My social life used to consist of heading down to the corner bar to see what or who was happening. Unfortunately, while I often found witty banter with strangers and friends alike, I also found the majority of my solace at the bottom of my glass. Hey, I lived within walking distance, so I was still responsible, right?
One too many headache-y and nauseous mornings started to leave me crying for a change. Most importantly of all, my soul was crying out for a genuine human connection, not the fabricated ones made at the bar through nothing but shared loneliness, boredom or depression. The problem was, without a bottle in front of me, I didn’t know how to act. I realised one day that I suddenly had no idea how to be social without booze, and I had to relearn the skill.
I was self-medicating my social anxiety with booze
As it turns out, I was using alcohol to self-medicate for social anxiety disorder (SAD). I discovered later in therapy that I wasn’t alone in my plight. Approximately 20% of people with this condition also suffer from alcohol dependence — and the correlation is most substantial in women.
When I decided to get sober, I suddenly found myself with a lot of time on my hands. While I formerly spent my evenings drinking, I had to find new ways to unwind and relax at the end of the workday. This problem proved the most challenging for me to fix.
Even though I’m pretty social when I drink, I am introverted by nature. I far prefer curling up on my couch with a good book to going out and mingling. That was one of the primary reasons I drank — it felt more natural to make small talk over a pint.
When I quit drinking, I started spending a lot of time at home at first, mostly to avoid temptation. I couldn’t isolate myself forever, though. I associated my favourite activity with enjoying a glass of wine, and to break that behavioural conditioning, I had to get out of the house.
Realising that I wasn’t alone in having a problem was a significant step to recovery for me. I did a lot of research and learned that SAD is actually a very common disorder that many people suffer from in silence. Over 30% of individuals with the condition experience symptoms for 10 or more years before seeking help. I didn’t want to become a part of that statistic, so I started getting involved in online sobriety groups. This helped me feel like I had a community behind me to support me.
I also threw myself into volunteer activities. I’ve long wanted a dog, but my lease doesn’t allow four-legged friends. So, I went to the local Humane Society and signed up to help walk the pooches there. That was the first step in breaking out of my shell. The folks I met were some of the kindest and most dedicated I’ve had the honour to know. I found myself making new friends who played a crucial role in transforming my life.
Overcoming social anxiety with CBT and meditation
One of my friends in my online support group suggested that I give cognitive-behavioural therapy a try. Before starting with my therapist, I envisioned counselling sessions differently. I imagined I’d lie on the couch and talk about my childhood. Instead, my therapist helped me identify the underlying irrational beliefs and thought patterns that made me avoid other human beings.
The techniques my therapist used also helped me to combat my urge to drink. One of my irrational beliefs was that nobody would like my intrinsic personality. I believed I was as dull as an old fencepost without a bit of sparkle from some bubbly. Through CBT, I had to relearn how to love myself. I learned to counter thoughts like, “I don’t have anything interesting to say,” with, “Everyone has their passions, and some people enjoy learning about mine.”
I also corrected my erroneous perception that alcohol made me witty. In reality, it didn’t improve my charm any more than it did my dancing ability. Indeed, the converse was too often true — I’d later feel embarrassed about my behaviour after one too many. I learned I wasn’t alone — the expectation of how drinking will affect people with the disorder drives many to the bottle.
During this time, I also began a practice of mindfulness meditation. This practice served as a complement to my CBT. However, I started it merely to have something to do to unwind from work. My previous choice after clocking out was to pour a glass of wine.
Through my practice of mindfulness, I learned to distance the emotional charge my thoughts had from the ideas themselves. I began thinking of the method as a fitness routine for my brain. If I found myself thinking before a party, “I don’t know anybody, and I am going to feel awkward,” I recognized my heart rate increasing and my palms growing sweaty. The thought evoked the emotion of fear. However, by divorcing that charge with countering thoughts like, “I don’t have to stay for long if I feel uncomfortable,” I could overcome my hesitancy.
Now, I’d never go back to drinking
My life has significantly improved since I quit self-medicating with alcohol and began seeking help. Today, I can’t imagine why anyone would drink to such excess that they wake up feeling lousy — even though I used to all the time. I keep my friendship circle small, but the relationships I have, I cherish. I’m happy in my sobriety and how far I’ve travelled to overcome my disorder. And I know that if I can change, anyone can.
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