Day 200 - Finding my voice

Yesterday I hit 200 consecutive days of sobriety. I didn't make a huge deal of it, I just checked into Nomo whilst lying in bed with the hubby and gleefully showed him. 'Look Rob, 200 days without a drink, what do you reckon?' He squeezed me and told me he was proud, then within five minutes was troll-snoring in my ear and disrupting my serene celebration-for-one.

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.

Six months sober!

I couldn't think of anything clever or cryptic to write for the title of this post so I just went with the crazy truth that I've hit six months alcohol free today! Writing this down and saying it out loud baffles me...it really does.

The summer months leading up to my decision to quit booze seem so long ago but like they happened only yesterday. The 2.00 a.m. benders chugging whatever I could get my hands on until black. Bunking off work for lie-ins that would surpass midday, and once surfaced my eyes could barely handle the soft noon light peeping through my bedroom blinds. Countless 'do you remember what you did last night' comments from my husband, which would send shooting pains of anxiety straight to my heart and make me hate myself for days. Pathetic drunk conversations. Wasted money. Burnt lungs from chain smoking. Embarrassing bloodshot zombie eyes covered in smudged black eyeliner and eye bogies. Clothes bursting at the seams (literally) due to excessive weight gain.

Turning 31 in March 2018 seemed to mark the beginning of the end of me. It was roughly four months before I decided to give up alcohol and I was in a terribly dark place. All of the above fuelled by drink after drink after drink eventually took it's toll, and I was knackered. Haggard, sad and knackered. I've touched on it lightly before, but I will never refer to myself as an alcoholic as I just don't feel it represents me or my situation accurately. But I do know that I was dependent on booze and it had me tight within its grip. So tight toward the final stages that I was absolutely verging on a mental breakdown.

When I sat down and took stock of all that was great and good in my life I realised it was all being affected, hindered and suffocated by alcohol. Why had I been tolerating this beast for so long? Why was I letting it wreck me without doing anything about it? If I cut myself I'll grab a plaster to ease the pain and heal the wound. Yet torture and suffering from drink? I'll just accommodate the swine, glug more and do nothing to patch up the damage.

The drunk-now-sober authors I've read often refer to booze as having a bad partner in their life, that they desperately want to kick out of bed but are still head over heels in love with - despite the constant abuse and shaming. I can understand how having a relationship like this with alcohol must be exhausting, but for me it was literally like a bomb exploded. A switch just flicked that made me say you know what, enough's enough. This isn't working for me any more. Once I had identified the cause of my pain it was an easy decision for me to kick the bastard out.

I can't encourage you enough to do the same if you're fed up with how alcohol is making you feel. Taking the power back is the best thing I have ever done, period.

So six months on. Where am I now? Long story short I'm in a really good place. Yes there have been some hugely difficult moments attached to abstaining which are detailed (and will continue to be talked about) on the blog, but aside from the mental and physical battles I've faced with my booze demon, Blix (literally. After an open bottle of white wine was left in our fridge after Christmas Day I grabbed it and went to take a swig but stopped mid trance, screamed and poured it down the sink. It was a tough day), I feel incredible.

There has been a seismic shift in my physical appearance which I'll talk about first. Yes I know this blog is still very anonymous (I promise I'll muster the courage to out my features one day!) but I can't express enough just how GOOD being alcohol free makes you look. Before I started to address exercise, I noticed so many improvements just from binning the booze. My eyes became brighter, my face seemed to deflate and the unsightly red blotches and spots I used to get at the tops of my arms disappeared pretty much instantly.

When I started to exercise and re-introduce sport in August 2018, roughly six weeks into sobriety, my body started to transform. I was a keen runner even as a drinker, but I seemed to be injured a lot and could never crack sub-nine minute miles at my very best pace. Since picking up hockey again which I play twice a week, and maintaining a running schedule which sees me run a minimum of 3.1 miles five days a week (now at eight minute miles, yay!), I'm managing to build muscle, tone everything, and for the first time this morning I looked in the mirror and thought yep, I'm pretty happy with this. A HUGE moment for me.

Before I quit booze I used to stare vacantly at my reflection and cover up the bumps with baggy jumpers and uncomfortably tight jeans. After absorbing the disappointment I'd then start to feel ashamed about the soft bits. I'd punish myself by not eating yet sink over half a bottle of wine a night and then allow the pizza and chocolate and carbs as a reward for being 'good' that day. In the build up to Christmas 2017 Rob made a comment about me wearing the same pair of trousers over and over again, and that he'd take me shopping for some new clothes if I desperately needed. I was so embarrassed (!) and at the risk of sounding like Regina George from mean girls they were genuinely the only thing that fit me back then. I didn't eat properly for a week and managed to shoe horn myself back into my black pair of skinnies as punishment. The cycle was endless.

I'm yet to stand on the scales, but when I weighed myself before I quit drinking I'd hit 10 stone. For the whole 5ft 3in of me it's the heaviest I've ever been. A weight I used to cry at. I will do the weigh in soon (end of Jan is marked!) but I'm pretty sure I may be edging back towards my wedding weight (which was 8st 5lbs) which is an exciting thought. I felt amazing then and I'm starting to feel amazing now....sobriety really is an incredible thing.

I have to be honest and say the mental side effects haven't been as noticeable as the physical improvements but I've always been quite a strong-minded person. Despite becoming increasingly depressed on hangover days I've always managed to put in a shift at work and remain happy with my life, yet for others the mental benefits of sobriety far outweigh the physical. For me it's definitely the other way round, but one thing I will say is the clarity is unbeatable. Just waking up on a Saturday morning to a fresh head and supple limbs is enough to make me never want to drink again. And wanting to crack on and be productive with my time as opposed to diarising hangover days and doing absolutely shit all is nothing short of life giving!

If someone would have asked me seven months ago 'fancy giving up booze forever?' I would have laughed in their face, genuinely! I used to pity the tee-totallers I'd meet, especially those who actively chose not to drink instead of giving it up for health or addiction reasons. What a bunch of losers! Who would actively choose stone-cold soberness over technicolour party fun times?!

Truth is the past six months have been the happiest and healthiest I've ever experienced. And looking back it was just the booze talking. I wasn't happy or enjoying myself before I quit. The only part of drinking I enjoyed was the feeling from the first one or two, the instant relief a couple of sips of wine would provide after a heavy day or stressful few hours. I'd never stop there though. I'd then hit drink three which would induce cigarette cravings, and then drink five which would increase my volume levels and arrogance, then drink eight which would slur my speech and make my eyes flicker. Anything after that would be black. And that, my friends, was the torturous monotony of my drinking.

The way I relax now is simply through me time. Unpolluted, fresh-air me time. I no longer need a glass or two to 'take the edge off', as my edge fell straight off as soon as I packed in the grog. I feel more calm, together and just generally more...zen! It's the only word I can use to describe it. Finishing a bottle of wine before bed and waking up with a stinking hangover gives me the shivers now, and if I can bin the bad stuff well in my eyes, anyone can.

In one month's time, and the day after I turn seven months sober, I'll be on a flight to Mexico with four girlfriends - Cancun bound for a week of all inclusive hen do madness. I haven't thought about it much but I am, in truth, starting to feel a tiny bit apprehensive about the whole thing. My aim for the rest of Jan is to write as many positive stories about my sobriety as I can, and no doubt recap on some face melting moments, to help me prepare for what will be my biggest challenge yet. I feel strong, but remain realistic to the fact that my triggers could one day get the better of me if I become complacent at any time.

Right here though, on the 8th of Jan, six months sober feels absolutely epic and who knows where the year will take me. 2019 I'm ready for you.

Keeping my head down over Christmas

It's been far too long since my last post - half deliberate, half by accident as I got swept away by the Christmas festivities and chaos. 

We hosted both Christmas Day and Boxing Day this year for two lots of family, so as you can imagine I didn't leave myself with much alone time to write and collect my thoughts. I could have broken away in hindsight - and definitely should have - but I was too caught up in making bread sauce and steering clear of the danger juice.

But now, as we're on the 4th of Jan (how is it 2019 already!), I sit here at my make shift breakfast bar (a bistro table, to be precise) sipping a freshly made matcha latte (yes, I spent far too much on the new Tea Pig sachet range at Waitrose) and I feel somewhat....relieved.

Relieved because this (last?) Christmas was my first sober, ever, in the history of my long drinking dramas. Previous years have seen me incapable of moving come December 25th due to week-long hangovers, battling bugs and germs incurred as a result of repeat 3.00 a.m. benders and just general debauchery sponsored by booze and shit decision making.  

I know a lot of people have been giving advice on 'how to combat your first Christmas as a sober person' (trust me, I've read them all), but as I entered the festive period not really knowing what to expect, I decided to keep my head down and wade through the pressures alone and as best I could. It felt like the right thing to do. 

My only slip up? Accidentally eating a mulled wine chocolate liquor as I perused the aisles of Hotel Chocolat searching for a 'Happy Birthday' slab to buy my Dad. The antichrist was born on Christmas Day so this leaves me with even more presents to buy at a particularly pricey time of year. Selfish goat. 

As the shell popped in my mouth I quickly realised that the shop assistant failed to mention the chocolate contained alcohol - something I should have been hot on, naturally - but the thought didn't even cross my mind until I was swallowing the coarse liquid and pretending I liked it. What I should have done was highlight how irresponsible they were for not making it clear their samples contained booze. But I didn't want to this time. The poor squirt looked barely 18 and 'tis the season etc. etc.

Aside from this minor blip I cruised through advent strong and sober, making sure our plans were focussed on seeing friends and family at our home and theirs instead of picking a pub and inviting people to join (December 2017 was rife with this type of behaviour - mainly so I could find any excuse to guzzle 'but its Christmas' bevvies). 

The stress hit me when the hubby and I were prepping on Christmas Eve. The house was calm, shopping put away and we were quietly rolling pigs into their blankets when an old habit surfaced. This type of activity should absolutely be accompanied by a good glass of red, surely? It's Christmas...I'm nearly six months sober....I can treat myself...?

Well, we all know this type of decision making will lead me straight back to sober day one which is a place I can never afford to be again so I shrugged off the bad vibes and topped up my sparkling water. Enter good thoughts centred on zero embarrassing drunk behaviour and big fat zero stinking hangovers. 

And that's what my Christmas was made of. Yes it was pure stress, when isn't hosting family, but it was stress delivered with absolute clarity. My step-mum (the one who gripped my arm at a family gathering back in October and begged for my sobriety not to be permanent) even went as far as to avoid buying me champagne truffles (something she does every year) as she thought I'd prefer a different type this year. That little gesture was quite lovely. 

And how everyone respected that our house wouldn't be full of booze this year because of...well...me! So they were kind enough to bring their own drinks and take them home once the parties were done and dusted. I know my approach to becoming tee-total (I may stop using this word you know, I just don't like it) has been a slow drip-feed to select family and friends since I quit alcohol in July, but Christmas made me realise just how conscious everyone is of my abstinence now. It was actually amazing and hugely empowering. 

Even my oldest booze-hound school friend Kate went out of her way to find me delicious and interesting soft drinks when Rob and I visited for dinner mid-December. People's early support and kindness really put my mind at ease and actually made the whole festive period a lot easier than I thought it would be.

I held a lot of conversations about my non-drinking obviously, mainly as people were so curious about my coping with it all at Christmas. Yes, I can see how December is a more 'stressful-than-usual' time to be sober but in all honesty I believe that success and failure rates lie solely with the individual. What I mean by this is...this: If you enter any situation with a strong and determined mind-set then you are more likely to succeed. Tackle a party with the tiniest tolerance of 'maybe having just one' then that's it - you're out - unless you can bring your mind-set back to strength and positivity.

Yes it's normal to have 'what if' thoughts, like I did mid-piggy wrapping, but they're only a result of my mind wandering during menial tasks. I entertain them for a brief while but my sensible sober brain soon kicks them out. And it's like with any hobby or training, the more you do it the better you get at it.

So the more firm and assertive you are when saying 'no I don't drink', or whatever it is you reply to people who ask, the easier it will be to get through the event you're tackling sober. And trust me when I say, treat everyday with the same 'day-by-day' approach you would normally. Christmas can become entirely overwhelming which is why so many people flick the 'fuck it' switch and have a drink. Don't think about it as 'Christmas' or 'December' or the period where it's acceptable to get off your tits everyday. Just look at the date as a day. Just a day. No big deal. And if you're a child like me and still have an advent calendar at the age of 31 then eat a chocolate every morning in celebration of banking another sober day.

Sobriety is all in the mind-set - and if you have a clear and low-pressure strategy (i.e. the day-by-day approach) from the outset I'm sure you'll have a higher success rate of staying sober during the more difficult boozier times - like Christmas, birthdays, weddings, holidays etc. 

    

I'm chuffed I've completed my first Christmas sober but I do feel like I'm riding a bit of a 'pink cloud' wave at the moment - so maybe that's why I feel like I've cruised through December and New Year (with the exception of the car breaking down as we arrived at my friends NYE party, that was embarrassing!).  

But equally I do feel stronger and more experienced now, and mostly excited for my six month sober chip to land in a few days on January 8th. I've got positive vibes for the year ahead, here's hoping for a smooth start!