Tag: nightclubs

I Followed My Gut and Gave Up Alcohol at 17. I Wasn’t Prepared for What Happened Next

I stopped drinking before it was legal to start. 

I remember the moment vividly. I was 17 and in a nightclub that turned a blind eye to underage drinking. 

It was about 2 hours into the night and I was with a group of friends from school. I’d had one drink, possibly two, and was making my way to the bar for another when a thought suddenly flashed through my mind, “I don’t need to drink.”

Where did it come from?

At the time, I wasn’t sure. However, I now know it was my soul, communicating a message. 

“I don’t need to drink.”

The thought repeated itself but I didn’t need to be told twice. I knew I didn’t need to drink. Afterall, I’d never enjoyed it. 

The Fake Drinker  

My drinking career was short lived. 

I changed school at 16 and, as a way to fit in with my new classmates and the rugby team, began drinking at the weekend. 

This would usually start with a local pub on a Friday night. 50% of the clientele must have been underage but the management didn’t seem to care (this was the late 90s and underage drinking in pubs was rife). Then, on a Saturday, after our big game, we’d congregate at the rugby club in the evening to down a few pints (or more).

Occasionally, we’d also go to a nightclub and, in the summer before I gave up drinking, I went on a lads holiday to Magaluf, Majorca. This was a week of partying, drinking and staying out till 5am. However, I had a secret. 

Not once on this holiday did I get drunk. 

My friends did, every night, and somehow had the energy to rinse and repeat the next day. But I didn’t. In fact, I was a phony. 

I couldn’t stand the taste of beer so I avoided it. Instead, I had to fake my way through the evening with a series of strategically consumed shots (far enough apart not to get drunk yet consumed visibly enough for my friends not to ask questions). 

Why go to all this effort?

I wanted to be a part of the fun everyone seemed to be having yet, at the same time, I didn’t really enjoy what we were doing. Not only did I dislike the taste of most alcoholic drinks, I also hated the effect they had on my body and mind. 

Alcohol is a depressant. It should drain your energy and leave you feeling a bit sleepy. Ironically, though, it’s considered a social lubricant and the drug of choice for having a good time.

This status is probably due to its ability to supress systems in the brain linked to inhibition and self-control. For most, this then sets free their unfiltered self – the one they spend most of their working week hiding.  

For me, though, this wasn’t the case. Alcohol made me subdued and sleepy, sluggish and conscious that I was losing control. As a result, I became quieter rather than more gregarious. 

To avoid this from happening, I secretly limited my drinking while pretending to keep pace with my friends.

This pattern lasted for a year and a few months until I had my nightclub revelation.

A Moment of Inspiration  

“I don’t need to drink anymore.”

So, I stopped. Right there and then, I continued to the bar but just ordered water. 

Then I took my drink to a small, circular table, perched myself on a bar chair and felt a wave of euphoria flow through me. 

It’s hard to overstate the strength of this feeling. It was like I’d opened up a channel to the divine. 

In retrospect, I understand that feeling as an awareness that I no longer had to conform to the societal expectations influencing me to drink. 

I didn’t enjoy doing it so why keep pretending? Furthermore, the “high” that accompanied my decision convinced me that everything was going to be great. 

Or was it?

A Failure to Commit 

Unfortunately, my state of euphoria was short lived. It stayed with me that night and into the next day but then disappeared. 

I stuck to my decision, though, not touching a drop of alcohol for the next 9 years. However, I didn’t live life in the spirit of my nightclub revelation. 

That moment was about liberation and being happy as my authentic self. However, my reality as a non-drinker was isolation, resentment of my peers and self-doubt.

This happened slowly, at first. 

For the first year, I still went out to pubs and, occasionally, night clubs. I just didn’t drink. However, it wasn’t long before the cracks appeared.

First, I had to explain to my friends why I was no longer drinking. They couldn’t believe that I could just give up. They thought I must be stopping for health reasons and were constantly trying to tempt me with pints (as if I was desperately fighting the urge to drink so I could maintain my abs).

Interrogation from my friends wasn’t the real issue, though, as it was the questions in my own mind that bothered me the most . 

At that time in the UK, alcohol was the substance that facilitated late teenage social life. Without me drinking, and going along with the crowd, I started to question everything. 

• What was so fun about going to nightclubs where you had to shout to be heard?
• Was a night out really worth feeling shit, and not being able to do anything, the next day?
• Was it no longer possible for us to socialise in ways that didn’t involve alcohol?

The more I asked these questions, and could find no satisfactory answer, the more I withdrew. By the time I got to university, I didn’t socialise at all. 

This would have been ok if I’d found something better to do or had joined a different group and socialised in another way. However, the UK around the year 2000 was a monoculture when it came to socialising (or at least it seemed that way).  

You either got wasted or you did nothing at all. 

This made me feel like I was missing out. Part of me wanted to be like everyone else, and have fun the way they did, but my body and spirit wouldn’t let me. 

As a result, I grew resentful. I couldn’t understand why everyone went along with the crowd. Surely a few of them felt the same as me? Why was I the only one who had to suffer?  

This sad state of affairs caused me to miss out on so much in my late teens and 20s. 

Looking back now, though, I realise that it didn’t have to be this way. 

Follow your Gut  

Despite the isolation that giving up alcohol led to, I don’t for one moment doubt the legitimacy of the initial revelation and euphoria I experienced. 

It was my soul speaking to me, letting me know there was a different path. However, I just wasn’t brave enough, open minded enough or creative enough, to walk it. 

That’s why I’m writing this blog post. 

If you’ve ever felt different, or rejected some part of mainstream culture, I want you to have the confidence to follow your gut. 

Don’t be like me and take half measures. 

Sure, I stopped drinking after a moment of inspiration, but I didn’t embrace the potentially exciting path it opened up. 

Instead of ruing the fact that I didn’t fit in, and wishing I could be like everyone else, I should have embraced my differences and asked some empowering questions.

• What social activities did I still enjoy that didn’t involve alcohol?
• Could I have embraced my teetotaller status and been remarkable rather than recluse?
• Was there a way to go to pubs and nightclubs on my own terms (perhaps do it less often but commit to the experience fully when I went)?
• Could I have been proud of who I was and believed in myself more?

These are the questions I never asked. Instead, I resented the world for not operating in a way that included me. 

Don’t make this mistake. 

If you’ve ever had a revelation that puts you on a different path, trust it completely. 

The excitement is there for a reason. You’re being invited into a life far richer than most ever experience. It would be a mistake to reject this calling because the crowd are doing something else. 

CONCLUSION 

What happened next?

The observant among you will note that I only gave up alcohol for 9 years. Did I then reverse my decision and end up “having it” every weekend?

No. 

To this day, I barely drink. I might have one glass of wine with a meal out or a cocktail at the beach when I’m on holiday. That’s the extent of my drinking and I’m at peace with that. 

I’ve discovered that I don’t need to socialise the way most other people do. In fact, I’m not very sociable.

Don’t get me wrong, I love connecting with other people, I just don’t want to do it in conventionally recognised ways (or at least not in ways that make me feel shit the next day). 

So, it’s taken me a while but I did eventually embrace the path my revelation revealed. I hope this blog post has given you the courage to do the same (just don’t take so damn long about it!)

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If you want to discover a passion you can make a living from and overcome the fears that are holding you back, check out my free course 30 Days to Escape The System. Click here to get the course right now! (You’ll find the tips on developing belief and self-confidence fascinating!)