A much needed break

So as you can see, my previous post detailing my trip to Jersey on December 6th seemed to send my calm and controlled approach to sobriety into orbit!

Jeeeeze.

I'm pleased to report I made it out alive, and sober (which is the only thing that matters) but crying out fucking loud did I meltdown.

Verging on a panic attack as I left the hotel lobby I went to meet my friend who was putting me up for the night and we went for a drive to find wine. Well that's what Abbie thought. If her car seat had an ejector button that would have shot me back to England I would have pressed it hard.

Without going into a lengthy step-by-step account of the afternoon I've decided to summarise my Jersey adventure in three stages:

1). The airport completely fucked me and I wasn't ready to be at one sober. I don't think I will be for a while although I do have a hen party in CANCUN in February but my anxiety around that warrants a whole new sodding website. Updates on Mexico to follow.

2). Upon politely declining wine and opting for coffee Abbie asked about my reasons for not drinking. She is actually the first person to say, 'Are you still not drinking, Em. That's amazing I'm so proud of you. Can I ask why?'. And I truly love her for that - the stage was set for an open and honest discussion about my decision to quit booze and it's the most I've talked about it to date. She listened, was interested and made me feel empowered by my new lifestyle. She didn't search for rock bottom moments or point out everything I 'must' be missing at this time of year. Instead she told me all about her cut backs too, asking me for tips and advice on navigating work parties and boozy Christmas socials without caving. I couldn't believe that only two hours prior I was crumbling at the knees. I was utterly consumed by black clouds and failed to remember their temporary status. The afternoon was lovely and I didn't die.

3). Having shared my reasons for going sober Abbie scheduled dinner for 6.30 p.m. at a local seafood café, which was stunning, so we could be home by 9.00 p.m. and tucked up in bed given my 7.00 a.m. flight the next morning. I always assumed our best catch ups happened over wine and behind drunken eyes. How wrong I've been for all these years. I have never felt more connected to Abbie and realised our friendship goes far deeper than fizzy fuck-up juice. Before I'd always look forward to catching up over drinks, but after my time with her in Jersey I've never felt more happy knowing how great a friend I have in her without the need for booze. Sure we've had some insaaaaane nights which were of course sponsored by lashings of champagne - but that was then. This is now. And our lives no longer revolve around stinking hangovers. How cool is that?

When I returned home from Jersey it was late morning and I was exhausted. I dumped my suitcase in the hallway and just went straight to bed. No emails, no WhatsApp catching up, no nothing. I shut the blinds and sunk into a hole of black until 3.00 p.m. It was bliss. I recharged.

But even so, I felt jaded from the experience and actually quite shaken by the whole thing. When I hit four months sober I felt pretty invincible, almost as if I'd beaten my booze demon, Blix, into submission with zero scope for his return. I felt really strong.

But swanning into Gatwick airport threw me. It was horrible. And I've never felt more alone.

As a result of my epic freaking I decided to stay off social media for a while (pretty much 10 days) as I just felt shit and wasn't in the mood to envy other people's perfect sexy photos with fancy cocktail props. Bah humbug.

But now I feel better and balance is restored, with Nomo letting me know I've hit 163 days without a drink in sight. Thank God for Abbie pulling through.