A big thing over here in Prague, especially around the holidays, is hot wine, or “svarak” to the locals. Over the past several weeks, I’ve seen countless hot wine booths set up across the country and attended a gathering where my friends made some. Despite coronavirus restrictions, hot wine is still all the rage this year.
But not for me. Why?
Full disclosure: I’ve had hot wine in the past and have found it quite tasty. After all, Christmas is a time of year when you’re supposed to let yourself go and try to forget the troubles of the past 365 days. 2020 has felt more like 365 years, so you would think I–and others–would want to consume even more alcohol this year, right?
Nope. At the end of the day, I have nothing against hot wine, except that it is, well…alcohol. For those of you who don’t know, I stopped drinking alcohol about six months ago. I did so because of a not-so-great blood test result from my doctor. You see, I needed the test to get a health clearance for summer camp. In order to get the clearance, my doctor’s office needed a blood sample. When the results came back from the lab, my doctor and I noticed several concerning things. She asked me to do something about them.
So I did.
Most notably, I made a promise to myself to eat healthier, which, admittedly, has been increasingly more difficult over the last few weeks amid the traditional yearly chaos of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Part of that promise was giving up alcohol. My choices were simply to scale back or cut it out entirely. While I’ve never been a huge drinker to begin with, I did decide that the latter was the correct call. Alcohol would no longer enter my body. Period. Not even an occasional drink or a sip of someone else’s.
I know that some religions forbid its members from drinking alcohol. Unlike many, that was not my reason for doing it. I am Catholic, and Catholics technically are permitted to have as much alcohol as they see fit. Once again, this was a decision strictly for my health.
The temptations have been there. I’ve had more than a handful of bad days when all I’ve wanted to do was open up a beer and drown my sorrows. Gatherings with friends have sometimes been awkward. Having to play drinking games with water has certainly been strange. Some people have excluded me from social events because of it. However, the people who truly matter have supported me and accepted my decision, and for this I am deeply grateful.
I’m proud of myself for the resolve and determination I’ve shown. I really don’t plan on going back to drinking any time soon. Honestly, I don’t even think I’ll have champagne on New Year’s Eve. Not having to worry about drinking has also made my life easier because I haven’t had to stand around in the claustrophobia-inducing confines of the potraviny (the Czech mini-markets/convenience stores) for 20 minutes as I decide which beer I’m in the mood for.
I think it was a good decision and one I don’t regret. So while we’re on the topic of good decisions…that leads me to another one I made even a longer time ago. This one has to do with smoking. While I have drunk in my life before, I NEVER have smoked or done drugs.
And I don’t plan on it. No blood test result in the world will ever change that.
No cigarettes, no cigars, no joints. Even in college, I refused the traditional cigars during a late-night gathering of orientation leaders. As much as I enjoyed the occasion and the company of those around me, this seemingly innocuous one-time deal was not appealing to me.
So why won’t you ever find me with a lighter or rolling papers? The first reason is, well, it could kill me. Not to get overly personal, but I suffer from asthma and have for many years. My lungs are already not up to par, and I’m scared to imagine the damage that continuous cigarette smoke would cause. Another reason it could hurt me worse than others? My family history. Both of my paternal grandparents died at relatively young ages, in large part due to years of smoking. On my mother’s side of the family, my grandmother was one of six children and lived to be 93. She was the only one of the six who didn’t smoke. The others? Very nice people who I wish lived longer, but none of them made it to 93. My grandmother, the oldest, was the last one standing. The reason? You guessed it–it was because she didn’t smoke.
None of my immediate family members smoke, either, and I think many of them have largely the same reasons. I know that I want be around to see my nieces and nephews get married and start successful lives of their own. I want to see what kind of parents they become. Side note: If they do have kids, what would I be–is it “great-uncle or granduncle?” Anyway, I know my entire family would echo those sentiments. As I’ve said in previous blogs, I’d like to think that, at 31, I’m about a third of the way through my life, as opposed to halfway through. Heck, if I ever was to have kids, I’d want to be there for them for as long as possible.
Finally, I think it’s important to clarify that I do not in any way judge or think lesser of those who do drink and smoke. This is one of the first things I tell new friends as soon as I’ve developed a comfort level with them. I am perfectly fine with my friends making their own choices. They’re adults and it’s a free country. They can do what they want and celebrate certain occasions as they see fit.
At the end of the day, it’s a personal choice for me, and it wasn’t an easy choice to make.
But it was the right one.
Czeching Out the World of TEFL 