have, and without it, nothing else matters. Our instincts are specifically designed to guide us. Yet in our stubbornness, we rely heavily on our own intellect, trusting our knowledge more than our senses, even though common knowledge is often later disproven. We ignore our instincts in favor of intelligence, not realizing our instincts are designed to keep us alive and healthy. Alcohol deadens our senses and mutes our instincts. It is important that we do not ignore our natural instincts; they are the most valuable source of information we have regarding our health and longevity.
We need to see that we are strong, whole, and complete. We need to understand that alcohol, instead of acting as a support to help us deal with life, actually deadens our senses and harms our immune system. Consuming chemicals, which affect the functioning of our bodies, is reckless. And in this case, the danger is increased because our chemical of choice is addictive. In truth, you don’t need alcohol to enjoy life or to relieve stress. You only think you do. And in reality, it does nothing for us. As you uncover the truth, your perception will begin to change, both consciously and unconsciously, and with this knowledge you will no longer desire alcohol. You will be free.
LIMINAL POINT: ARE WE REALLY DRINKING FOR THE TASTE?
“Recovery is all about using our power to change our beliefs that are based on faulty data.”
—Kevin McCormack
Before you ever drank a drop you observed everyone around you drinking, seeming to enjoy the taste of alcohol. Yet your early experience probably contradicted that belief. Kids generally don’t like their first sip of alcohol. Since you continue to observe others around you drinking, you assume there must be something good and beneficial about drinking, despite the taste. You conclude that you should persevere in drinking; you may even be told you need to “acquire the taste.” Over time, you do indeed acquire a taste for alcohol. Now your experience is in line with your observations, and you can more easily conclude that alcohol tastes good, and you do, in fact, drink because you like the taste.
Let’s consider reality:
You Just Have to Acquire the Taste
This justification is the great deceit that lures new drinkers in. My colleague, Yani, is French. She told me her parents encouraged her to have sips of wine at dinner from the age of eight, much like my parents encouraged me to at least taste the spinach on my plate. She never liked it and would tell them so, but they would insist on at least one sip telling Yani to just wait and see—she would like it when she is older. Sure enough, Yani now drinks wine every night. When we take our first sips and almost gag, there’s always someone there to reassure us that alcohol is an acquired taste.
But let’s consider again our awesome bodies, whose purpose is to make sure we remain alive. We know that we need food and water to survive, and if we don’t eat and drink, we will die. Other animals are not consciously aware of this, so how does nature make sure they eat and drink? Instinctually, they feel hunger and thirst.
We know that certain things are poison because we are told so or because the label says so. How does a doe know what is poison, which grasses to eat and which will make her sick? It’s a brilliant aspect of her design, yet quite simple: Grasses that deer are meant to eat smell and taste nice, while the grasses that will make the deer sick smell and taste bad.
Our sense of smell and taste are vital to our well-being. They help us distinguish between good and rotten food. The products in our refrigerators may carry expiration dates, but our own ability to smell when meat is rotten or taste spoiled milk is more sophisticated than the dates placed on foods. These senses ensure our survival.
I was recently in Brazil and saw ethanol for sale at the gas stations. You may be surprised to know that the ethanol you put in your gas tank is the exact same ethanol in the liquor you drink. Yep, alcohol, without additives, is ethanol. Pure alcohol tastes awful, and a very small amount will kill you. We use extensive processes and additives to make it taste good enough to drink. Unfortunately, none of these processes reduce the harms associated with drinking fuel.
Alcohol destroys our health by attacking our liver and immune system and is related to more than sixty diseases.53 Yet because we are only peripherally aware of the harms but very familiar with pro-alcohol social messages, we often justify our drinking by saying we drink for the taste. And we believe this is true. We have an uncanny ability to unknowingly deceive ourselves.
Imagine a college kid drinking one of his first beers at a football game. It’s cheap and warm, and almost certainly does not taste good. You are fairly sure he would rather be drinking a soda. If you ask him why he isn’t drinking a soda, he will probably tell you he likes the taste of beer. In truth, he wants to fit in, and only kids drink soda during football games. He cannot admit this, and might not even realize it, so he tells you he likes the taste. This does not sync with reality as you watch him choke the beer down.
If you ask him a few months later, at the homecoming game, he will again tell you he likes it. Since he has been drinking for a few months, the answer may hold some truth. He has started to acquire the taste. And since the alcohol is addictive, it has created an imperceptible craving for itself, which, when satisfied, gives him the perception of enjoyment.
I don’t know anyone who drank so many sodas they puked. Yet, how many people do you know who have drunk enough to throw up? Even the most moderate drinkers I know occasionally take it too far. Throwing up is awful. Awful, but when you think about it, actually incredible. Throwing up saves our lives, protecting us from alcohol poisoning. The implication is clear: Alcohol is not good for us. Yet we are not deterred. We carry on, thinking of our nights “worshiping the porcelain gods” as a badge of honor. It’s college after all, and we are determined to acquire a taste for booze.
Finally, you actually like the taste of alcohol, but it is still the same chemical in your gas tank. It is still destroying your liver, your immune system, and your brain. The taste doesn’t actually change— that’s impossible.
Think of the guy who showers in cologne. You can smell him coming from a mile away, yet he is unaware. It’s the same concept. I went to school in an agricultural town surrounded by ranches and farms. Aggie towns have a very intense smell. After a few months there, I couldn’t smell it at all. It’s remarkable how, given enough time, senses grow immune to the most unpleasant things.
There’s no doubt alcohol tastes bad. Why else would we need to go to such great lengths to make it palatable with mixers and sweeteners? You may be a manly type who now loves to drink whiskey straight. You acquired a taste for whiskey like I acquired a smell for animal crap.
Do you really drink just because of the taste?
It Enhances the Taste of Food
The enhancement of food by a particular drink makes sense when you think about milk and cookies. You actually take a cookie and dip it into milk, changing the texture and flavor of the cookie. I can understand how this could enhance the taste. But you don’t put wine in your mouth with your steak, so how can it change the way food tastes? Not to mention it’s been medically proven that alcohol actually deadens your taste buds rather than increasing their sensitivity.54
Now, I admit the flavor of wine can be great in sauces, but so can just about anything depending on what else you mix with it. A popular cooking show forces chefs to cook with all kinds of nasty ingredients to make them palatable. I find it strange that, with thousands of beverages in existence, we only use this excuse with alcohol. We don’t hear people claiming they drink Coke because it enhances the flavor of their hot dog. It strikes me, as a marketer, that this is a genius marketing tactic. If we can marry the product (alcohol) with the authentic pleasures of eating, we have a much higher chance of selling a glass of wine, at its incredible markup, every time we sell a steak.
Conversations justifying why we drink happen all the time. We don’t