Bingo.
Even AA as initially designed, before "group conscience" got taken over by lots of little cultists with big egos, didn't require abstinence. https://marcus17043.medium.com/efficacy-of-12-step-programs-for-addiction-treatment-c111fbffc10a subtitled "Groups and treatment centers must alter their “sit down, shut up, and listen” approach and remove the absolute abstinence requirement that is not found in the Big Book or the 12 and 12"
My own experience with alcohol is complicated and nuanced. I'd much rather be wet sober, which I am, than a dry drunk. Having nothing to do with the current movement or dry January, I recently went 5 weeks without a drink simply because I didn't feel like drinking. A first.
I love what Hermann Hesse wrote about alcohol:
"The misery of unrequited love accomplished what had been beyond my father's powers. It made me into a hardened drinker, and the effect of drink on my life has been more lasting than anything I have described so far. The strong sweet god of wine became my faithful friend, as he remains even today. Who is as mighty as he? Who as beautiful, as fantastic, lighthearted, and melancholy? He is hero and magician, tempter and brother of Eros. He can do the impossible; he imbues impoverished hearts with poetry. He transformed me, a peasant and a recluse, into a king, a poet, and a sage. He fills the emptied vessels of life with new destines and drives the stranded back into the swift currents of action.
Such is the nature of wine. Yet, as with all delightful gifts and arts, it must be cherished, sought out, and understood at great cost and effort. Few can accomplish this feat and the god of wine vanquishes thousands upon thousands; he ages them, destroys them, or extinguishes the spirit's flame. However, he invites those who are dear to him to feast and builds them rainbow bridges to blissful isles. When they are weary, he cushions their heads; he embraces and comforts them like a mother when they become melancholy. He transforms the confusions of life into great myths and plays the hymn of creation on a mighty harp.
... When he communes with his favorites, the storm tide of secrets, memories, poetry, and premonitions floods and intoxicates them. The known world shrinks and vanishes, and the soul hurls itself with fear and joy into the uncharted distances of the unknown where everything is strange and familiar, and the language of music, of poets, and of dreams is spoken."
