It's Sunday, 23 September 2018 and I'm 77 days sober, reflecting on what has been one of the busiest working weeks of my year culminating in a very boozy dinner party last night.
I've previously talked about situations I seem to find more pressured than others - for example I'm actually pretty fine navigating weddings sober (which I thought would be the most difficult) but cosy dinner parties at home seem to be the worst.
We hosted two couples last night so there was six of us including Rob and I. As opposed to the dinner party I tackled a few weeks back (which had been planned well before I went sober) this night had been organised only a few weeks prior. Rob had asked me if I fancied hosting a get together and I said yeah, absolutely! What I should have said was I'd prefer not to babe as I'm finding dinner parties exceptionally tough at the mo and they kind of make me want to curl up and die. Hurrah!
But I don't want to be that sober person who irrationally ruins everyone else's fun (I am totally living in fear of that right now), so I suck it up and pretend another dinner party off the grog is well within my skill set.
A few hours before kick-off I received a message from one of our friends asking what my favourite wine is. I read it and thought you know what, I'm just going to drink tonight. It'll be much easier to drink and I wont have to endure the raised eyebrows and pregnant whispers. After the week I'd had juggling difficult work events and a visit to see my poorly Nan I wasn't in the mood to play hide-and-seek with my drinking.
So despite being fully determined to pack in my sobriety I decided to (out of habit) implement a little trick to add weight to my decision making. If I'd pass this test I'd be back in the drinking game.
I began to hypothetically predict the night's events should I delve into the vino - just to see what the outcome would be and the fun I'd have along the way! After all, I've nailed over 70 sober days, I can handle my booze now and I know when to stop! Yeah I'd never managed it before but it's different now, I'm different now. Now I'm in control.
Here's what would have happened:
5.30 p.m. I open a bottle of red and pour myself a glass while getting ready. Oh how I've missed thee sweet nectar.
6.30 p.m. I continue drinking through dinner prep. Red wine on the go and simmering home-made paella, how fab is this! I'm sophisticated again!
7.30 p.m. Guest arrival - I'm 3/4 of my way through my first bottle. Loose and relaxed, welcome one and all to the best dinner party of all time.
8.00 p.m. We sit down to dinner. I'm a bottle in and loving life. But everyone's drinking tonight so it's A-OK!
8.30 p.m. I'm free pouring wine to myself and my guests. We're all drinking, lets get on it. Everyone is having wine too so my personal consumption is unnoticeable. Win. I love dinner parties.
9.00 p.m. My teeth are purple and I'm drunk. Probably two bottles in by now. But it's OK, Rob's down the other end of the table and hasn't noticed any of this.
Side note: He has noticed and has been noticing all night.
9.30 p.m. I'm slurring and don't know I am, but I'm loving the fact I'm on great, drunk form and everyone's drunk too!
Side note: I'm a bottle of wine ahead of everyone else and I'm by far the most drunk at the table. I can't hold a coherent conversation and I haven't checked my make-up since our guests arrived. I look and act pissed and my sophisticated self begins to unravel, quickly.
10.00 p.m. We move to the snug to watch the boxing. Anthony Joshua is fighting so we pour more drinks, this night is going great!
Side note: My brain starts to flicker and prepares itself for black out. I have roughly half an hour left of consciousness before the night turns black.
10.30 p.m. I'm three bottles in by now and I'd like to say I'm loving the fight and looking after our guests needs. But I'm 100% sure I fall asleep on the sofa in a ball of dribbling mess. 70+ days of sobriety have lightweighted me into oblivion.
Side note: I won't remember anything past 10.00 p.m. when I wake up now.
11.30 p.m. Our guests leave. I wake up and take myself to bed. Despite my impromptu nap it's been a great night, right?
Side note: Rob has to wake his crumpled heap of a wife and drag her off the sofa to bed. I attempt to start a fight about how judgemental he is when I've only 'had a few' and probably lay into him for letting me undo all my hard, sober work. We then fight and I pass out.
03.00 a.m. Wake up dazed and gasping for water. Throbbing headache. No recollection of the night ending.
08.00 a.m. Wake up fully with a stinking hangover. 76 days of sobriety erased. Apologise to Rob - have no idea what for but he's mad and disappointed.
11.00 a.m. Dominos Pizza opens. I order my weekend calorie allowance in one sitting. I haven't had pizza in nearly three months! I deserve this!
Side note: I am so bitterly upset. I'm back to square one and I'm a fucking failure.
12.00 p.m. I'm drinking again now, so I may as well have a hair of the dog to cure my hangover?
Side note: I need alcohol. I can't do life without it. May as well get pissed again to deal with the self loathing. My name's Em and I'm addicted to booze.
And so it starts again. The dark tape on repeat. The merry-go-round of doom. A life controlled by Blix and his soul-crushing advice.
My predictions shook me and I was quickly 'back in the room'. I decided to ignore the text about the wine - and I know that sounds rude - but I simply didn't know what to say. I didn't have the power to muster a reply so I closed the screen and left it.
Fast forward to 8.30 p.m. in reality and our guests are having a great night. The paella is a huge success and I'm on my second glass of non-alcoholic red wine and no one has noticed. I didn't announce it when people walked in, I just simply poured them the real deal and looked after myself. I know my obsession with people judging my non-drinking is irrational but tonight...I'm kind of realising that my sobriety is far from the focus. We're talking, laughing, eating...no one knows my wine is fake and I'm loving it.
To get through the group dinner top-ups I make my wine last and ensure I add a little more when I nip out to the kitchen to get beers for the non-wine drinkers. So when our friends come to pour more wine at the table my glass is pretty full and I politely decline as I wouldn't want to mix reds.
We move to the snug to watch the boxing and everyone is merry and in a great mood. I'm fully present and decide to switch drinks to Becks Blue (yet to find an AF red wine that still tastes good after two glasses). I do get a few strange looks but I say I'm really trying to cut down and no one bats an eyelid. I even get a few 'good for yous!' and again, people just carry on with the night.
It gets to midnight and our friends receive a text from their cabby saying he's broken down and can't collect them. So I mention I'm fully capable of driving and we pile in the car - laughing about the last time we were all in a taxi and I ended up breaking Rob's hand by slamming it in the door (a tale for another time!) - but it's lovely. My head is clear and I'm helping my friends get home. It sounds so stupid to say...but sobriety is making me so much more capable.
I return home and it's 1.00 a.m., Rob heads straight to bed and conks out in a drunken haze but I decide to give myself a head start in the morning. I head to the kitchen and put on some jazz music as I clear the plates and load the dishwasher. The house is now so peaceful having been a buzzing ball of good energy little over an hour ago. I finish the final inch of my non-alcoholic wine, kiss the empty bottle goodnight and pop it outside to be recycled.
I feel warm and fuzzy from the exhaustion and so happy I've accomplished yet another high pressured dinner party situation (which was entirely different to the first, and in a good way).
There were two big-time sliding door moments on Saturday night and I am so glad I stayed strong and remembered the outcome of scenario one which was drenched in booze. No matter how many times I try and convince myself I can handle just one or two I know, deep down, this is not the case any more.
This is why I've tried so hard, on so many occasions, to kick the habit but have never managed to escape the tightening grip of alcohol. I simply can't dip in and out, so now it has to be out. All out.
I love you Sunday, 23 September. You are my 77th day of winning and I am so, so happy to have you.
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