The Problem With Moderation
It’s been said that the mind is a wonderful servant, but a terrible master. The seductive powers of alcohol and our selective amnesia to historical binges entice us ever so softly to patch things up with our tipple of choice.
Despite the fear kicking in, severe dehydration and a manner of ailments which form an orderly queue to greet our hungover selves, our solid resolve softens as senses slowly recover. The badge of honour, comparing hangovers and war stories with friends, connecting memory puzzle pieces of the night on the tiles, all par for the course post-session.
Days later, sleep cures all – the body replenishing nutrients lost in a whirlwind spree of drinking. Body and brain - finally rid of the poison - is a little coy in the face of another session.
Moderation. Sure, just a few drinks. Best of both worlds. Hair of the dog.
Wonderful servant. Terrible master. Like it or not, in that tug of war, the servant grows stronger with each drink before we’re suddenly at his mercy again. An overbearing giant that overpowers us until we’re dragged through the dirt and looking out of the pit of despair again. We’ve fallen for the trick. Not for the first time.
Setting a limit in advance is a tactic some drinkers use. Rarely does it work. Counting the pints like they’re a death sentence being handed down, resolve is tested. After all, people are less likely to hold themselves to the same standards as they plough their way through drink. Beer goggles anyone?
What is moderation anyway? It differs for everyone. The novice teen drinker is more likely to reach his moderate point sooner than the alcoholic serial abuser of alcohol. Is it when you hit ‘the buzz zone’? Is it a set number of units? Is it influenced by whether you went out the night before, or if you had dinner?
This sliding scale suggests that no-one really knows, least of all the drinker, who may be accompanied by friends who are determined to get shit-faced in his presence. Throw in the time-old tradition of buying rounds and soon enough, moderate becomes a well-intentioned, but always unrealistic ideal. At least you have a support group in close proximity to welcome you with beery breath and open arms. No judgement. Welcome back.
In my drinking career, I unsuccessfully tried moderation many times. With each victory, I became cockier, which naturally meant that I pushed things too far the next time until the inevitable happened. I’d get steaming drunk and feel like I was back at square one. I’d wake up angry and disappointed at my lack of discipline, once again overshooting the mark from cheery chappy, to a boozy blackout.
Since then I’ve learned that the easiest way to remove an addiction is to treat it with the gravitas of any other drug. If someone offered me a syringe full of heroin and asked me to inject just a little, I’d firmly refuse. An extreme example? Maybe. Or perhaps not, considering the trail of destruction that alcohol has been responsible for in our society.
The problem with moderation is that even with a couple of drinks we’re not ourselves; at least, not until the alcohol is absorbed in the blood stream. It’s curious to note that the feeling of relaxation, cited as a major reason people drink, is usually observed with the first sip – long before alcohol has even had a chance to fiddle with our neurochemistry.
Conditioning plays a significant role, not least from drinkers who question our reason to abstain from alcohol completely. There is a freedom in removing all alcoholic options from a social occasion. No more mental battles or stress about keeping up appearances and monitoring drinks. A conviction that gets stronger over time – one that remains solid despite opposition.
Moderate drinkers increase their tolerance to alcohol over time. One person’s moderation is another person’s excess. At what point does it become an issue to be addressed? Cumulatively the effects of moderate drinking over years can lead to a variety of health concerns including cancer.
Just the one drink doesn’t quite have the same appeal anymore.