Anywhere else but here

Quick panicky post.

I'm currently sat in the lobby of the Hotel de France in Jersey and I'm nervous. Nervous that I'm in another country (technically, although it still feels like home) and all I can think about is alcohol.

I flew over this morning to spend time with a client and we had a really successful meeting. Job done. But the second half of the day is about to start and this is where it gets a little more stressful.

One of my very good friends lives in St Aubins and she's collecting me at 2.00 p.m. to journey back to hers where we'll spend the day together before heading out for dinner. I'm catching the 7.00 a.m. flight back to Gatwick tomorrow morning and I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with one of my bezos (not Jeff).

The downside though, is that I haven't stopped thinking about alcohol since I arrived at the airport at 5.30 a.m. And the reason is because I haven't yet been to an airport sober. As I was walking through departures I felt a sense of...holiday. You know the one, make it through security Em and jump in the nearest bar. It's an airport, they were invented for crack of sparrows-boozing! Look, everyone's doing it!  

As I made my way to the first floor of duty free I spotted two ghosts of ready-to-fly Em. The first was with all her friends pre-holiday - cackling and guzzingly Coronas in the musty surrounding of spoons - en route to a girls' long weekend in the sunshine. The second ghoul was quieter. My solo traveller-shadow tucked away in the corner, pretending my glass of Sauvignon Blanc was absolutely acceptable before 6.00 a.m. My airport attendance, for business or pleasure, always revolved around departure lounge boozing. 

So as I sat in Starbucks lovingly clutching my matcha almond milk latte I became restless. And frustrated. And aggy. I hadn't actually prepared for the airport feels and it started to piss me off. I can't put into words why... but waves of regret mixed with hysterical apprehension started to wash over me.

Sure I could make it to midday without having a drink, why wouldn't I, but for the love of GOD I wish my brain would stop defaulting to holiday mode:

1) You're at an airport Em. Have a drink, go on. You used to do it all the time and never had any issues.

2) You're going to be in another country and meeting up with gorgeous fun-loving Abbie who you used to drink champagne with all the time. No one at home will know. Go on, let you hair down.

My mind chatter was/is killing me.

So I have a choice.

1) Drink and become a drinker again. And not hit five months sober which is due to land on Saturday, 8th December (TWO DAYS).

2) Take a deep fucking breath, protect my sobriety and have the balls to say I'm not drinking.

It's days like today which make me realise that I'm still weak and entirely vulnerable, and that my non-drinking rationale is very much dictated by the situations I'm in and the boundaries of familiarity.

It's becoming a common theme. First-time sober happenings - like my being at the airport without drinking and now meeting up with an old friend overseas - is really pushing my self control to the limit.

My body isn't craving booze, but my mind is going bonkers for it.

I'm going to shut my laptop and attempt 15 minutes of meditation in the middle of the bloody lobby. Why not. I've been doing a lot of reading on mindfulness and how just a tiny bit of 'time-out' can resolve even the most scattiest of brain bitching.

I've given it a go for the past two mornings and have no idea if I'm doing it right, but I'm hoping a subdued period of concentrating on my breathing can calm me the eff down.

I just want to fly home now :(