It's been roughly 3.3 months, or 14.2 weeks, or 100 days (if we're aiming for a sexy round number) since I've had an alcoholic drink. How do I feel.... well the truth is I feel weird. I thought I'd be bursting with pride writing this but I'm not. I don't feel proud. I actually feel quite sad and conflicted.
Wow...boozy old me...100 days?! Who'd 'a thunk it! I thought I'd be shouting these words from the rooftops - beaming with happiness as I click my heels mid-jump. Instead I feel kind of....meh. My pink clouds haven't arrived and I'm finding day 100 quite miserable really.
When I started my journey into sobriety I read and researched like a crazed librarian. Punching phrases into Google that would take me to articles and blogs crammed full of inspiration and you-can-do-it-fist-bumping mantras. Cartoon Em would be producing steam from her information-obsessed tappy fingers on the keyboard. I was excited for the benefits yet naïve to think quitting booze would be breezy.
When I completed the internet (I actually think I did) I moved onto books and tucked a few titles under my belt that I thought I would relate to the most. Catherine Grey's The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober got me through my first booze-free holiday around the 43-day-sober mark, and is written by a woman who was on the verge of losing it all from her alcohol dependence.
Clare Pooley's The Sober Diaries was a softer read yet made me feel reassured that I wasn't the only one choosing to pour red wine into a china mug to disguise my drinking of it at 11.00 a.m. Clare's book gave me warm soothing hugs on the dark days yet I felt my drinking and behaviours were a lot more...hard core.
Yet still, with every page I read I couldn't help but give myself a hard time (something I'm still obviously doing). I was a newbie to this sober malarkey. Someone who has repeated form for caving and celebrating a short-lived detox with a whopping great big glass of wine.
In truth, I didn't really feel worthy of being in club sober, but in the early days a tiny voice inside said 'go easy, Em, no pressure.' So I continued to press my nose against the window of sobriety and stare in. Day in, day out. Looking back, did I even want to be in this club? Maybe that's the issue.
Since quitting booze my anxiety has been a complex bugger to deal with. Blix, my booze demon, on at me constantly - scratching away at my drinking scabs which are desperately trying to heal. Everything is still very raw, but aside from being a lovely big number - 100 days sober feels little more than a scary reality check. Today there are no pink clouds. Today they are black and crammed full of rain.
There have been really significant wins along the way, mind - like my first sober wedding, first sober dinner party (oh how I hate them), first sober night out for a friend's birthday. To someone in control of their drinking these achievements seem trivial, but to me they're riddled with doubt and temptation. Alcohol is a drug and people are addicted to it. That's what drugs do. They ruin lives and the majority of people on drugs can't cope. So hey, being in a room littered with drugs and saying 'no thanks' when everyone's doing them is a pretty big deal.
Since giving up drinking on July 8th, which technically marked the start of a very busy summer for me, I haven't given myself an easy run. But then when is it ever going to be easy? So many people have said to me 'Oooh bad move giving up drinking in the summer, why don't you just wait until October when everyone's doing it?'. Of course I considered throwing in the towel on a number of occasions, but every time I considered an excuse for quitting I remembered now. Now is the right time to do this as there will never, ever be a right time. It doesn't exist so it needs to happen now.
So yes, I've done it. I've hit 100 days. But I can't take any joy from that as I simply feel like I'm treading water. I'm sick of talking to people about my not drinking and I'm sick of missing the fucking stuff.
Yesterday I was working in London and arrived at Waterloo at 6.30 p.m. to get my train home. I wandered over to M&S to grab a quick bite and found myself starring at the perfectly chilled gins in tins. Booze everywhere. I had legitimately floated to the booze aisle without even realising. Gawping blankly at the ready-mixed cosmopolitans, mojitos, caipirinhas. I could buy at least four and finish them all on the train before getting home like I used to. Rob wouldn't even know.
You could enjoy your alone drinking time on the train again, Em. Remember how much it relaxed you? Remember how no one cares what you do on the train? They're strangers, you'll never see them again. Buy some lovely drinks for the journey.
Fuck off, Blix.
Instead I got a little teary, paid for my ready meals and walked into Foyles book store next door. During my early days of research I read about a book written by Allen Carr, The Easy Way to Stop Drinking and skipped over the synopsis. The title alone made it seem too much like a cringey self-help book (however the reviews were good). I opted for Catherine and Clare's more....poetic titles. At the time I wanted to find joy and comfort from not drinking, but tonight, on day 99, I needed something to remind me just how shitty and life-ruining alcohol is.
Luckily there was one copy available, tucked in the very bottom left-hand-side of Foyles' Self Help aisle. Beyond poor product placement indicating that abstinence at Waterloo is a dirty rotten secret.
I started Allen's book on the train home while sipping sparkling water and hated everything about the journey. People all around me drinking beers and laughing among themselves while I'm pressed against a damp window trying desperately to hide the cover of my book. God forbid anyone sees what I'm reading - I'll be laughed out of London!
I guess what I'm trying to say here is that day 100 is just like any other day really. I'm struggling to come to grips with a life without booze and the big milestones are compounding my feelings of hatred and loneliness. I hate that I'm someone who can't have a normal relationship with alcohol yet what is normal? How the fuck is drinking an addictive poison even deemed as normal?
But it is. Every day. And I'm seriously hoping Allen's book has some shit hot advice for me. On day 100 I absolutely need it.
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