Introduction I woke up on New Year's Eve (not New Year's Day, mind you, New Year's Eve) of 2016 with a ferocious hangover. The night before, I'd planned to go out and have just a few drinks. As often happened, my plans were thwarted, and I ended up having a few too many. I played back the scene in my head. I should have gone home after dinner. Instead, I was persuaded to go barhopping and dancing downtown. I love dancing. I remember bopping around joyfully to 2000s hip-hop and guzzling a novelty spiked drink served in a children's juice pouch. The next morning, I dragged myself from bed and called an Uber to take me back to my vehicle, which was still parked safely at a restaurant it was never intended to stay at. My stomach turned in the stuffy car. From the rearview mirror dangled a sinfully pungent air freshener, clearly intended to camouflage the car's musty odor. The combination was nearly the undoing of me. I gasped for fresh air as I sat unsteadily back in my own car. I tried to settle myself as I wondered if I was doomed to vomit in a restaurant parking lot as innocent families were making their way in for brunch. I immediately canceled my brunch plans with friends, lacking both the willpower and the stomach to socialize. I spent most of New Year's Eve day wallowing on the sofa, wondering if this-an endless string of happy hours, hangovers, boozy brunches, and Sunday Fundays-was all there was to life. The vibrant social life I was living had once seemed so glamorous. From this particular vantage point, my social obligations felt more like a burden. For the life of me, I couldn't understand where I'd gone wrong. From the outside, it certainly looked like I was living the good life. I was a young, healthy, single, attractive woman with a thriving career and active social life. I had spent the better part of the last decade building my lifestyle to be exactly what it was: a shallow, repetitive merry-go-round of ladder climbing and elbow rubbing that was sold to me as "the dream." Surely, to someone else this was a dream; I should be satisfied, right? Yet as I sat there, nearly catatonic on my sofa, too hung over to think clearly, I realized I was, in fact, living some sadistic, self-imposed nightmare. When I took a good look at the life I'd built for myself, it wasn't difficult to see that most of my friendships lacked depth, my romantic life was unfulfilling, I was working myself ragged punching the clock for someone else's dream, and my life was void of the spiritual connection that I desperately desired. As I sat there, disillusioned by it all, I asked myself a question I'd been pondering for months: Would everything be better if I just stopped drinking? It seemed almost silly. How could one small decision like abstaining from alcohol make everything better? Yet I knew in my soul that I was meant for something big and important in this lifetime. I'd actually known this since I was a little girl. I believed that enriching friendships and true love were possible, even though I hadn't fully experienced them. I sensed that joy and happiness were available to me, although I'd spent almost ten years trying to figure out if something was wrong with me. I knew that abundance and fulfilling work were not mutually exclusive, and at this point, I had neither. On one hand, my desires felt so familiar, and on the other, they all seemed slightly out of reach. I wondered again if maybe, just maybe, alcohol was the thing holding me back. There was only one problem: I didn't have a problem. I asked myself multiple times if I was powerless over alcohol. Each time, the answer was a resounding no. I wasn't in denial. I was, in fact, nothing more than a normal (albeit heavy, at times) social drinker. As I looked around, it was clear that there was nothing abnormal about my drinking habits. Every other young, social woman was drinking just as much as if not more than I was. So, no, I didn't have a problem, but in that miserable moment lying on my sofa, I decided I was curious enough to explore what life could be like without the hazy veil of alcohol clouding it. I began my journey with an intentional thirty-day break and extended that break to ninety days, then six months, then a full year. As I abstained, I also committed to investing the time and money I used to spend on partying on my own personal, emotional, and spiritual development. Quite unexpectedly, I came to a place where alcohol was no longer good or bad, right or wrong. Alcohol became an option that merely existed. From this perspective, it also became an option that I was no longer interested in. Through my journey, I stopped thinking about drinking entirely. The result was not instantaneous. Nonetheless, it was miraculous. After months of abstaining, praying, meditating, journaling, and studying, I began to understand alcohol, and myself, differently. From this place, alcohol seemed completely insignificant. My new realization about drinking was this: alcohol is our socially acceptable solution-a cure-all for ailments large and small. We consume alcohol with the hope of subtly shifting our disposition or elevating and exaggerating an existing personality trait. Yet the persona we create with alcohol is false. The more I looked closely at my relationship with drinking, the more I realized alcohol was the root of a system of other behaviors, habits, and beliefs I was using to keep myself small. Unwittingly, I used alcohol to dull my brightness and dilute my potential. Alcohol kept me safely tethered to the ground, where I continued marching in unison with everyone else. But I was not meant to be tethered tightly to the ground; I was meant to soar. I believe you, too, are meant to soar. I know the possibility that is available to you, and-even though we may not have met-I want that for you so badly. I want you to experience joy and happiness and bliss and success beyond your wildest dreams. I want you to realize your fullest potential, live as your most authentic self, and connect to your soul. If you are even the tiniest bit curious about what life could be like without alcohol, keep reading. This book is for you. Come with me as I guide you through a discovery of just how wrong we've got it when it comes to alcohol. I'll guide you to become aware of all the ways we've allowed alcohol to invade our lives, stifling our birthright to be fully self-expressed. When we allow alcohol to enter our lives in this way, we lower our sense of self-worth and block our ability to self-actualize, achieve, and connect to our internal wisdom. Deep down, we each crave this type of life, but we get lost in our pursuit. We end up doing ordinary things yet expecting extraordinary results. Drinking becomes both a symptom and a self-prescribed treatment. We imbibe to fit in and play safely within the bounds society has constructed for us. We drink again to numb our dissatisfaction with the mediocre life we've built. Throughout my twenties, I played out the story that drinking was normal and "cool." I drank to hide my insecurities and reveal my outgoing side. I drank to cover up the fact that I'd lost touch with my authentic self and built myself into a lifestyle I was incredibly discontented with. It was a vicious cycle, and I saw no easy way out. Perhaps you've been there, too. When we allow our potential to be bottled up in the drinking culture, we fail to achieve the emotional depth, personal success, professional excellence, relational fulfillment, and spiritual connection that are available to us. Rather, we settle for what appears to be "good enough." If you're reading this now, I hope you're over and done with settling for mediocrity. I hope you're ready to live a life that, up until now, you've only dreamed of. If so, I'm here to guide you through the most common stumbling blocks we all face while trying to find freedom from alcohol in a world that seems to be-okay, is-obsessed with booze. I'll give you the insight and tools you need to bravely explore your relationship with alcohol and help you learn what life can be like if you choose to unbottle your potential. Whether you're looking to break up with booze or just want to find a less-frequent, less-volatile relationship with alcohol, the concepts I outline in this book will serve as a solid foundation for renegotiating the way you feel about drinking. It is my greatest honor to serve you in any way as you work to unbottle your potential. I am both a curious student and a willing teacher on this path. My understanding of our relationship with alcohol is rooted in psychology, personal development, and spiritual study. As such, I know some of the concepts I introduce to you may be challenging or even triggering. I ask that you keep going and read with an open mind. What follows in the pages of this book is a vision of what life could be like for you. Welcome to Unbottled Potential. PART ONE: Bottled-Up Brilliance Chapter 1 You Don't Need to Have a Problem Getting Over the Social Stigma around Sobriety It's 2016, and I'm just a few months into my thirties when I find myself staring at a Google search bar. My fingers hover tentatively over the keyboard, preparing to take one of the many quizzes designed to help determine if you have a problem with alcohol. I answer the questions one by one and wait for the results to appear on my screen. When they do, I let out a huge sigh of relief. The quiz confirms what I had already suspected: my name is Amanda, and I'm not an alcoholic. Even though this was the anticipated outcome, I furrow my brow in confusion. If I'm not an alcoholic, why do I have this nagging feeling that I should quit drinking? It's perplexing because, as far as I know, people who don't have a problem with alcohol don't just quit drinking . . . do they? Further, how did I, an average, run-of-the-mill social drinker, end up here, pondering what it would be like to pursue a life of sobriety at the ripe age of thirty? I feel like a weirdo for even considering it. Breaking up with booze doesn't make sense. I have no real reason to question my relationship with alcohol . . . it is by no means ruining my life. In fact, from the outside looking in, my life looks pretty rad. I have a great job, a cute apartment, and a nice car; I'm physically fit and have an active social schedule. Yet I can't shake the feeling that alcohol has outworn its welcome in my life. When I take a serious look at my drinking, I conclude that my relationship with alcohol has been rather unremarkable. There have been no rock bottoms or ruined relationships. I haven't caused myself physical harm or put my job in jeopardy. I'm not drinking alone, neglecting my responsibilities, or fitting any of the stereotypes they tell you to look for in problem drinkers. I'm also not drinking any more than my peers, who, by the way, also appear to be kicking ass at life. Although I go out frequently, my drinking has not led me down the path of drugs. Alcohol is my one vice, and a socially acceptable one at that. I've been able to confirm time and time again that my drinking is normal. I've even gone so far as to ask my therapist if she thinks I should quit. I'm met with a quizzical stare; it's clear that she hasn't been given the tools to confront sobriety outside the bounds of addiction. She suggests I simply try to be more mindful with moderation. Try as I might, mindfulness and moderation don't seem to stick, and I can't escape the growing curiosity about what my world could look like without the happy hours, boozy brunches, Sunday Fundays, and crippling hangovers. I cannot, no matter how intently I try, ignore the instinctual knowing that alcohol is holding me back from living up to my truest potential. However, this is precisely what I've been trying to do ever since the feeling began to surface: Stifle it. Ignore it. Forget about it. On one hand, I know my life will be better without alcohol. On the other, I'm afraid of what my life would look like if I chose to defy the one social norm that I've built so much of my persona around. In my world, drinking alcohol is synonymous with being fun, cool, sexy, relaxed, and sophisticated. Until recently, I'd never once questioned the place alcohol had in my life because I never needed to. Rather, I coveted alcohol as a required social lubricant, a welcomed form of liquid courage, an elixir to enhance my mood, and a potion to drown my sorrows. In fact, my newfound sober curiosity is borderline annoying. Am I determined to be absolutely no fun? Am I some sort of weird recluse trying to finagle my way into a life of certain solitude and social rejection? Am I trying to render myself undatable? I'm only thirty; isn't this supposed to be fun? The fact of the matter is, drinking was fun, or at least I thought it was. It was fun until I started feeling like complete shit for days, no matter how much or little I drank. It was fun until my hangovers started showing up with an unwelcome case of anxiety. It was fun until it felt like never-ending commitments to networking events and social outings were my certain future. In other words, it was fun until it wasn't. The solution seems obvious enough: quit drinking. But if you've grappled with these same feelings, you know the solution is simple; it's just not that easy in a world where alcohol is the answer for both celebration and commiseration. It's not that easy in a society where alcohol is the consummate cure-all for everything from minor discomfort to massive heartbreak. It's not that easy when your social life is structured around drinking and you're frankly not sure how to navigate a normal life without the glue that seems to hold everything together. Determined to find a better way, I returned to my laptop and began typing the next most logical search phrase I could think of: "How to quit drinking if you're not an alcoholic." Although my search wasn't exhaustive, I came up rather empty-handed. I found several new, modern, non-AA approaches to sobriety during my search. I scanned through their websites and saw words like rehab, detox, addiction, and recovery glaring back at me. It didn't feel right. I was pretty sure I didn't need recovery and wasn't an addict. What I was was stubborn: the language of addiction and recovery didn't fit me, and I was not willing to pursue a path that didn't fully resonate. Excerpted from Unbottled Potential: Break up with Alcohol and Break Through to Your Best Life by Amanda Kuda All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
