It's taken a good 24 hours, but my achievement has only really started to sink in. Bloody hell, 200 days! Me! Moi!
Looking back, my first month of quitting drinking feels strange and so long ago (even though some days feel like I quit only last week). Despite everyone thinking I was entertaining a brief detox I knew that this time was the beginning of something permanent. My whole attitude towards drinking had shifted and I couldn't bare to let alcohol control my life anymore.
As the months progressed I didn't talk about my sobriety, ever. And still to this day most of my close friends and family (even my husband) don't know the true extent of my disastrous relationship with drink. I know what you're thinking, if Em was that bad how did her hubby fail to notice her dependence? Why wasn't there ever an intervention?
The truth is my hubby told me all the time to cut back on booze but I used to shrug off the remarks and keep up the bad behaviour. I was never an aggressive drunk, but I often drank myself into a trance-like state and would regularly wake up with zero recollection of half the night. I wouldn't change my behaviour in front of Rob either. If anything I drank more as he was usually the one buying the drinks and I knew he'd be there to carry me home. Strong look. Nights spent with friends over good food were the worst too. A license to inhale bottle after bottle of red wine until black.
I did well to keep my struggle a secret for so long, but a part of me just thought my coping mechanism was normal. I'm legally allowed to buy alcohol, everyone drinks and turning into a slurring zombie is just part of the privilege, right?
Towards the end I was hiding much of my mid-week consumption from Rob and my friends (as I've mentioned previously) as I knew it wasn't 'normal' anymore. Out of sight cupboard sips and burying bottles deep into the bin became 'my thing' within the last three months of boozing. It was the only way I could take the edge off without drawing attention to my dependence. I'd do it and wouldn't think twice. Everyone drinks at home, what I'm doing is fine.
Luckily I woke up to the fact that alcohol wasn't, and isn't, OK, and on July 8th 2018 I threw my hands in the air and shouted 'bollocks to it, I'm done' - literally - as I was going through the hangover from hell on a bus replacement service back from the heaviest hen weekend of my life.
Since that day the obstacles have been constant but I've found the whole process as rewarding as it has been difficult. Actually no, the benefits far outweigh the negatives but I have to be realistic and say there have been some tough-as-shit days where I've just wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and plop myself into a magnum of champagne.
But one thing I have noticed about hitting 200 days is the increased...bravery (?) I'm feeling when discussing my sobriety. For example, I've been invited to a weekend-long hen party in March and on the Sunday I'm entered into the Reading Half Marathon. I did consider quitting as the getaway is for one of my closest friends - but running and hockey are helping hugely with my recovery and I'm worried that if I start cancelling plans that are good for me I'll quickly slip back into old naughty habits (and drinking).
So I messaged my friend and explained that I wasn't leaving the party early just 'for some race', but because my new routine needs to take priority and if it doesn't I'm scared that something bad will happen. And that's the absolute truth. I'm petrified of my old ways creeping back in despite my zero-tolerance-to-booze approach. I thought about keeping the message brief but I decided to share more than I have done before - letting her know that I've had to change my lifestyle dramatically for the sake of my health, and that booze-fuelled events are difficult and sometimes I need to leave early. She sent me the nicest message back and was chuffed I was going for one night let alone two.
It's in situations like this I realise that I allow my sobriety to be much more stressful than it absolutely needs to be, and 100% of the time I'm secretly freaking out about what other people will think of me if they find out how deep-rooted my booze issues are. Maybe it's hot gossip behind closed doors, maybe it's not....who knows and actually who cares? (OK I do). But seriously, why do people still act so sodding surprised when people become dependant and addicted to booze when its rammed down our necks all the effing time?
Sleek, sexy, martini-drinking, mini-dress dancing party fun times? Gimme! Yep, bit of me. Lets drink alcohol, we'll look turbo cool and feel fit AF. Tough week? Yes Tesco, I do need that special offer litre of vodka to take the edge off. Every little helps? Damn right, I'll help myself to that.
Nah. Not anymore. Years of drinking booze has affected me in ways the advertising companies will never promote. And over time it's wormed its way into my bloodstream and convinced me on almost every occasion that life isn't worth doing unless alcohol is involved. Christening? Where's the after party? Wedding? Gimme cocktail hour. Standard Tuesday night? Let's spice this up with a vino! Re.lent.less.
People with drinking problems aren't homeless. People with drinking problems aren't strewn across park benches covered in urine. People with drinking problems ARE PEOPLE WHO SUFFER FROM THE SAVAGE EFFECTS OF BASTARD ALCOHOL. Sorry for going a bit shouty there, but at 200 days I kind of feel like I need to be.
It's taken a while, but I'm starting to feel OK about discussing my long-term intentions. I guess it's because I mainly feel that six months sober is a serious achievement - and actually in the early days I was petrified of failing and chucking in the towel. No one took my abstinence seriously. They all thought it was a mini-health protest soon to be eclipsed by an epic session on the grog. And that's fine. Because that's what happened countless times before.
Thank you for this. Sincerely. ❤️
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