around, puking, making bad decisions, having regrets, etc
If I wasn't the wild / weird / crazy one in a group of friends, was I even still me?
How do I still show up in a world obsessed with drinking when I don’t drink?
Do people even still like me if I don’t want to drink. If would rather hike or read or color or stare at the clouds.
The void was big and it was weird. The void felt scary, what with the unknown and all. When things were swirling around me I still had some context, even if it was shitty context. With the void, I didn’t know where to stand, I didn’t have any footing in the empty space that was becoming my new reality.
When I stopped drinking the biggest voids came in two forms:
Time: I spent time going to the liquor store to get booze and the the time actually drinking. Then there was the time waiting in line at a bar or show to get booze (meaning I was missing something else) followed by the long bathroom line. What goes in must come out ya know. Finally, the biggest time void of all…the hangover. I was wasting time from being wasted. So although the hangover was a void (because I wasn't doing anything else) it also created a void where i was left to examine who I was without alcohol playing a big role i my life.
Energy: It took energy to drink. Especially on winter nights when I would have preferred to drink tea and read my book at home. I had to muster up energy to get showered, pick out clothes I actually left comfortable in, head out to the social situation and then deal with people that I knew were energy vampires . The vampires were the easiest part to cut because I left them feeling drained, disoriented and under nourished. I knew they had to go.
The void is something I have grown to love spiritually and emotionally in much the same way I love the wide expanse of the ocean or desert. The open space, the emptiness is pulsing with power. The vastness fills me with a sense of introspection in a way chaos never could. The abyss that was created without booze eventually receded to calmness, mindfulness and presence. Nature is, as always, our best and wisest teacher.
Without the need to run the liquor store or hours spent nursing a hangover, I had an unsettled feeling that I should be filling the time and energy voids. What a weird human behavior…the need to fill the void rather than simply allowing it to be there. I noticed that rather than noticing the void, I tried to fill it with all manner of behaviors and activities. Some of these were helpful: I read a ton, I went on more walks, I enjoyed solo Sundays of hiking in the woods. These were things I loved and now had the time and energy to do more of.
In the first year that I stopped drinking, I was afraid of the void because it represented darkness, stillness and other things culture tells me to distrust (including rest). My desire to fill the void with activities after giving up booze was in part due to extra energy but also to prove that I was doing something worthwhile. This is of course, the curse of capitalism, to prove that we are valuable, our time is well spent and we are contributing.
So one of the most powerful things I did was...nothing. Or at least try to do less. My initial inclination was to teach more yoga classes, run more miles, make more travel plans and cook allllll the soup. Now, rather than packing my schedule to the gills, I try to leave time, even small pockets, for mindfulness. This open expanse of the void doesn’t need to be filled, it can simply is. The void doesn’t have to be negative or positive, it doesn’t need a judgement. Rather, noticing the discomfort I feel when there is a void and breathing through that space has been hugely helpful. It allows me to go deeper, rather than trying to scamper back out of the void. Because on the other side of the void is the great fullness of who I really am.
Reflection questions:
Have you made a change to your behavior that created a void?
How do you respond to downtime (or a void of any sorts)? Do you try to fill it or can you allow it to be there?
Does your void grow or change based on your behaviors, those around you, seasons, money, etc?