I have always been an anxious and socially awkward person which has taken many years throwing myself out of comfort zones to improve. Sometimes with a big night out my anxiety compounded for two days. Sometimes you have to admit that some habits just don’t suit who you are as a person. There’s no shame in that, because if there is shame it only builds self-resent. 

I want to say I never drank too much, but that has little relevance, doesn’t it? It’s a phrase from self-defence, exposing myself to you. The small signs that drinking gets in the way of life is enough.

Halfway through June I decided to abstain from alcohol for a month. Dry July had little to do with it but when I found out it was on I added the extra two weeks to my fast hesitantly. I was unhappy with my personal life due to poor time management skills, which I suppose I blamed on work too often. The goal in the six weeks was talk to my family more, and take up a sport or hobby. 

I am one month into the experiment and I suppose this is the part where I am supposed to say how much better life is without the grog. My mindset changes week to week but right now I feel that life without alcohol does not magically make me a better person. The casual drinks are only a crutch. It exaggerates what I think but it filters my awareness. It drains my motivation without my knowledge, yet inspires a social life connection only with more alcohol. 

See, at the beginning of August I am considering whether or not to rush to the pub to get a few drinks. I might hold off drinking a while longer. 

It is a mask only hiding the true faults. That’s what makes getting tipsy so appealing. For me, the appeal is ‘connection’. There is a way to be able to do that without alcohol, and if connecting with people only happens over a pint, then I suggest you’re better without that relationship. 

Last week I realised that even though I had improved friendships, I had not begun a hobby unless you count losing at the game Crash Bandicoot. Finally after two years of procrastination I went to a boxing session at the PCYC. This to me is my true achievement. It will be even better if I return, although the coach threatens burpees as often as Bob Katter points out the stupidity of governments. 

There is undoubtedly someone out there you know doing Dry July. Maybe it’s not even Dry July but maybe a transformation of their life. It might not even be alcohol. It might be an absence of some other crutch. 

Please support them. They could be like me, feeling the thirst in my throat like a vampire in an Anne Rice novel every time I walk past the smokers patio of the Buffs Club. The small investment, whether money towards the Cancer Council, or empathetic support, can help hold them (hold us!) accountable.