"those who can't hold their whiskey"

 Unfortunately, I'm one of those. 

When I've been fortunate enough to be in serious relationships, I've been able to stop drinking (with a couple of relapses here and there, mind) sometimes for years on end. But when I moved to Rankin Inlet I became a binge drinker, downing 40 oz. bottles in one sitting over a couple of days. I'd pass out and immediately resume my drinking when I woke up. 

Bootleg alcohol is so readily available in that small Nunavut's second city and I became physically and psychologically reliant on that. I made life-long friends and loved my co-workers and students there but I was suffering existentially: even in purgatory, caring for others holds profound currency. That was my saving grace.

In my first year and few months living there, I was abstaining completely from alcohol and weed. I'd go to work in the morning, go to the store to get my daily meals after work, and then go home. That was to extent of my life. It was very lonely. For someone like me who is incapable of spontaneously seeking out company, the loneliness became a real killer of my sobriety.

I had to run away after a few years. I couldn't afford to go on holidays outside of the community and really was there the whole time. I didn't complete my contract so I had to leave everything behind. My books, my research, my prized possessions, everything, including my daughter's water colour she called "butterflies and flower garden" which she gave to me and I valued and kept. I think my stuff might still there, if it hasn't been raided over the years already and is now long gone.

When I got back to Iqaluit I was fortunate enough to be allowed to continue teaching. People at the Arctic College still believed in me. I taught the winter semester and the final stretch of the school year. I love teaching and am good at it. 

After that, I was hired as an Inuit language specialist by my current employer and I moved to Toronto and placed here strategically to do the work I was hired to do. I love my job and am allowed freedom to try my hand at things that I might find interesting and might be good at. I'm involved in team projects as diverse as developing Inuit language teaching resources, writing children's books, in production of children's television shows, doing research and writing commentary on IQ (Inuit knowledge), and I have continued teaching, but now, I'm also developing the Inuit language courses I teach.

After moving to my current position I still drank heavily, especially during the pandemic. Hey, I've had and continue to deal with my shit as best I'm able to and can do. But I've slowly come to realize that I need to do my "moral inventory" truthfully almost on a daily basis if I'm to transcend that horrible shit (some of my own making and some from my childhood). I know that my only path is to try and forgive the unforgivable (ie, myself and others).

I've vacillated wildly between two extremes: drinking to the point of oversaturation and abstaining completely - at least for a couple of months. But during what I put myself through I've had a profound epiphany of sorts: I realized that I'm a perfect example of the warnings and admonitions of IQ and ancient Greek philosophy regarding living a loose, mindlessly-lived life.

I've always been interested in the ethics of the ancient Greeks and enlightenment philosophies and, in my work on IQ research, I've met and worked with people who actually walk the talk, I mean, besides my parents and grandparents (well, I have my mom's temper). I was surrounded by love before I had to go to school. But the consonant theme has always been the principles of moderation and seeking balance. -Inuit philosophy is very much akin to Daoist philosophy in that respect.

I decided that I want to try something else regarding my struggles with alcohol and mindlessly allowing people of questionable character (including myself) to live rent-free in my almost constant monkey mind. 

I've sworn off my beloved Irish and Canadian whiskeys and my as hitherto unchallenged, very strong desire to achieve oblivion at any cost. Believe me, my unexamined life style has costed me a lot. I'm now starting to set limits, boundaries, and making deliberate plans to living my days reasonably: no more resumption of drinking even when I wake up from a fitful sleep; drinking only beer but only after putting in a good day's work and honouring my commitments. 

Over the last three weeks or so, I've not gotten drunk at all (and most times, I've been able to stop drinking even without getting a beer buzz) because I'm now mindfully pacing my consumption. A tallboy can of beer (a pint) now normally lasts me a couple of hours to drink. The whole point is not to get drunk but rather try and keep my physical cravings for alcohol at bay.

I feel empowered for the first time because I'm not being forced by circumstance and/or people to control my drinking. We all have an inborn need for self -actualization and -determination. Even despite myself, I've always been able to cultivate and celebrate my talents largely without the need to boast about them (always been interested to see how far I can take them), but the notions, and realization, of self determination is something almost completely a novel thing for me.

I may stumble and fall sometimes (and I've had a couple of episodes of trying days and mood swings already since making my decision), but that doesn't mean I ought to viscerally and immediately react to them and destroy my resolve to stick to my program in the process.

I feel hopeful.