Cold Turkey Season
On quitting the familiar and feeding what comes next
There are two schools of thought on how to quit something that’s gotten its hooks into your daily life. You either taper off gently, or you go cold turkey.
If you’re the tapering type, the process can be slow and full of self-doubt and setbacks. You spend countless hours, days, weeks, months, YEARS even, negotiating with yourself each step of the way as you make progress towards your eventual goal, all while trying as hard as you possibly can to avoid pitfalls, weak moments, and defiant self-sabotage. Tapering feels more kind, but is also dangerous. You run the risk of backsliding into old habits and losing any progress you’ve made along the way while picking up shame and frustration as a side-effect.
If you’re the cold-turkey type, then you’re doing the hardest part all at once… ripping the bandage off and letting the wound bleed until it either seals itself up or you need professional help. Cold turkey is a shock to the system and requires a certain brutality that not many people can muster.
Neither feels good, and both leave you shaking for a while. And not everybody gets a choice. Sometimes life rips the bandage off for you, and you just have to adapt whether you want to or not.
The funny thing is, I keep thinking about cold turkey… literally. It was one thing to experience a seismic shift in life near the end of summer… to teach myself (again) how to be my own best company. To not reach out when I have a funny thought or lean on them for support when I need it or tap in when I get a niggling feeling in my belly. These are habits I work on one impulse at a time. Tiny acts of self-discipline as I adjust to a world without them in it.
The thing about habits, and relationships, good or bad, is that they don’t just live in our heads. They live in our hands, our mouths, our daily motions. You can put the habit down or stop the contact, but the impulse sticks around like a phantom limb of comfort you keep trying to use. You have to go out of your way to retrain your muscle memory to move in new ways… or at least stop reaching for what is no longer there.
The good news is that the body and mind don’t like staying idle for long. All that energy and time that used to go one direction suddenly hits a wall and has to find a new way out. That’s where sublimation comes in.
Sublimation is the subtle art of redirecting the “quitter’s shakes” into something less harmful… maybe even into something beautiful and beneficial. It’s how you trick your hands and your heart into learning new rituals so the old ones have no home to return to. And it works for the slow taperers and the cold-turkey quitters alike. Some people paint, or play music, or build things. I cook. I reconnect with nature. I write.
Sublimation doesn’t erase the loss, but it sure can soften the landing. It can take the discomfort and sadness and give it meaning. Give you growth.
And just when you think you’ve got it licked, that your new rituals and routines have you making great healthy progress, the holidays come along to test you.
It’s another thing entirely to go into this holiday season with the glaring absence of their presence. For the first time in over a decade I won’t be splitting my time between multiple houses or factoring in anyone else’s schedules or coordinating menus and gifts as a team. I won’t be prioritizing their experience over my own. I’ll have less to balance and more time to turn inward and reflect over the quiet months.
I didn’t really get a choice between a slow taper and a cold-turkey cutoff. But the silence isn’t as sharp now… in fact it’s starting to sound more like peace. The cravings fade. The rituals change shape. Maybe next year the turkey will be warm and so will my heart. For now I’ll just snack on the leftovers and see how things look once the new year rolls around.
Drinking: Bulleit Rye Old Fashioned
Listening To: Cam – Alchemy