So, when I quit drinking, my tummy started doing strange things. I mean, apart from the messed-up gut microbiome and vitamin/mineral deficiencies. Not looking so hot from this angle, are you now, Mr. Rosé? Anyways, I started noticing this weird, jittery feeling around the end of the day, when work was done, the horse was ridden, supper was bubbling away on the stove. What is this?

Is this the anxiety everyone has been talking about? I don’t like it!

That’s right, I had never actually let myself experience anxiety. At the first hint of discomfort, I would immediately reach for a drink. But now, that dog won’t hunt, Monseigneur! So, I sat with this feeling and got curious about it. Today, I’m curiosity’s biggest fan, but back then, this was a novel idea. I had to find a new way of dealing with the discomfort. The yucky feelings. But before I did that, I had to put a name to them, so I knew what I was dealing with.

When I quit drinking, I had to relearn what different feelings felt like. I had to learn to name them again – or for the first time. Because I don’t know about you, but “Feelings” wasn’t exactly at the top of the curriculum at school when I was growing up. Much less “How to Process Them in a Healthy Way.” And I think this is a societal problem that leads many, many of us down the oh-so-slippery alcohol slope. By practically demonizing emotions (Oh, don’t be so sensitive/a cry baby/a girl. Life’s tough, suck it up), we’ve shut down a big part of ourselves. But of course, it doesn’t want to stay down. When it inevitably rears its head, we panic and pour booze down our throat, because that’s the only way we learned to cope.

So, if you’ve ditched the drink and are wondering what it is you’re actually feeling, I recommend you check out Brené Brown’s eye-opening series “Atlas of the Heart,” where she explores the language of emotions and human experience.

She starts with “Anguish.”

You’re welcome.