A time for reflection

This time last year I was in town at an event pumped with complimentary champagne. The celebration was at London's Natural History Museum and I didn't have a plus one, so the only way to survive the evening was to turn up tipsy and leave drunk, without (hopefully) making a tit of myself. Take full advantage of the free Champagne, Em, obviously.

There's no real 'oh my God' scandal with this story but I've been thinking about it a lot recently so decided to share my thoughts. I guess it's because of just how different I am, a year on and almost five months sober.

In truth I thought I was living the dream. Invited to a highly exclusive event to drink the finest fizz and sample world class cuisine? Bit of me! But underneath the excited and slightly nervous exterior was an addict preparing for lift off.

A) I was alone, no plus one. Despite feeling slightly on edge about this I turned it into a positive. No one to keep track of the drinks I was putting away. I could chug as many as I wanted without receiving judgment or rudely out-drinking my counterpart. Big plus.

B) I could buy a fresh packet of cigarettes and smoke as many as I liked. This would give me something else to do between lapping the bar and small talk.

C) I ensured I got the train so the free bar was mine. Mine for the taking.

Never at any stage did I stop to think how the evening could benefit me commercially, or how I could use this as a chance to network my ass off among some hugely influential and very affluent people. Nope, I just thought about the booze. Priority numero uno.

Roughly 20 minutes into my arrival I was two flutes and a cigarette in. By the fourth flute and second cigarette I was tipsy verging on drunk but still able to speak without slurring my words. This usually kicked in around the 7/8 drink mark so I needed to ensure I found the host to thank him before I had too many.

Luckily I did, but I was six flutes in by this stage and had only digested nicotine. The evening food was fiddly to hold so I decided to allocate my hands to my clutch bag and Champagne glass instead. Eating was hassle so I binned it off.

Roughly an hour and a half into the night I spotted my colleague, the host, and shuffled into his line of sight. We managed to hold a momentary chat and I thanked him for the invitation. Job done, he saw me, now lets get some more booze in me before heading home. As the conversation came to a close he shook my hand and leaned in slightly. 'Emily, you're a beautiful lady but cigarettes will ruin you.' He then smiled and bid me a good night. I nervous laughed, smiled back and stepped aside to let him pass.

Bollocks. Anyone else and I wouldn't have cared about a comment like that but this guy was important. I wanted to impress him and I clearly failed. I dusted myself off and went back to the bar before heading outside to smoke another. I smell now so may as well keep going.

It also occurred to me I hadn't checked my make-up in a while (having been occupied by the free bar and all...) so I whipped out my compact to find mascara smudges under my eyebrows and a huge eye bogey escaping my left peeper. Reeking of fags and looking like shit, strong look. 

It was a dismal performance and I left with absolutely nothing accomplished. But this didn't phase me. Why would it? I stepped into the cold London air pissed as a fart and en route to Waterloo where M&S gins in tins would be waiting for me. Two free bottles of Moet consumed and an hour train ride home for me to sink a few more bevs. Perfection.

Until my hangover arrived the next morning. It was raging. So I gave myself the day off and didn't achieve anything for the rest of the week.

The event is taking place again this Thursday and I received my invitation last week, which is why I've been thinking about it so much and whether or not it will be a good idea to go (with alcohol and cigarettes off limits I'm working myself up over the type of experience I'll have). I wont have something to do when the chats dry up and I'm left holding an orange juice.

It shouldn't even be a question really. To make the guest list at an event like this is a huge deal, but here I am weighing up whether I should go because it'll be different without booze or fags. I will have to be present and occupy my time another way. I will have to do the event...properly.

The conversations I'm having with myself seem crazy but I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to see this one through. Blix, my booze demon, is cranking the anxiety dial up day by day - but I'm hoping there's still time for me to calm down, make a plan and do the right thing: attend.

Let's hope my previous post can inspire me to tackle this one head on. I really hope so.

Four months sober and feeling rock solid

I'd like to talk about an announcement I made around the two month sober mark. I was having a conversation with someone and they were quizzing me on my sober 'spell' as they 'cutely' called it.

The chat was completely unbearable and I could tell the person asking me questions about my sobriety wasn't interested in anything I had to say. They'd perfected the whole head tilt, pity smile and slow nod combo to a tee. To be honest I hated discussing my sobriety anyway (in the baby steps days) and still continue to drift away from conversations that either single me out as a non-drinker or are being steered by total dimwits.

So back to the discussion with said twit - it needed an escape hatch, pronto. After a few squirmy minutes of uncomfortable question answering I boldly announced that I was only staying sober for 100 days then would be wholeheartedly back on the booze. Just to shut down the incessant chat centring on the supposed 'dullness of life' sans booze. "Oh my God, Em. How do you do it? I mean, YOU? You love a drink! I'm so excited for day 100. Let's get a celebratory drink booked in when you're normal again!' Chortle, snarf, scoff. BORE OFF.

I quickly made my excuses and scurried off to the toilet where I had time to breathe and sit alone for a brief while (which is now kind of turning into a habit in pressured social situations. I'm starting to grow fond of my solitary bog breathers).

I felt overwhelmed on this particular day and started to get a bit panicky about my sobriety causing me problems (making me feel like an outcast, a fraud etc.), so I decided that a 100 day pact was actually pretty sensible. I knew, deep down, that my non-drinking wasn't a trial - or an experiment - or a fad diet. I absolutely knew it was a change of lifestyle and I couldn't let myself fail again. But at day 60, setting a 100 day limit seemed to help with the panic somewhat. It provided me with a post to set my sights on and I realised this is something I actually do in day-to-day life anyway.

AND <~ (big and), it made people relax. I saw a notable change in their attitudes when I packaged my non drinking up as a 'limited period of time-thing'. Permanent sobriety terrified them, but a 'stint' was much more manageable. Kind of like a 'phew we can still be friends with her' reaction.

But markers, Markers are peppered throughout my life and I've only just really realised. Like when I'm running, I'll look ahead to the distance and focus on something. It could be a road sign, petrol station, parked car - anything in the distance that'll make me go, 'right, reach this point, Em, and then continue to the next goal.' I'm sure there are others that use the same technique, but I find it's a brilliant way to pass the time and push your distance further.

So in the same way I'm setting myself sobriety markers, as I did with 100 days, but markers which I know will be surpassed, yet the people I'm telling them to won't.

Now I've reached four months sober I've immediately set my next milestone - six months - and feel seriously pumped about hitting it. I know the questions are going to fire thick and fast in the lead up to Christmas, but I'll simply say I'm gunning for six months sober and festive drinks can't be a part of that plan. When people start to realise (and get used to) my sobriety being a thing of permanence I'm hoping they'll become bored of asking.

And I guess it sounds like I'm kind of ashamed and reluctant to admit my sobriety, which couldn't be further from the truth. It's just that I'd like to get a few more months of being alcohol free under my belt before I start telling people I'm a non-drinker. I don't know why, but it just feels the right thing to do. I'm now learning to be more gentle with my mind and body after years of abuse through booze...so following my intuition is something I will absolutely be doing.

If I had to summarise my sobriety in three words I'd say... exhausting, turbulent and affirming. In a nutshell: I am knackered from discussing my non-drinking with blockheads (and yes I used to be one), the road has been rocky and on occasion dangerous, but the journey as a whole has affirmed my genuine commitment to wanting to get clean and poison-free.

I'm so proud to reach four months sober and I'm already looking forward to seeing in the New Year with my six month chip.

80 days sober - the truth

It genuinely feels surreal writing this post. I've woken up on day 81 of sobriety and I'm desperately missing alcohol. The good side of alcohol that is. The side I see everyone else enjoying like a normal, proper adult. The party side. The party I'm no longer allowed into.

I need to be upfront and honest about it as the whole point of this blog is me writing about the good, the bad and the ugly to help me get through the dark days and celebrate the good.

In short, non-drinking is a rollercoaster of emotions and this is my main learning at 80 days sober. Some days are spectacular, making you feel like your body is glowing and you're the bi-product of a unicorn having sex with a fairy.

Whereas as other days are bad and lonely and challenging, and your shoulders feel like they're carrying the weight of the world and then some. And all you want to do is dive head-first into an Olympic-sized swimming pool of mojito.

I can't shift the feeling of guilt and remorse too. I'm convinced I've screwed my husband over by trading my cool, glitzy drinking life for one of sobriety. He married a drinker, and now I'm not a drinker. All his friends are married to or dating drinkers who look fit in their 'look at my swanky food and drink' Instagram posts. Why can't he have the same? Who am I to deprive him of that fun? It's only a matter of time until he trades me in for someone who drinks so his life can be fun again.

STOP, EM.

See? The above is my train of thought right here, right now and it's ridiculous isn't it? When I write it down and see the words I want to punch myself in the head and shout GET A GRIP, WOMAN. Or seek out Blix and his evil whispers, smashing his stinking gnarly body against my bedroom walls until his bones are shattered and he bleeds to death. I feel like a trapped landlord, powerless to evict my bastard tenant who has unlawfully acquired squatters rights in my brain.

I really wanted day 80 to be a field of sunshine and pink clouds, but it's more like a damp and dark disused warehouse and I feel pretty lost here.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, sobriety cannot, and I repeat - cannot, be sugar coated. The benefits are real, don't get me wrong, but the effort is constant and tiring and exhausting. And there are situations that have nearly brought me to breaking point and I've only been saved by my surprisingly rock-solid will power.

I don't know how, but I have surpassed day 80 - and I'm unsure whether to be proud of that or...resentful? I kind of feel both. Am I really going to live the rest of my life without the booze buzz? The first sip of wine that instantly erases tension? Nose tickles from the cold bouncing fizz of a decent champagne?

So I've made myself salivate from writing that paragraph but it's true. I'm actually gutted that I'll be trading those moments for a life of sobriety, but then what follows after the fluffy fun stuff? The loss of control, the zombie eyes, the weight gain, the arguments, the bad skin, the 'sick' days off work, the life chaos, the anxiety, the depression, the darkness. I could go on and on about the cons yet it takes me no more than 10 (maybe even five?) seconds to list the pros of drinking.  

I've been stuck in a desperate loop for over three years - trying to cut down by having a week off here and there and failing miserably. And actually within the past year I haven't bothered to slow down at all and my consecutive days on the booze were getting ridiculous.

But now I've got 80 days of abstinence behind me and despite mourning the loss of my old party life I'm much more realistic about my situation now. I am absolutely not someone who can moderate - I know this. If there's a pack of biscuits in front of me I can't have just one, I'll have to eat the whole pack so they're gone. If I'm enjoying a new hobby or sport I'll buy so much active wear and binge participate like a crazy person. If I'm into a series on Netflix I have to watch the whole lot in one go. Tapping out after one or two episodes will drive me insane. A little bit here and wee drop there just isn't me - I have to be all in as it's the only way I can scratch the itch. The tap just keeps on dripping if I feel my business is unfinished.

Same with booze. If a bottle is open I'll finish the lot. And if there's more than one bottle I'll keep going until they're all gone.

So I think that's actually the real reason behind today's mood. Not that I'm desperately craving the boozy good times (which lets face it don't exist any more), but that I'm coming to terms with the fact my new sober life doesn't accommodate certain behaviours.

Yes there are so so so many things I'm missing now I'm sober but the only question I can ask myself is 'what's the alternative'?

In the early days of my sobriety, say within the first 30 days, everything was new and wow. Attending a wedding sober? Piece of piss. Enjoying a hangover-free weekend? Life giving! But it was novel and a shiny and not really any different to the times where I'd 'given up' alcohol before and then slipped back into drinking as a reward for doing so well.

Day 80 is hard core for me and sobriety is no longer an experiment. It's starting to become a lifestyle and today very much feels like a blue or red pill moment. I could still choose to live in the matrix yet I know, deep down, that facing up to reality is the only way I'm going to fix this. And subsequently fix me.