[MAX VULNERABILITY ALERT]
As I reboot my life (context here), I’m reviewing my old hopes and dreams — too many of which have been set aside over time — and then checking my behavior for alignment with them.
(“Alignment” gets way overused as a business buzzword, but I riffed on its authentic use in this Twitter thread.)
Examples:
- I’ve recently declined to bid on some client jobs that I realized weren’t right for me, even though a one-man LLC like me is almost always looking for the next gig.
- I recently donated a huge pile of books to the local library, even though I’ve already culled hundreds of books from my shelves over the past few years.
- Yesterday I started Instagramming the discards from my old files of draftwork.
The client from #1 wasn’t a bad client — just the wrong client for me at this point in my life. Same with the books from #2 and the draft from #3. Actually, no, that draft wasn’t great at all, but the point remains that it was time to move on from it.
In every case, it’s about discarding what’s not helping you. Which brings me to booze.
I’m not what I would call a “problem drinker,” much less an alcoholic. I never, ever get wasted, and in fact I’m safe to drive 99.95% of the time — with that occasional 0.05% coming when I’m safe at home at the end of the day with nowhere to go.
And yet . . .
Over the past couple of years, three different people I trust have expressed concern that I’m a little too quick to go for another round, or to top up that Manhattan. It’s an easy thing to do: I buy good booze, and I make good drinks. I have many friends who like craft cocktails and craft beer like I do, and it’s great to connect with them over a drink.
But in the course of my working days, I’m often alone, and when you’re working from a home office it’s very easy to start happy hour at 4:00 p.m. instead of 5:00, and to pour that second round before dinnertime arrives. And then maybe a nightcap. And it’s even easier when you feel sad and tired.
I think that drinking has cost me a fair bit. I don’t lavish funds on any one bottle — $30 is typically my limit — but it does add up, week in and week out. And it costs me even more when it erodes my work productivity.
So earlier today I went downstairs, poured out all of my mixing booze and all of my beer, and took the picture you see above. There was no great plan for this in place, and it wasn’t some decision that had been plaguing me. It just felt like it was time, you know?
I have happy hour drinks scheduled with friends for each of the next three days, and I’ll happily have a pint of something good — but just the one — when I’m with them. You better believe that next time I’m in New York I’ll be hitting up Attaboy or The Dead Rabbit.
But for now: not at home. Not by myself. I have too much work to do to write this novel, reshape my body (those liquid calories weren’t helping), reorient my career, and reboot my life. I feel lighter already.
Is there something you’re ready to cast aside, something that’s been weighing you down?
What’s stopping you?
