Home again

I met an old lover at Christmas. I knew he would be there, waiting for me, and I knew I would run to his arms. I thought that he would embrace me the moment I arrived at my holiday destination and never let me go. He opened his arms to me, but I said no that first night. I had factored in the number of days I could love him, and still reach my 100 alcohol-free days before the end of the year, so I resisted. He didn't push me. We shared a kiss and a cuddle over the next few days, and I realised that, although I enjoyed his touch, I didn't crave it as I once did. I drank in his love, his warmth, the familiarity of his embrace, but I didn't let him overpower me and now, now that I am back in my own home, I am raising a final glass to him.

I love drink. I love drinking. I love the taste and the freedom.

I hate drink. I hate drinking. I hate the compulsion and the tyranny.

It was great to meet my old lover again and spend time with him, because I know now that he is no good for me. I can't live with him, and I can't live without him.

I know now that I want to live without him. He and I may have a one night stand from time to time, but I will never allow him to dominate me again.

I am grateful for having had this opportunity to sort out my feelings towards my lover, my drink, my bottle. I am grateful for the discovery that, although I love him, I love myself more, I love the person I can be without him, without my drink, without my bottle.

Step 1. I admit that I am powerless over alcohol.

Freezing fog ...

... has brought the country's airports to a standstill. I'm hoping that it will clear by tomorrow as I'm (supposed to be) flying up to Manchester to spend Christmas with friends. All flights from my local airport going north were cancelled today.

This may be my last post until I get back next week, depending on the flight situation! So, in case I am not able to log on while I'm away, I wish all my friends in blogland a very happy and peaceful Christmas.

Have fun, everyone, and thanks for all your support and kind comments over the past 3 months. I'm looking forward to continuing my journey with you all in the new year.

xxx

Sober leaving party

Well, I did it! Today was my last day at work, the office Christmas lunch for 65 people (organized by me) and an after-lunch pub session followed by a meal out. Three different places that sell alcohol and loads of people wanting to buy me a farewell drink. Yesterday I was really stressing about it - so much to do, hardly any time to do it in, potential for tears as I said goodbye to some of the friends I've made, potential for squirming embarrassment if the Managing Director did the decent/normal/human thing of thanking me and giving me a leaving card - and I was muttering to myself all last evening, 'I'll want a drink, I know I'll want a bloody drink.'

But I didn't want a drink after all, when the time came. The Managing Director stood up to make a speech before our lunch arrived and said, 'Christmas again ... blah blah ... this time last year ... blah blah ... aren't we great, haven't we done well ... blah blah ... Linda's leaving ... blah blah ... this time next year ... new contract ... blah blah...'

He sat down and started tucking in to his food and then said, 'Oh, I forgot,' and ambled over to me and handed me a gift bag without a single word, and then went back to his seat. I'm so glad I was sober, because I can remember clearly that that moment just summed up why I was leaving - the totally appalling way the staff are treated as second-class citizens - and reassured me that I have made the right decision to leave.

That aside, a really good time was had by all, and almost everyone came over at some point to wish me luck and thank me for all I'd done. I have a card with signatures and good wishes from everyone, and I have the most gorgeous necklace and bracelet I've ever seen. They're hand-made in silver with amethyst and blue lace agate and each piece by this designer is unique. They must have cost a fortune and I was really touched to realise how much people thought of me, even if the managing director didn't have the grace or the manners to say goodbye or do a proper presentation.

A whole bunch of us went to the pub and I stayed sober there, too. After a few hours we went into town to a new Greek restaurant and they all drank red wine, and I drank water. At 10 I left them in town - they were off to another bar but I was beginning to feel tired and it was time for me to come home.

I stayed sober at my own leaving do! My friends and colleagues won't remember me as someone who got drunk and bad-mouthed the company and the boss, and got too loud and fell over. They will remember me as I want to be remembered - funny, friendly, professional, and sober.

I don't talk about God much in this blog, but I am grateful to Him for giving me the strength to say no to all the offers of alcohol I've had today.

Another sober day to add to all the others on the chalkboard in my kitchen. Another night I shall go to bed and fall asleep because I'm tired, not pass out because I'm drunk. It feels good. It feels very good.

Last day at work

My last day at work isn't until Wednesday, so I haven't had to face the pressure of having a 'few' farewell drinks yet - I've just been trying to plan ahead (ie plan not to!) because until saying no becomes second nature, I find it easier to follow a course of action I've rehearsed.

I'm feeling quite strong at the moment (and I know pride comes before a fall, so I'm careful not to be proud of myself!) and I'm not sure why. It could be because now I know I'm leaving my awful job for a new one, I don't feel so miserable. It could be because I'm enjoying feeling mentally alert right to the end of the day. It could be because it's so nice not to wake up in a sweat in the night with a raging thirst and a horrible taste in my mouth. Whatever the reason, I'm very grateful.

Planning NOT to drink

My last day at work is looming over the horizon and it co-incides with our Christmas lunch - all paid for by the company, including drinks. Some of the friends I've made there have been planning to go into town after the lunch and so many of them have made alternative transport arrangements so that they can 'get wrecked', 'let their hair down' (which means get wrecked) or 'see you off in style' (which also means get wrecked).

I'd been thinking how much I'd like a drink at the Christmas lunch, how much I feel I've earned it after the awful, awful time I've had at that company, and I've been muttering defiantly, 'I'm going to have a drink, I deserve a drink, I never said I was giving up forever.'

But I've thought about it, and I can't be sure it would be just 'a' drink. Certainly heading into town afterwards to hit the bars almost guarantees that I'd come home singing off-key in a taxi or falling over in the street, so I've made up my mind.

Today I sent an email to the colleague who's co-ordinating the after-lunch trip into town to say, 'I'll join you, but I shan't be drinking. I need to keep a clear head, and I'll be driving, so I'll be on soft drinks only.' I'm beginning to find that it's easier just to say no than try and convince myself to stick to 'just the one'. If I was able to stick to 'just the one' I wouldn't be here in the first place!

I guess you'd call that progress?

Regular disappointment ...

I was going to delete this post because I did spend a pleasant couple of hours at my brother's house. He had cancelled his tennis match (he says) and the rest of the family was there after all - eventually. I decided to leave the post as it stands, to remind myself of how I can get so upset, and how it's always led to drinking. If I'd had a drink this afternoon after the 'phone call I'd have gone round in a bad mood. As it was, I'd accepted that this was all I was going to see of them over Christmas so I'd better make the most of it. I'm still disappointed though.

I don't know why I'm even surprised at my family - this happens almost every time I have any contact with them.

'My family' consists of my brother, his wife and their 2 children. They live about a mile away and I see them if I drop in on them - I'm never invited there for a meal or anything. My sister-in-law's mother is there every week from about 40 miles away to spend the day and have a meal with them.

Anyway, they are off to Thailand this Christmas - they leave on Thursday. I asked when I was going to see them so that I could give the girls their presents and my sister-in-law said Monday - today. Then I got an email to say that my brother and my eldest niece would be out so there would just be 2 of them. Not the whole family then. I've taken the day off today and called to say that I could come round earlier so that I could see all of them and it turns out that my younger niece is going out as well, and my sister-in-law is going into town! My elder niece is poorly so isn't going out after all, so, as my sister-in-law said, 'Come round anyway. Someone will be here to let you in.'

Well, merry Christmas, family. You go off to have a lovely time in Thailand. Don't even bother to set aside one evening for me. I've been good enough for years and years to babysit, I've been good enough to drop everything whenever my elder niece (now 16) has a boyfriend crisis, but I'm not good enough for you to spare one evening before Christmas. Thanks. Merry bloody Christmas to you.

If I'd had this kind of telephone conversation with my sister-in-law last Christmas I'd have hung up and promptly poured myself a rum and coke and made myself even more depressed, but I'm not going to do it today. All I'd be doing is adding a hangover to the disappointment.

It hurts me to say this, but I'll say it anyway. They are not worth it.

6 Weird Things About Me

This seems to be the blogging equivalent of those email snowballs you get at this time of year!

6 Weird Things About Me - tough choice, there are so many weird things about me!

1. I like rats, mice, bats and snakes.
2. When someone gives me directions to get somewhere, my brain shuts down and I still get lost.
3. I would rather spend Christmas alone than with friends or family, but have only once managed to co-ordinate my excuses to do that!
4. I don't like New Year celebrations - too much pressure to have fun.
5. I have already planned my 'exit' if I get too old, infirm or ga-ga to look after myself but I will be too old, infirm and ga-ga to carry it out!

I tag... Shannon, Shadow ... and everyone else on my list seems to have already been tagged! So I shall be spending my Sunday stalking bloggers who have remained tag-free! Keep looking over your shoulder, I'll be there somewhere, waiting to tag you!

The Rules - Each player of this game starts with the 6 Weird Things About You. People who get tagged need to write a blog entry of their own 6 Weird Things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says you are tagged in their comments and tell them to read your blog!

Drinking nightmare come true!

When I was drinking I was always careful to stay under the drink-driving limit but there were times, I admit, when I wasn't careful enough, or when my calculations erred on the side of generous. Driving back from friends' houses in the car late at night, if I saw a police car in the rear-view mirror my heart would stop. I'd be terrified of being pulled over for any reason - like speeding, or having a faulty light - because I'd know that if they smelled any alcohol I'd be breathalised and, for all my careful calculations, I just know that sometimes I'd have been over the limit.

Tonight, on a long trip home from a concert at 2am, a police van pulled in behind me. It followed me into the road that peters out into a track going into woodland and I told myself that maybe someone had reported a disturbance in the woods. I turn left before the woods - so did the van. I turned left again - so did the van. I turned into my road, which is a cul-de-sac. The road goes nowhere. You get to the end and you have to turn around to get out again. I turned into my driveway, and the police van pulled up outside my house.

My heart didn't stop. It didn't pound. I was a bit concerned but I wasn't terrified. I got out and asked the officer if everything was OK and he said, 'Your brake light is out. We were called to a shout in your road and I said to my colleague, that poor woman must be really worried with us behind her!'

This poor woman smiled and apologised about the brake light, and the officer said with a smile, 'Oh, don't worry about it, just get it fixed asap - you don't want to get pulled over by the police, it's a £30 fine!'

He could have fined me, but he didn't. If this had happened 3 months ago he'd have smelled alcohol on me and he would have breathalised me and fined me for the brake light. I may or may not have been over the limit. I may or may not have lost my licence.

Thank God my nightmare about being pulled over by the police ended the way it did.

Thank God I've seen sense about my drinking and stopped.

Countdown

News that I've handed my notice in is beginning to filter through the company and there have been a few people who've waylayed me in the corridor to congratulate me on 'getting out' and wish me well for the future. The majority of those people have suggested that we go out for 'a few drinks' one lunchtime before I leave and although my resolve is strong at the moment, I'm feeling the teeniest bit resentful: I'm leaving this awful place! Over the past 20 months I've had the life and soul sucked out of me and I'm not the happy, relaxed, confident person I was when I joined. I've worked very hard to find a new job. Why shouldn't I celebrate with a few drinks?

If I could be sure that it would be just a few drinks I'd probably cave in but, to be honest, I can't say with my hand on my heart that I could stop again once I'd started. So, despite the golden opportunity to unleash the party me and accept all the free drinks I'm offered to celebrate my leaving, I'm going to stick to soft drinks.

And to remind myself that getting drunk isn't any fun, I've added another 'horror story' to my separate blog - links can be found through my profile (until I work out how to add it to the sidebar of this blog!)

Today's the day!

Today's the day I hand in my notice at work - 4pm, to be precise. I've scheduled my regular 1:1 meeting with my line manager for then and in a way I'm looking forward to it, and in another way I am sick with nerves. It's 85% down to him that I'm leaving: his appalling (mis)management of his team (me and 2 others), his lack of communication, his total disinterest in my career, and the fact that he blatantly lied about the job when I came for interview and has done nothing to address my concerns in the 20 months I've been here. I've been the first to defend him to others when things weren't his fault, but I'm not going to carry on letting him get away with all the shit he's been putting me through. I can't let some other poor person get interviewed for my job and end up being as unhappy, demotivated, disenchanted and stressed as I have become, so I'm also sending a letter to the Chief Exec and the MD to explain my reasons - because my line manager sure as hell will try and gloss things over.

I hate confrontation so this afternoon is going to be hard for me. Once upon a time, in a galaxy not very far from where I am right now, I'd have had a drink as soon as I got in from work to 'get over it' (or to celebrate having done it!) but I'm not going to tonight ...

Later that same day ...

I did it. I told my line manager I was leaving. I remained polite and calm. He knew some of my reasons but did not acknowledge his part in my decision. That doesn't matter, he will have to answer to someone other than me for that. I didn't back down on any of the points I made. I came out of his office and went back to mine, which I share with someone who has been, shall we say, difficult and unfriendly, and sometimes downright nasty to me, over the past 20 months. When I told her I was leaving she looked horrified, said, 'Oh no! You can't go!' and jumped up and hugged me and started to cry. Wow! I know a lot of that is because she's going to end up with a lot of my work while they look for someone else but she did seem genuinely sorry that I was going and I thought, all the time she was being difficult and unfriendly and downright nasty, I took it from her and was pleasant back to her, thinking that I was a mug for not answering back or making a fuss, but actually I was doing the right thing.

After that I went to see an ex-colleague who left in the summer. She had the same line manager as me and she couldn't work with him any longer, for the same reasons I couldn't, so she left. Funny, that.

Anyway, the deed is done, the glass of celebratory diet coke has been drunk, and this exhausted blogger is going to bed!

I hope you all sleep well tonight. I know I shall, for the first time in weeks!

Christmas cards

On the first Saturday night in December, I always write my Christmas cards. On the first Sunday in December I used to have to open them all up again to see what I'd written in them. I used to write my cards with first one, then two, then three and more glasses of wine and get more and more emotional as the evening and the pile of Christmas cards lengthened. Usually I hadn't written anything embarrassing, but often the handwriting had become illegible.

Last night I started to write my Christmas cards. This morning I don't need to open any of the envelopes to check the contents. What a bonus to not drinking! No hangover on a Sunday morning and 2 extra hours that would normally be spent opening and re-writing my cards!

Before I forget ...

... something spooky's just happened.

This morning, before I was properly awake, but when I was no longer asleep, I had the drowsy random thought that I would probably never hear a particular song again. It was a song I loved from the very early '70s, '72, I think. I only had it on one of those 'flexi-discs', a 7-inch record made of thin plastic that were sometimes given away free on magazines, and although it was popular at the time, it wasn't a huge hit, and it's almost never played on the radio.

This afternoon, sitting at the computer and getting stuck on the continuation of my novel, I was rather grumpily working out in my head that if I want to get my 100 sober days in before the end of the year I might be able to have a drink on New Year's Eve, or actually at Christmas, but I certainly couldn't have one today, although I do want one. I stood up to go downstairs and check the calendar to count the days and make sure I couldn't squeeze a drink in tonight and I heard three distinctive notes on the radio - the song I'd been half-thinking, half-dreaming of this morning!

So I turned the radio up and sang along and now I don't want a drink any more, the desire has passed.

It may sound ridiculous, but it's little things like this that tell me God does actually care about me. I know He exists, but I feel bad about making calls on His time, when there is so much else going on the world, and so many other people with much greater needs than mine. It's as if I don't feel important enough to Him. Something as simple as that song just now on the radio is like a hand on my shoulder and a voice saying, 'You're doing great and I'm here for you, you just have to ask - oh, and I was listening, I am always listening, even when you're not asking, so here's that song.'

Right, I'm going to stop crying now and get on with my novel, now that I've had my musical reminder that what I do does matter.

Broken wrist

No, not now! I've been reading MC's blog - problems with her back, poor thing - and I was reminded of the time I broke my wrist, just over 2 years ago. I fell over backwards, put my hand out to save myself, and fell awkwardly onto it, fracturing the radius and the ulna. Everyone, without exception, assumed I'd been drunk. I was most offended because I was stone cold sober, it was 8 in the morning and I'd just put on a pair of new shoes that were higher than I normally wear, and I wobbled and fell.

That first evening I decided that, apart from having a month off work in mid-summer, but not being able to drive the car to go anywhere to enjoy it, the very worst thing about breaking my wrist was that I couldn't uncork a bottle of wine. I was so frustrated that I went to my next-door neighbour (a non-drinker because she's never liked the taste) with bottle and corksrew and asked her to help me. She did so, but gave me a very disapproving look and asked me if I thought it was a good idea while I was on the horse-strength pain-killers I'd been given. I said that I only wanted a small glass, and that the bottle would probably last a week. Who was I trying to kid? Only my neighbour - I knew I'd finish it all in one go.

Not wanting to spend the next month trying different neighbours every night to open my wine for me, I discovered the joys online grocery shopping and screw-top bottles.

After the first month I was signed off for another 4 weeks. The time just flew past - day-time television and at least one bottle of wine daily. What a wicked waste of 2 months at home! I shan't be wasting time like that again, that much I do know!

Happiness!

I DID IT!

I passed the 50,000 word mark around midday, 29 November. The novel - The Living and the Dead - is not finished and won't be until some time in December, but the deal was to get 50,000 words done in November and I've done it!

So that's my goal for December - finish the novel. It will be the first I've completed since 1996, and it will really set me back on track for the new year.

I love goals (when I complete them, that is!) I've completed my goal of a totally sober October, and I'm going to complete my goal of 100 sober days in 2006 as long as I don't slip badly at Christmas, and I've completed my November goal of writing 50,000 words. I've succeeded in my 2006 goal of finding a new job and I am H - A - P - P - Y!

And now I'm going to go and reward myself - NO, not with a drink, with a nap! I'm exhausted!

Sadness

A fellow blogger posted yesterday about feeling sad for no apparant reason, just feeling sad and tired. I haven't asked her permission to link to that post, so I haven't, but it got me thinking.

I've suffered from depression most of my life, although it was only diagnosed 10 years ago, and I've been taking anti-depressants ever since. My depression is the chemical-imbalance kind, not due in particular to any trauma in my life, although traumas coming on top of my depression do tend to be overwhelming, which is what had me beating a path to my doctor's door in the first place.

Having a sad day used to scare me because on top of feeling sad was the fear that it was the start of a major cycle of depression. There was also the fear that I was not allowed to be sad or down. Now, that was an irrational fear based on things like the fact my dad would always comment when I was miserable, but never when I was happy, so I felt that I was never happy enough. And my mother, who I think probably suffered terribly from depression herself but never went to the doctor about it or took anything for it, often used to say that I was the only person who could make her laugh. No pressure on me then! So if I had a down day it became a major source of anxiety to me - no-one would love me any more if I wasn't making them laugh! My mum would get even more depressed if I couldn't cheer her up! - so what did I do to cheer myself up? Why, I had a 'nice' drink, of course! If I was going out with a group of friends (all of whom saw me as the unpaid cabaret, it often seemed to me) I'd have to get into the mood by having a drink before I went out to meet them. Of course, alcohol being a depressant meant that by trying to make myself feel better, I was actually making myself feel worse!

Because I now understand my fears and my need to put on a cheerful act for others, I don't need to drink to mask those fears. I never needed to drink to mask them, I just needed to understand them. What was left after I understood myself better was the very very bad habit of automatically pouring a drink whenever I felt any strong emotion, positive or negative, and it's that habit I'm trying to break now (and still succeeding!)

Nowadays I accept sadness for what it is. Most of the time if I'm sad I know why, and if there seems to be no reason for it, well, I just accept that we can't all be happy all of the time. I no longer have the fear that one sad day is going to lead to weeks of not even being able to drag myself out of bed and get dressed.

Understanding a problem and wanting to solve it will bring you at least half way to a solution. I understand better now why I used to drink and I want to stop, so I know that I can, as long as I take it one day at a time.

The finishing line

I thought that having a new job lined up and heading towards the finishing line here would make my current place of work easier to bear. I arrived this morning and for the first 20 minutes everything was fine but now - for a stupid, pathetic reason - I feel close to tears and want to say, 'Screw the lot of you' and walk out. But I can't and now I just have to sit here with this feeling. It's too early in the day for me to even think about wanting a drink, but the thought did cross my mind and I realise that the thought is always going to cross my mind when things go wrong for me - it's what I do that counts though, and by the time I get home the feeling will have gone, the thought will have gone, and I shall have another sober day.

Later that same day

Lunch out with a friend, a chat, and sanity and good humour are restored. Hurrah for friends!

I was offered a job on Tuesday! And I only went for the interview that morning! I really got on well with the man I'd be working for and felt we had an instant understanding (no, it was not a lust thing - I don't fancy him and I'm probably old enough to be his mother). Before that I had a chat with an HR person and had to trot out the same old answers to the same old questions: 'Can you give me an example of a time when you .... ' It's so hard to answer those questions and sound fresh and enthusiastic when you've answered them a dozen times (more, in my case!) because you don't want to sound as if you've been looking for work for more than 6 months and are getting desperate. I felt a bit deflated after that. Then I had a test on Excel, which I am not good at - just basic add and subtract, really! So I couldn't do all of that, and some of the bits I could do were pure fluke ... At the end of the Excel test I almost said I didn't think there was any point in wasting the European Financial Director's time but I thought, 'I've come this far...'

Anyway, we seemed to hit it off, he said I was one of the strongest candidates he'd seen (he hadn't seen my Excel test results though ...) and that he only had one more person to see. I went home and phoned the agency to tell them how it had gone and they'd just got off the phone with him - he hadn't even seen this afternoon's candidate and he wanted to offer me the job!

YIPPEE!

The extra salary will be eaten up with petrol costs because it's 17 miles away, and although it's a shorter working week, my day will be longer because of the travel but I don't care, it's a proper job, doing proper work, not just sorting out the post and reporting leaking toilets like I've been doing for the past 18 months. They want me to start on 2 January. That means I don't have to give my notice in until 5 December, and I'm on holiday from 21 December until 3 January anyway (offices close, plus I've taken 2 days extra). With the overtime I've done recently, and the holiday I'll have accrued to the end of the year, I could actually finish on 11 December - effectively only 1 week's notice. How funny that would be, considering it takes them a good 3 months to get around to even placing an ad for staff ... HA HA HA! And I wouldn't feel bad AT ALL about leaving certain colleagues to pick up the pieces, seeing as they've been so quick to put me down all the time. If they think they can do the job better or do without me, let them try.

I will miss some of my colleagues. Some, I can't wait to see the back of...

I've been drinking vastly more since working here because I've been so miserable. I hoped that by stopping drinking I'd feel better about this place, but I hate it just as much, but with a clearer head. It's going to be GREAT to start off the new year in a new job and without a hangover... Mind you, I have to get through new year's eve first and that's always been a very very drunken night for me in the past. Not this time though - I am determined!

Two things

There are 2 things I want to post about tonight but maybe one can wait until tomorrow. We'll see how long part 1 gets!

Last night I watched a documentary made earlier this year which followed 4 alcoholics during and after their stays in hospital, and after the documentary there was an interview with the doctor and a couple of other speakers on drinking in the UK.

Of the 4 people the documentary followed, 2 died during the making of it. One was a young single mother who drank, she said, out of boredom. She didn't consider herself an alcoholic because she didn't drink every day. She did binge drink, though, on a very regular basis. She was brought into hospital after a binge because she was vomiting blood and had lost 4 pints before she even got to hospital. She made it after that binge and said she wouldn't drink 'as much' again. But she did, and a few days later she was dead. She was 23.

The other person who died had been sober for 10 years, but the damage he had caused to his liver prior to that could not be repaired. Because he had been sober for so long he would have been considered for a liver transplant but his condition deteriorated so quickly that there was no time to even get him on the waiting list.

The third was a man of 29 who was drinking 2 bottles of vodka a day. The whites of his eyes were completely yellow. When he got drunk he self-harmed, and his chances of survival were only 50/50.

The last person was a woman of 43. She said herself she looked 63 and that was generous. After 8 weeks in hospital she swore she'd never drink again. Within hours of going home she was back on the vodka and, although she says she's happier and drinks less than she did, her mobility has been affected and she now walks with a frame.

It was a 'sobering' film, and although it showed the very depths of these people's lives, ultimately I don't think it will have any effect on the watchers' drinking habits, because these people were 'extreme'. It is too easy to look at these people and say, 'Two bottles of vodka a day? No wonder they're like that! I don't drink that much.'

I think the film would have been far more shocking, and ultimately have had more impact, if they had shown a handful of people who thought their drinking was 'normal' and looked at the health problems that was causing. A huge percentage of the population, according to a survey I read today, are far more worried about diet, lack of sleep and too much stress than they are about drinking, yet the number of alcohol-related illnesses is climbing every day, and drinkers are getting younger.

If I'd seen a documentary about someone who drank the same amount as I used to (which I considered a bit above normal but hey, I was used to it, I could handle it) and then found out the health problems that were already underway, I may have given up or at least cut down years ago. Programmes about extreme behaviour don't do anything for self-awareness, they just widen the gulf between 'them' and 'us', and make it harder for 'us' to identify with the problem.

I'll get down off my soap-box now and save my other news for tomorrow!

My earliest addiction

My earliest addiction was - and still is - story-telling. I started putting it all on paper a little over 30 years ago and at my most prolific I wrote 5 novels in one year, while doing a full-time job. I wasn't drinking then. Funny, that...

I've never had anything published, but that isn't the main point of my writing (although it would be lovely to have a royalty cheque). The point is that while I'm writing, I am creating a whole world, one that absorbs me and makes me laugh and cry and want to dance and sing. I would like other people to enjoy that world too, and one day it will happen, I know it.

The last novel I completed was about 10 years ago. A lot happened in between 1992 - 1995. I'd always enjoyed a drink but the events of that period - nothing unusual, nothing other people don't have to go through in their lives - put a pressure on me that I couldn't handle and I think that's when my drinking became more of a problem.

A few weeks before I decided I was going to quit drinking (not forever, you understand, just to make sure I could - how many people have you heard say that?) I discovered a writing competition - National Novel Writing Month. The prize was the pride in being able to say, 'I completed a 50,000 word novel in a month.' Day 1 of novel-writing, 1 November, coincided with the first month anniversary of my last drink. Hangover-free, no longer mentally pouring my next drink, I've found my mind has been free to indulge in my real, guilt-free, addiction: writing. The hardest part is knowing when to stop! I could keep on writing all night tonight - it's flowing so well - but I have work in the morning and although it's a horrible job that I loathe, I still have enough pride to want to show up and do it well.

Instead of taking a final drink to bed, which I used to do, I'm taking my main characters with me. I'll be thinking about what they'll be doing next on the page, not when I can have another drink. It's been a nice evening, me, my computer, a sandwich and a diet coke - and the blogs of others who are re-discovering what life is really all about without alcohol casting its shadow.

Goodnight. See you tomorrow.

Early blog

It's early to be writing my blog, but I want to turn off the internet and go downstairs, make something to eat (I've been living on crisps and eccles cakes today) and settle down in front of the last of the Lord of the Rings trilogy on television. I lent my DVD copy to someone and haven't seen it (or her!) since, so I'm looking forward to seeing it again, even if it is going to be interrupted by adverts.

As I was 'telling' my millenium story on my blog last night I thought it might be good for me if I wrote down all my drink-induced horror stories - maybe on a separate blog, not here. Over the years I've honed them into highly-amusing after dinner stories, playing up the funny bits, and glossing over the parts where I threw up or fell over, or made phone calls that still make me cringe ... It's not as if I'm going to forget how awful it can be to be so drunk, but as I notch up another sober day it's a bit too easy to tell myself that I really wasn't that bad. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I was that bad - not every day, but increasingly. The trend was definitely upwards, I just got better at hiding it and explaining it away. At the moment it feels as if I've stopped myself in time, before I've hit rock bottom, but I can't afford to become complacent.

I just need to think of what horror stories to put in and which to leave out!

After a good night's sleep ...

... I felt a bit better. I planned to work on my novel all day before going to the theatre with a friend, but after being awake for only two hours I felt so tired and headachey I just had to go back to bed and lie down for an hour. The hour turned into almost 7 and I got up again at 5pm! I thought that now I don't spend my evenings getting drunk, I wouldn't need to spend the days sleeping it off, but evidently I needed a few extra hours today.

I picked my friend up and we went to the theatre in a nearby town. We were having such a laugh in the car that we missed the turning and twelve miles further down the motorway, she said, 'Shouldn't we be there by now?' We still got there in time, found our seats and sat down just as the curtain went up.

Once upon a time I'd have wanted to get to the theatre really early so that I could have a drink at the bar before the show started, and order drinks for the half-time interval. From about halfway through the first act I'd be fidgetting because I'd need to go to the loo - all the alcohol would have worked its way through me. This time I could enjoy the show without worrying about where the nearest toilet was, and whether my drink would be waiting for me at the interval. When you're only drinking diet coke, it's not such a big deal!

The show was great, a parody on the life of the Bronte sisters, called 'Withering Looks'. We laughed 'til we cried and it was a great evening out.

Sue is one of the few friends who has witnessed a spectacularly bad drinking episode of mine. Most of my heavy drinking was done at home, solo, with no witnesses, but Sue has seen the worst of it - it happened at her house, millenium new year. I'd been drinking heavily before I even got there (her husband came and picked me up) and I proceeded to drink the best part of a bottle of whisky during the evening. By about 10pm all thoughts of staying up to see in the new year had gone - I just wanted to lie down so I went upstairs and fell asleep on the floor in one of the bedrooms. Just before midnight, Sue came to wake me up so that I could wish everyone a happy new year, and have a glass of champagne.

So, along with everyone else at the party, I went out into the street, hugged strangers, wished them happy new year, and went back upstairs to lie down again. The champagne on top of all the whisky, the lack of food to soak it up, and the extremely over-heated bedroom all got too much for me and I decided I had to have some fresh air. I knelt on the bed, opened the window and the fresh air hit me and I threw up out of the window. Once I started I couldn't stop. I could hear everyone downstairs groan in disgust and slam the windows shut. I hoped that no-one had parked their car under the window, because I was still throwing up.

The first thing I heard in the morning was the sound of Sue's husband hosing down the drive. When I could move without being sick again into the basin she'd kindly put there for me in the night, he drove me home, waving aside my apologies.

Sue's kept my secret and never told anyone about that disgusting episode. I am very very lucky she's still my friend and I am very very glad that I will never embarrass myself like that again.

Another week over

Another sober Friday night! That's 7 in a row ... and every day in between!

I'd like to say that I feel like a new woman - physically and emotionally. In fact, I feel very much like the 'old' one, only moreso. Now that there is no alcohol to numb me to certain things, I cannot help but face up to the fact that I don't always like myself, that I doubt my ability (even more because of these last 6 months of trying to find another job, only to be rejected every single time) and that I cannot see a good future for myself. Drinking helped me become deaf, dumb and blind, if only temporarily, to the things I didn't like about myself, and the things that scared me. I feel that I just don't 'fit' anywhere, and drinking used to help me fit. Now that I don't have the alcohol to smooth off the rough edges I need to learn new ways of fitting, or accepting that I don't fit.

Maybe it's because I'm so very tired that everything seems black at the moment, so I'll go to bed and hope that everything looks a little brighter in the morning. At least I can look forward to a hangover-free morning - that's something to be happy about!

Time flies

Time flies when you're drinking, or so it seems. Actually, you're either passed out for a good chunk of time or you simply don't remember it.

I had forgotten that time can fly when you're sober, too. How I ever found the time to drink I don't know! I'm not saying that I have more energy now, but I do feel less sluggish when I wake up.

It's been a busy few days since my last post - and about to get busier - and I've been suffering from the mother and father of all colds that is threatening to turn nasty because I'm not able to take time off work and stay at home to get better. Last time I was sick like this was about 4-5 years ago. I used to tell people that I didn't get colds because the alcohol killed the germs before they could get hold of me, and I must admit at the weekend I did think longingly of my favourite cold remedies - Lemsip laced with rum, or simply drinking huge quantities of rum and coke, to sweat the cold out of my system. I've been turning out my kitchen cupboards and I keep finding little boxes of hot toddy sachets, mulled wine sachets, and mulled wine spiced syrup ... It all points to how much I was drinking regularly.

On Friday night I went out with 4 former colleagues. I drank diet coke at the pub before we went to the restaurant, and at the restaurant I drank water. All but one of my friends kept asking me why I wasn't drinking (my responses ranged from, I'm taking too many paracetemol for my cold to risk it/I've got an early start in the morning/I don't feel like it/I can't taste it at the moment with this cold so it's a waste) and they all kept on joking that I'd been abducted by aliens and a stranger had been left in my place. I did feel quite alien - not myself, not the life and soul and not really very interested in anything any of them had to say - and that wasn't a nice feeling at all. I wonder if I was always so quick to drink to fit in with these people? Individually they're very nice, but I never did enjoy going out in groups ...

I'm going out again tonight with a couple of colleagues. We're all very stressed and tempers are frayed. I think I'd rather stay at the hotel! But I'll go and be sociable, and I won't retreat into my usual ploy of a few drinks to make the evening go more smoothly. I'll get the hang of this sobriety lark if it kills me!

Excuses and reasons

Not so very long ago (39 days, soon to be 40, to be precise) I would find lots of excuses to drink and call them reasons, the main ones being, 'I've had a bad day' or 'I like the taste'.

Now I'm looking ahead to Friday night, when I'm going out for dinner with a group of normal-drinking friends, and next week, when I'm going to London on business and a night out is being planned before the Board meeting, and the office Christmas lunch, when the company is actually going to pay for drinks as well as a meal, and I've found myself preparing excuses not to drink - the main ones being, 'I'm driving' or 'I've got to get up early tomorrow'.

But I don't need excuses not to drink, just a reason. The reason is I don't want to.

I am grateful today that :

• I don't crave a drink
• Although I still wake up with a headache every day, it goes by the time I get to work
• My mother encouraged the habit of prayer, because I've remembered how, and it's helping me now
• Although I really really dislike my job, I do have a job, which is more than hundreds of thousands of people in this country can say
• I have the opportunity to do voluntary work, which is more rewarding than I can say

A week on

Nearly a week on from my first alcohol-free month, and I'm still sober!

It's 37 days now, and although a drink would be really, really nice, there is so much else going on that I just can't afford not to be on top form. I had an interview today, I have one tomorrow, possibly a 2nd interview on Friday for the one I went for today, and another interview next Friday. On top of that I'm trying to get ahead of my writing goal for NaNoWriMo (see banner on the right). In theory it should take a word-count of 1666 a day throughout November, but because I have so many evenings when I'm going to be out I really need to be doing almost double that!

So, you see, I can't afford to time to drink and to recover!

But I am taking the time to read the my favourite blogs, and to read a chapter from AA and/or a personal story every night, so all in all I'm as happy as I can be, and I'm happy to be sober!

I did it!

I did it! I have completed a whole month without alcohol, and it hasn't been half as difficult as I'd feared, mainly because I've had various blogs to read to keep me inspired, so thank you to all recovering bloggers who have written with such honesty about your lives.

And now that October is over? Well, another month begins and I'm not planning to drink, and I won't let it 'just happen' either. From what I've been reading (just got my AA book and read every night before I turn out the light) it seems too easy to just somehow find yourself with a drink in your hand without really thinking about it, so I need to keep in mind at all times that I do not drink.

The longest I've ever gone without alcohol since I started to drink regularly is 40 days - the 40 days of Lent. Up until about 4 years ago I was able to give up alcohol for Lent with no problem, but I'd always have a celebratory drink on Easter Monday and carry on drinking for the rest of the year. So I know I can do 40 days, and that's my next goal - Thursday 9 November will be 40 days of 'not Lent', and after that it's all uncharted waters for me.

I'm looking forward to the voyage of discovery ...

Happy Hallowe'en!

Not something any of us will be doing tonight!

Today is an important day for me for several reasons. Hallowe'en has traditionally been a very busy time for me as I'm usually organising parties for various kids of all ages up to 55, or at the very least hiding behind my front door dressed as something unspeakably scary, ready to jump out on the trick or treaters.

This year, however, 31 October is not only Hallowe'en, but also my 31st day with no alcohol. I'm going out for a drink tonight - DIET COKE!!! - and I know I'm not going to blow it, or be swayed in any way. Right now, I have no desire to drink alcohol. I'm going out to meet some people I've never met before, so they won't know me as 'someone who likes a drink' and will accept me, without question, as someone who doesn't drink.

Tonight also marks the last night of freedom for a while because, as you will see from the link on the right, tomorrow is the first day of National Novel Writing Month, so I shall have my head down over my keyboard at every available opportunity. It's going to be a good month to (continue to) stay sober because I don't drink when I'm writing - I write rubbish if I do! And I'm going to meet fellow NaNo writers tonight to generally talk about how we're going to manage to juggle family, jobs and 50,000 words before 30 November. Usually the idea of meeting brand new people would have me heading for a stiff drink beforehand, but not today, not when I've been doing so well.

I thought, a month ago when I embarked on this 'trial run', that by the end of it I'd really be 'dying for a drink' and that I'd have lined up a nice quiet evening for myself where I could finish off the bottle of rum I pushed to the back of the cupboard 31 days ago. In fact, the rum will stay where it is and I shall carry on.

And it will be very nice not to feel the way I usually feel after a Hallowe'en party with my friends: (and here was going to be a great, seasonal picture, but for some reason Blogger doesn't want me to be greedy and have 2 pictures on my post ...)

Have a little faith

I had a big disappointment on Friday. I'd had a really good interview for a new job on Thursday - a job I'd love, and one I know I can do. The director who interviewed me seemed as enthusiastic about my abilities as I was about the job, and promised I would have a decision the following day.

So, on Friday I called the agency and they'd just got off the 'phone with the director. He had told them I was by far and away the best person for the job BUT ... they needed someone to start as soon as possible, and as I had to give a month's notice at my current job, they had decided to go with their second choice.

While it was nice to hear all the good things he said about me, that doesn't really help me in my current situation, which is, a job I hate, at a salary I can't live on, with people who treat me like a trained monkey most of the time.

So it's been hard to pick myself up from that disappointment and I'm still upset, but I need to have a little faith. The fact I didn't get this job must mean that something better is out there.

On the positive side, this didn't push me to drinking. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, it would have been the perfect excuse for me to down a bottle of rum or vodka and cry all night about how unfair it all was. Yes, it does seem unfair, but drinking wouldn't have made it any better: it would simply have added disgust at myself to the disappointment in not getting the job.

Another positive thing is that I received my copy of Alcoholics Anonymous during the week. I'd ordered it on line and last night I took it and it opened at a particular page (it was a 2nd-hand copy) which must have been of some significance to its previous owner. I read the first few paragraphs and then went to bed. Today, when I logged on, I went straight to a particular blog that I read every day, and the very passage that I had read was quoted there. I feel as if there are two gentle hands on my shoulders, turning me to face the direction I need to go, and I must have a little faith, and keep facing forward.

And the best thing of all? It has now been 29 days since my last drink, and it feels good. It feels very good.

Grateful

I was going to post yesterday evening before I went to bed and moan about the rotten day I'd had, but before I write my own blog entry I usually read how other people have been getting on, and after I'd looked at some other blogs I realised that the rotten day I'd had was nothing compared to some of the anxieties and very real problems others had encountered.

So instead of complaining I'm going to take a leaf out of some other blogs and remember what I have to be grateful for:

• that my problems are only work-related. I'm looking for another job and hopefully will be out of here soon
• that even here at this awful place I have made some good friends
• that tonight is my volunteer night and I get to help others
• that my family and friends are all safe and in good health
• THAT I HAVEN'T HAD A DRINK SINCE 9pm ON SATURDAY 30 SEPTEMBER
• that I've found this blogging community

I feel better for remembering the good things rather than dwelling on the bad things, although the bad things still need to be dealt with.

I'm wishing you all a happy, sober day!

Still winning!

Just a quick post to say I won again today. I think the bottle is beginning to realise it's losing the fight and it didn't even show up in the ring today. In fact, the only time I thought about drink was when I was in the kitchen and saw my chalk-board, right before I came upstairs to post before going to bed, and I thought, 'Aha! Another day to chalk up!'

I've been lucky, I've had some easy days , and the days that have been harder have been manageable. I know there is help there when I need/want it, and it means a lot to come in here and say I've had a successful day, and read about other bloggers' struggles and triumphs. Because family and friends had no real idea of the extent of my drinking, there's no-one to be proud of what I'm doing, or to encourage me, so I'm learning to be proud of myself, and to find my encouragement within myself - and here.

Thank you, everyone, for your blogs and your comments and your honesty. I'm so glad I've found this on-line community.

Good day

Yesterday was a really bad day so I enlisted help. I emailed a few good friends at work and said I needed to get out and who wanted to come to the pub at lunchtime. As I emailed my message I realised that the attraction of the pub was actually time out with friends - NOT alcohol! And that was a great feeling! So although the two incidents that upset me so much in the morning carried on being upsetting throughout the day, the fact that I could go out with friends and get away for an hour and not even think about having an alcoholic drink actually made me feel a lot better about the awful day I was having. Does that make sense?

And today has been a good day. I've been making my Christmas lists and realise that I've got a lot of presents for people already - I have about 18 bottles of wine in the garage so most of it is going to be given away as gifts to people who don't have a problem with drinking. That reminds me, I must cancel my subscription to the wine club - it's not a good idea to have a case of 12 bottles turning up every two months! But the fact that I have had 18 bottles sitting in the garage for over a month, unopened, is unheard of for someone who could (and often did) drink a bottle a night and sometimes open a 2nd one. Even more of an achievement is having 3 bottles of rum in the garage, unopened. I bought the rum in September, when I was still thinking I'd try and stick to the recommended allowance of 21 units a week. After a couple of weeks of being unable to do that I decided on my 'October detox' month and the bottles have stayed untouched ever since.

I am well aware that there are people who think that if they've managed to give up alcohol for a week or a month, they can't be alcoholics because they've just proved they can live without it. I know that after the week or month is up they may go straight back to drinking excessively again. I know that's a danger, and this is my last chance to prove myself, to myself. I've set my goal now of 100 sober days by the end of the year. After that, I'll allow myself to have a drink or two if I really want it, but if I find that I can't stick to that I will hold up my hands and admit that I really am an alcoholic, and I will wholeheartedly embrace the cure. But I have to find out for sure that I am an alcoholic, and that I really need to never ever touch a drink again to be able to have any sort of control. Those of you who are reading this may very well have been where I am now, telling yourself that you can stay in control, and you may be sure that I won't be able to stick to just one or two drinks occasionally - you may be absolutely right, but I have to be sure. The next few months are going to prove to me whether I control the drink or whether the drink controls me. I am too independent to allow anything to control me, so if I do find out that alcohol is stronger than I am then out it goes forever.

I feel really empowered by making that statement 'out loud'. I enjoy a challenge, and so far this month, it's been me 21, alcohol nil!

A little reminder

... of what happens when girls drink too much …

1. We have absolutely no idea where our purse is.
2. We believe that dancing with our arms overhead and wiggling our butt while yelling "woo-hoo!" is truly the sexiest dance move around.
3. We've suddenly decided that we want to kick someone's ass and honestly believe we could do it too.
4. In our last trip to pee, we realize that we now look more like a homeless hooker than the goddess we were just four hours ago.
5. We start crying and telling everyone that we love them sooooo much.
6. We get extremely excited and jump up and down every time a new song plays because "oh my God! I love this song!"
7. We've found a deeper/spiritual side to the geek sitting next to us.
8. We've suddenly taken up smoking and become really good at it.
9. We yell at the bartender, who we believe cheated us by giving us just lemonade, but that's only because we can no longer taste the gin.
10. We think we are in bed, but our pillow feels strangely like the kitchen floor (or the mop?)
11. We fail to notice that the toilet lid's down when we sit on it.
12. We take our shoes off because we believe it's their fault that we're having problems walking straight.

I've done all except 8, 9, and 10. But I haven't done any of these for at least the last 19 days!

Bad day

By about 10 this morning I'd already said to a colleague that it was a good job they didn't allow us to drink at work because I'd already be on my second glass. It was shaping up to be a bad day. Mind you, every day where I work is a bad day, and some days I cope with it better than others. Today wasn't a good coping day. By 11 o'clock I had looked up AA meetings in my city - although I think I knew that there would not be one that I could fit in between leaving work at 5pm and starting my voluntary work at 6.30pm. That finishes at 8.30. The meetings I found were all at 7.30, so no chance of getting to one. But at least I thought about it!

Anyway, somewhere between actually looking up AA sessions and leaving work I found something inside that reminded me drinking wouldn't make my bad day any better and as I wouldn't be home until 9pm there was no point even thinking about it.

As always, my voluntary work made me feel a hundred times better. What I do there is worthwhile. It makes up for the horrible day job and it makes me realise how lucky I am - not just lucky to have the life I do, but lucky that I can do something to help other people. And so I came home and fed the cat and poured myself a diet coke and now I'm going to have a long hot soak in the bath before chalking up another successful day.

The bad day's turned into a good one. Tomorrow will be better.

Who am I?

I am unashamedly copying this from Jay Osmond's Blog - and he's copied it from somewhere else - and just tweaked it a little bit. Guess who this is?

I am your constant companion.
I am your greatest helper or your heaviest burden.
I will push you onward or drag you down to failure.
I am completely at your command.
Half the things you do, you might as well turn over to me,
And I will be able to do them quickly and correctly.
I can be managed, but you must be firm with me.
Show me exactly how you want something done,
And after a few lessons I will do it automatically.
I am the servant of all great men,
And alas of all the failures as well.
Those who are great, I have made great.
Those who are failures, I have made failures.
I am not a machine, though I work with the precision of a machine,
Plus the intelligence of a human.
You may run me for profit, or run me for ruin,
It makes no difference to me.
Take me, train me, be firm with me,
And I will put the world at your feet.
Be easy with me, and I will destroy you.
Who am I?

I AM HABIT

Habit got me into drinking in the first place. I'm trying to learn new habits and so far - day 17 - it's working.

Sixteen days ...

I've done two stupid things today, but neither of them included drinking alcohol, so I'm not going to beat myself up!

I came home from work absolutely shattered and thought I'd have a little lie down for half an hour ... 2 1/2 hours later I woke up! So, of course, wide awake with no chance of sleeping for ages. No problem, there's a good game on the computer that keeps me amused for hours, so I've been playing that, drinking lots and lots of Pepsi Max. Now that is stupid, because the caffeine in that, combined with my nap earlier, means that I'll be lucky if I manage to get to sleep before I have to get up at 6.45! And as I have difficulty in staying awake at work at the best of times (nothing of any interest to do!) I'll be nodding off over my keyboard tomorrow.

But it could have been worse. In the not-too-distant past if I've sat up late on the computer it's been accompanied by a bottle of bacardi to go with the coke, and it hasn't been a game, it's been chat rooms and boy, can you get into trouble there! Sober, I have absolutely no desire to go into any of the rooms I used to visit, and that's another very good reason for not drinking.

Favourite song

My favourite song of the moment has been played ever since I gave up alcohol for October - I hear it on the radio almost every day either on the way to work, or on the way home, and I always sing along loudly. It's become my not-drinking theme song, and I hope you like it.

REHAB

PS - didn't drink today, either - 15 days in a row! Yippee!

Momentary wobble

I had a moment this afternoon, sipping my diet coke, when I thought how much nicer it would be with some bacardi in it. Only one, just one, and I'd savour it, and then put the cap on the bottle and get on with what I was doing. No-one would know. I wouldn't have to tell anyone.

But I realised that I would know. I'm doing this for me, and that's the difference this time. No-one would be disappointed in me, but I'd have been disappointed in myself, so I left the bottle where it was, stuck to the diet coke, and chalked up another successful day on the board in the kitchen.

Other than the wobble - and it was only for a moment while I had that little conversation in my head - I had a good day. No headache when I woke up, a trip to the shops, the chance to do a good turn for a close friend - and the good news that she's moving house and will be closer to me - and the mental clarity to work on my (writing) competition entry, and watching a movie late in the evening and being clear-headed enough to follow the plot.

Hang on, this is beginning to sound like a grateful list! And maybe it should, because I am grateful, grateful to have started to stop, grateful for all the blogs I read that inspire me, and grateful that I have enough of my life left ahead of me to enjoy.

And grateful that, for the 3rd Saturday in a row, I am going to bed without the world spinning...

Friday lunchtime at the pub

I haven't been to the pub with my colleagues at all since I started stopping (if that makes sense) but I did go today. No difficulty in having just a diet coke - but then again, only 3 of the 8 of us had an alcoholic drink.

I'm not as anxious about the weekend as I was last weekend. Usually weekends are a bit of a blur (I wasn't a huge drinker in the week - I did drink every night, but not always to excess - but weekends were usually spent drinking and taking naps) but I am confident this one won't be the same.

I mentioned a new challenge a couple of days ago. I was counting days until Christmas and I realised that if I combine my sober October with the previous sober days I've had this year, I'll have 47 by the end of the month, which means I can fit in 100 before the end of the year! That would be fantastic! I mean, 100 is 28% of a year! I don't think that, ever since I started drinking seriously (seriously? What, as opposed to playing at it? No, I mean heavily) when I was about 20, I have ever had 100 alcohol-free days in any one year. I know that if I do make 100 this year they won't be continuous days, but it's a nice even number, and that's what I'm going to go for.

I'm keeping my 1-month countdown ticker at the top of my blog, but then I'll start moving towards my 100-day total goal.

Reasons to be cheerful

The tiny veins in my nose are not so red

My tongue looks a healthy pink, and not like the bottom of an incontinent parrot's cage

I haven't felt sick once

The whites of my eyes are white

I've lost 3lb in weight

All this in just 12 days of not drinking! There are other physical changes, too, which, added to the above, tell me I must have been much tighter in the grip of alcohol than I wanted to admit when I started my October challenge. I'm feeling so much more positive now that even though it's not the end of the month yet, even though I haven't succeeded in reaching my target one month, I'm thinking up my next challenge ... but I'm not going to tell you what it is just yet! You'll just have to keep coming back to find out!

Commitment

I've been thinking a lot about commitment. I know it's something I'm so not good at, that I avoid it at all costs. I believe in love and happy-ever-after for other people, but not for me. I believe in God, but I don't want to go to church because I don't want to get 'sucked in'. I want to lose weight and I can diet for a week or so, but I can't commit to changing my eating habits for a lifetime ... And it's the same with alcohol. Right now I want to see how I cope without it, but I don't want to commit to giving it up forever. I don't want not to be able to have a glass of champagne on New Year's Eve ever again. I don't want not to be able to have a drink occasionally when I want one. I know, I know, it's a form of denial - I've proved amply to myself over the past couple of decades that I can't have 'just one' - but I can't commit to never taking another drink ever again.

And that's why, I think, I have decided not to start going to AA meetings. I would feel I was there under false pretenses, surrounded by people who want to stay sober forever. I just want to stay sober for now.

And I'm a little bit disappointed in myself for it.

Monthly challenge

I felt too awful last night to post my progress - which was good, another sober day (although I had to really talk very sternly to myself because I so wanted a drink) and then this morning I realized! Silly me! I know why I've been feeling so down, tired and lethargic over the past few days - it's 'That Time' (perhaps this is over-sharing?) I can't remember the last time I faced my awful PMS without a bottle in my hand, in fact, on day one I usually get a self-destructive urge to drink myself into a stupor, perhaps because of the fear of the gut-wrenching agony that sometimes accompanies my period and causes me to black-out through pain. Anyway, now that I've realised why I've been feeling like this I'm more determined than ever not to give in to the craving to drink all the depression and pain away.

I'm going to try and put my thoughts in order about why I'm not going to meetings. I know why, but I want to be able to talk it out coherently here, so I'll post about that tomorrow ...

Thanks for all the encouragement everyone - I do appreciate it!

Progress report

Another day chalked up, another day closer to my goal: my first alcohol-free month in years.

I thought I'd be feeling better than I do by now. I am permanently tired - except after I've been in bed for about an hour, and then I'm wide awake. I still wake up with a bit of a headache in the mornings. I guess the alcohol must have taken more of a toll on me than I realised!

Seven days

A whole week. I've done a whole week. I'm pleased I've done it, I'm determined to carry on. Today - a whole day on my own, no distractions, no purpose and no drink. I've already said what my usual weekends are like. So far this one has been different. It's been a bit dull, it's felt as if there's been something missing, but it hasn't been as hard as I thought it would. The hardest part was watching a movie in the afternoon and seeing someone drinking a glass of sherry before dinner. The memory of the taste of sherry (not something I particularly like) was so strong it was almost as if I had a mouthful myself, and I found myself wishing that I had a glass to sip, and that I could have a glass of wine with my meal. But I didn't.

So tomorrow is the start of another week. If I can do it for one week, I can do it for 2, and if I can do it for a fortnight, I can do it for a month.

What happens when October is up remains to be seen ...

Different approaches

I was told recently of the approach a women's group (not specifically an alcohol-related group) has been using towards alcohol. A wine glass and a beer glass are put in front of the group members and introduced as Mr and Mrs Alcohol. Each person is invited to tell Mr and Mrs Alcohol how they feel about them, and then they take the place of the glasses and say how they, Mr and Mrs A, feel about what they've just heard.

It's a variation on the two-chair work that counsellors and psychotherapists sometimes use, and it made me think about some of my own relationships in the past. If I've felt that someone is trying to back off from me, I've held on even tighter. One of my friends is extremely needy, and I am trying to back off from her because she is draining me, but it's having the reverse effect. She calls me every night now - she's holding on tighter, as if she can sense me slipping away.

I'm beginning to think that that's the relationship I have with alcohol. When it feels me turning my back it puts more temptation in my way to entice me back into its warm and familiar embrace. If I tell myself I'll have just one, as soon as I've started to drink it, subversive thoughts creep into my brain: You see, I feel fine, one doesn't hurt. I can have another one. I've got ... oh ... another 10 hours before I have to get up for work tomorrow. I can have another couple before I go to bed and still get a good night's sleep, and it will all be out of my system by the time I get up.

Of course, one leads to 2, 2 leads to 4, and 4 leads to 8 and so much for a good night's sleep: I wake up on the hour, every hour, with a headache and a raging thirst for the bottle of water I keep by the bed. I look at the clock and think, Shit! I've only got X hours before I have to get up!

So, I have a message for Mr and Mrs Alcohol. I love you very much. You've been part of my life since I was 14, but I just can't see you now. Maybe we can get together in the future, but right now I just can't be near you, for my own sake.

I'm not even going to ask Mr & Mrs A how they feel about being dumped, because I know they'll make excuses and promise to be better, less demanding, if only I'll take them back, and I just can't afford to listen to them any more.

Looky looky!

I've been looking around at various web-sites and blogs and found some cool things - one of which is the count-down ticker I've put at the top of this blog. It will remind me every time I log on that I am moving slowly towards my first goal, even if it is at a snail's pace.

For the first time in a month I have a free weekend. Well, I mean I have stuff to do - housework, financial paperwork - but I'm not going anywhere. I'm so looking forward to having the whole weekend to myself, but all that time is also a bit dangerous. A typical weekend to myself is pottering around in the morning on Saturday, having an aperitif before lunch ... and then usually lunch is non-existant and the afternoon is spent snoozing before waking up again in time for a drink before dinner.

This weekend I've made sure I have lots of nice coffee, flavoured waters, fruit juice, DVDs to watch and books to read, just to keep myself occupied and my mind off the bottle of rum locked away in the garage. It's going to be a challenge, but I'll log on and read all the blogs that I've been enjoying these past few weeks, I'll look at my little snail inching along towards the end of the caterpiller and I'll count the lines on my chalk-board and hopefully I'll be posting positive messages at the end of each day.

I beat the bottle again today!

I'm just on my way downstairs to watch a programme on TV before I go to bed but wanted to log in and blog for the 2nd time today, because I won't have time to blog first thing in the morning, which is when I usually post how I've got on the previous day.

I'm going to put another chalk line on the board in the kitchen tonight, because today is another sober day. Yippee!

Last year there was another section on the chalk board: days lost through alcohol. There were quite a few of those last year. This year there have been fewer - in fact, only a couple - and next year I'm not going to need that section at all, because I won't be losing any more days. Life's too precious to waste.

New picture

My original picture of two bottles of Bacardi was, in hindsight, not the greatest of choices for someone who's fighting drink. So I've chosen something altogether more serene and peaceful:

I'm feeling a bit more peaceful myself today. I've now had 4 days and 16 hours without alcohol, which is the longest stretch for me so far this year. Last year I managed 17 days in January but it all fell apart after that.

I had an email from a friend this morning to say that she is cutting out drinking for the first 3 weeks of October (until her birthday). We're meeting up later this afternoon and I'm going to suggest that she takes a look at some of the blogs that I've been reading: I've found a lot of encouragement there, and I hope she will too.

Honesty

I've never been honest about the level of my drinking but I thought I'd give it a try last night. I went out to dinner with a friend and, while we were deciding on what to eat, she went to the bar to get us a drink. I said I'd have a diet coke and she asked if I was feeling all right. I just said that I'd been drinking too much recently and was giving myself a break. There, just like that. She just said, 'Do you want ice in it?' and didn't query or comment at all.

Usually if I come home after a sober evening out (if I've been driving, for instance) I take a big glass of rum and coke up to bed and drink it while I'm reading. Last night I came home and just went to bed.

Another sober day chalked up. I'd love to see my chalkboard in the kitchen absolutely full of those little green lines by Christmas. I'd love not to even need a chalkboard in 2007. It's certainly something to aim for!

Day 2

Day 2 over with no alcohol. I had some good news/bad news yesterday - depending on which way you look at it. I have a friend who works for a subsidiary of the Bacardi-Martini group, and she's my source of cheap Bacardi. Every month she's allowed to purchase up to £80 a month of their products at near-cost price but as she doesn't drink, she passes her allowance on to me and I usually spend about £60 of it on Bacardi. Last month I really cut down on my order (because I was broke and I had already decided not to drink so much) so there is less to tempt me in the house. Yesterday she emailed me to say that their company has been bought out by another drinks firm so there will be no more Bacardi on the staff list! Eeek! I must admit I had a moment of panic, but then thought, well, if I'm not going to be drinking the stuff anyway, what does it matter?

Kept myself busy at home last night and didn't even think about drinking. I've now chalked another day up on the 'Alcohol Free Days' board in the kitchen. It's 18 now - not 18 in a row, 18 since Christmas. That's pretty terrible, really, but it's a start.

Pat on the back ...

Yesterday was 1 October, the start of my alcohol-free month. I suppose it helped that I was so tired from the gig I went to on Saturday night I spent most of the day asleep ... but in the afternoon I had an hour's on-line chat with fans who weren't at the gig and wanted to know how it went, and in evening I had 3 hours in front of the television (which is almost unheard of these days) and that was when I fancied a drink. The character in the drama I was watching was one of these hard-drinking maverick types and watching him pour a large glass of whisky made me think rather wistfully of the bottle of Bacardi I had in the cupboard. But I reminded myself why I was giving up, I reminded myself that I'd made a promise - just to myself, no-one else - and the bottle stayed where it was and I stuck to soft drinks.

When I got home from the gig and finally got to bed I had a bit of a nightmare. I dreamed that I was in the kitchen and there was a half-finished glass of wine on the counter and I automatically picked it up and drank it, and then I thought (in my dream), 'Damn! I wasn't going to drink this month! Oh well, I've failed.' And in my dream I poured another glass of wine. During the day yesterday I felt really disappointed in myself for having taken a drink and then remembered that it had only been a dream and actually I hadn't had a drink at all! So although today is only 1.30pm on day 2, I'm feeling pretty good .... despite finding something unspeakable in my pizza in the office canteen ... I don't feel like putting anything into my mouth in this place ever again so what with the calories I'm going to save on alcohol and no longer eating in the canteen maybe I'll regain some of the shape I've lost ...

On the whole, a lot to look forward to!

The journey of a thousand miles ...

... begins with a single step.

I've flirted with giving up alcohol for a long time. I've been telling myself to try and cut down ... It's a bit like going out with someone you love, someone you are besotted with and lust after, and saying that you're only going to kiss. With the best will in the world, it ain't gonna happen.

Sometimes I can have just one. Yesterday I went out for a drink with a friend and I had just one. And then I came home and I had just one. And then just one more. I told myself that three was good - for me, it's half what I normally have ...

My work life is in complete disarray at the moment. I've been terrified that there was some plot at work to get me out (I told myself it was paranoia and that drinking to stop worrying about it wouldn't make it go away) but other people agreed that it seemed that way, and backed me up and were in my corner and encouraged me to talk it through with my boss ... the boss who has reduced me to tears for over a year and made me feel like a totally useless individual instead of a highly qualified and experienced woman with 25 years experience ...

So, fuelled by the support of 2 other managers I saw my boss ... and boy, did it feel good! I have him on the run. He can be severely and I mean severely disciplined for all the things he's said to me. I don't want to punish him, I just want all the unpleasantness and trauma at work for me to stop. And now he knows that I won't put up with it any longer. I feel stronger now. It might not last, but today I feel strong.

In fact, I feel so strong that I am going to give up alcohol from 1 October. Just like that. I'm not saying I'm giving it up forever. I'm giving it up for October. The whole of October. Even if I have dinner out with friends (I have 2 in the diary already) and even if my wine club has just delivered 12 bottles of wine and even if I have 5 bottles of rum in the garage.

Tomorrow is 30 September. I can't drink tomorrow because I have a long drive to a gig and a long drive back and I don't take risks behind the wheel. Hey, tonight is my last night drinking for at least 32 days! How do I feel? Scared? No ... actually, I feel relieved.

I'm not saying that I'm going to succeed and beat all my demons in one fell swoop. I'm saying that, for October, I AM NOT GOING TO DRINK ALCOHOL.

There. I've said it. I'm going to do it.

The weekend is over ...

... and tomorrow I have work (yuk!)

But I won't think about that. Instead, I'll think about the concert on Friday night, and the evening I spent with my friend - sober. It was a good evening, my friend's always good company, and I have always enjoyed this particular band. There was something missing, though, and I don't know if I'm right in what I'm thinking: that I didn't enjoy it as much as other times because I was sober and in control and therefore didn't throw myself into it and dance and let myself go. I don't mean let myself go in a drunken way and fall all over the dance floor, I mean just a couple of drinks would have loosened me up sufficiently to let go and dance. As it was, I sang along, shuffled my feet and I smiled and told my friend I'd had a good time, but actually I felt like an outsider and, looking back, it saddens me to think that if I can't control my drinking and have to give it up for good, I won't ever feel that pleasant buzz that allows me to let go a little bit.

But at least on Saturday I was up and dressed and headache free at a reasonable hour. Jay (from the weekend before's concert/chat marathon) came over for half an hour and talked solidly, even though I'd told her I couldn't hang around because I was going to a friend's for her birthday. I did manage to get away in time and it was great to see BA again - haven't seen her for a couple of weeks - and as soon as I arrived she gestured me into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine (she was deep in conversation with a neighbour) so I went to the fridge and decided to help myself to some apple juice instead. When BA saw that, she didn't press me to have a 'proper' drink. I did have a glass of wine with my lunch out, but just the one, and then I went onto diet coke. I felt good about that, but some of the sadness is still in me - sad that I wasn't able to drown my sorrows and laugh and enjoy the moment. I suppose what I'm saying is that I drink to blot out my sadness to allow me to enjoy the nice things that are going on around me - the lack of alcohol means there's nothing to keep the depression that is a part of my make-up at bay. I mean, the Prozac should be doing that, but I've cut down the dose over the last year and it's no longer having the desired effect. Maybe I'm trying to do too much, too soon. Maybe I'm feeling low because I have to go to work tomorrow and I hate it so much, and dislike the 2 people I have to share an office with. Maybe I am just so tired of everything being such a struggle - nothing is easy in my life, and nothing is really worth the struggle I have to put into each day just to come out of it intact.

I'm going to relax in front of the new adaptation of Jane Eyre that is starting in 5 minutes on telly and try to forget just how bloody miserable I am.

This isn't how I intended this blog to be today, I intended to give myself a pat on the back for controlling my binge-drinking this weekend, but I don't feel good. I should feel good and proud about it, but I don't.

Girls' night out

I'm going to another concert tonight. I spoke to the friend I'm going with (NOT the same one as last week's concert - that would just be too much, my ears are still ringing from her 31-hour chat marathon!) on the phone and she said her husband would drop us off and collect us so that we could both have a drink. That was a very kind offer, but I said no. I said I would do the driving because I wasn't going to be drinking anyway. My friend tried to insist (she's worried about her own drinking, I know) but I was even more insistent, so I shall be driving and, as I don't take risks behind the wheel, I shall definitely not be drinking.

It is something of a relief to have made that decision early on in the day. It means I don't have to bother with thinking about things like, 'Shall I have a drink with lunch?' If I'd accepted the offer of a lift there and back from my friend's husband I'd probably have had a drink with lunch and several more in the afternoon (I've got the day off from work today) so by making the choice I did early on, I have effectively given myself a free day - free from getting tipsy and sleepy and wasting away my precious day off work.

Tomorrow is going to be difficult - a very very boozy friend's birthday - but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Today I shall just enjoy today.

Realisation is slowly dawning ...

I've spent 4 hours writing a post ... and I've just reviewed it and realised it is nothing more than self-pitying drunken rambling so I've deleted it. I have good, anonymous, friends who read these posts and reply to me privately, and I have amazingly courageous people who are not afraid to show themselves by posting ... I admire you

I am still scared, I am still holding off from that final admission ... I just can't stand up right now and say, 'My name is ***** and I'm an alcoholic. But, deep in my heart, I know I am.

A fantastic alcohol-free day!

I went to a rock concert on Friday. It was a long drive with a friend who drives me to distraction with her inane chatter. People don't believe me when I talk about this particular friend - she talks from the moment she arrives at my house, throughout the journey, and right up until the gig/play/movie starts, and then she goes silent ... until the interval ... then falls silent again for the 2nd half ... until the gig is over/the curtain comes down/the lights go up. But, because she has no other friends with the same musical/theatrical tastes as her (and because my friends with the same tastes have less holiday/more family commitments) I often end up having no alternative but to arrange things for her and me. This sounds really, really harsh but, see above: she has no other friends. I know why.

I had everything packed: sandwiches to leave in the car for when we got out (you can't take food in) and a flask of coffee (we'd need to warm up by the time we got out) and several small plastic bottles of water (you can only take plastic, sealed, bottles of up to 500ml in). I knew I could sneak in some rum and coke, mixed in a coke bottle, but I decided not to - with the thought in the back of my mind that I could always buy something when I got there if I had to. Listen to me - if I had to. I had a special picnic rug with a plastic back so even if the ground was wet, it wouldn't soak through. I ended carrying it all because Jay doesn't even think of offering to help. I feel like a bloody pack-horse most of the time!

All this background detail, as if I'm trying to make an excuse for needing a drink by the time we got there ... after my Chinese-water-torture-style 4-hour road-trip with Jay.

Outside the venue you can buy tokens that you can exchange for drinks inside - it's a good system, it means no money changes hands inside the venue, and you have to make a decision how much you are going to drink before you get in and get carried away. When I saw that you had to pay £3 for one drink I said no way! One drink would make me want at least another 5 and there was no way I wanted to/could afford to spend £18 on the equivalent of a few shots of rum.

And the concert was fantastic! I could sing along without slurring my words. I didn't need to suddenly rush out to use the ladies' loo. I could stand up on the steep slope without feeling giddy or falling over - unlike the woman behind me, who had been drinking beer all night, who fell into me 3 times without even an apology (she was too drunk to speak properly) and who probably didn't enjoy the concert because she was too far gone.

This isn't a concert review, so I won't go into detail, but when he sang some of his most poignant songs - which make me sob when I'm alone at home with the CD and the bottle - I could sing along with great joy and not get maudlin.

It took a long time to get back to our hotel after the gig - 65,000 people leaving all at the same time, more than 2 hours to get 9 miles - but, because I hadn't had a drink for over a whole day, I was fine after only 5 hours' sleep - no headache, no nausea. I got up and had a huge fried breakfast and enjoyed every mouthful. Instead of dying to get home for a longer sleep and a drink I suggested to Jay that we go to a designer outlet village on the way home, and we had a great few hours, looking at things we could only dream of buying, at prices we could perhaps afford.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip - and if I'd been drinking, I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it to the full extent that I did.

I've had a glass of wine since I came back yesterday. Not because I needed to, but because the open bottle was in the fridge and I fancied one. I'm looking back on the past couple of days and thinking how much more I enjoyed them, having made the decision to stay sober. The past couple of days has helped me think that sobriety - total sobriety - is nothing to be afraid of. I'm still not ready to go there yet, but it doesn't scare me quite as much now.

I know the coming week is going to be a challenge: work is going so badly at the moment that it takes all my resolve not to tell the Powers That Be to f**k off, and walk out. Sadly, there is only me to pay the mortgage and the bills, so I can't do that, but I have to do something. I have formulated a plan with one of the managers, but it's scarey, very scarey ... But I need to have a clear head, so before I go to bed tonight, I will decide whether I am going to commit to an alcohol-free working week. I think I want to.

Help in unexpected places

One of my problems is admitting to others that I am not perfectly strong and capable. Yesterday I did. At the end of my tether, I emailed a friend who never listens, who never asks how I am, who's idea of support is, 'Well, if it's any consolation, I've had a rotten day, too.' She may as well say, 'Shut up, we all have problems.'

Anyway, not expecting anything supportive in return but, needing to get it out of my system, I emailed this friend. What I got in return was a kind, thoughtful and supportive reply, and an offer to help me financially if I felt I really couldn't stand the job and needed to walk away.

Just knowing that someone - someone quite unexpected - cares enough to make that offer of support, and mean it, makes me feel less alone, less helpless and, although I did have a couple of drinks after my horrible day at work, I didn't need to drink myself into oblivion.

Help is there, sometimes you don't even have to ask, you just need to be honest enough to allow people see you need it ...

Always reliable

Drink is always reliable. It doesn't care if you're good or bad, it treats you the same every time. It's that reliability that makes it dangerous. When life lets you down, the bottle is always there. It can't solve your problems, but it can help you forget, or at least ignore, them for a while.

I have had a pig of a day. It appears that I must take shovel loads of shit heaped upon me and not retaliate. When I do show any personality at all I get a metaphorical slap. Today I reached the end of my tether and actually told one of my managers that I was looking for another job because I was so fed up of being treated like a school leaver with no experience. Actually, I don't know of any school leavers with no experience who are treated like that, nor any who would put up with being treated the way I am. But in my job, I have to put up and shut up. The manager was not really interested, and certainly didn't accept any responsibility for her part in it.

A friend took me out for a drink at lunch-time. I'd managed to stop crying by then. I spent all afternoon sorting out personal things, ignoring what little work they see fit to trust me with (which doesn't have to be done for 10 days) but I'm home now. Just me and a bottle that I'm trying hard to ignore. A bottle that will help me ignore, for a little while, what a shit job I have, and what shit people I work with.

I'm not even counting units tonight, just trying to bear in mind that I still have to go to work tomorrow ...

A glimpse of the future

I've just 'phoned my sister in law to find out what time we're meeting tonight to go to my niece's play. She said, 'We're picking up Uncle Tony and Aunty Wendy and we'll get there for 7.15.'

Now, if I'd known Aunty Wendy was going I might not have been so keen to go to the play and my first thought was, 'Shit, I need a drink to get through an evening with her,' but even as I thought those words, I challenged myself. Why did I need a drink to get through an evening with this particular Aunt - not a blood relative, merely married to my Dad's poor unfortunate hen-pecked brother.

The obvious reasons are that she is a mean-spirited, thoroughly nasty, opinionated, bitchy and lazy individual who has never done a day's work in her life and yet somehow cons my poor Uncle Tony into thinking that she is so busy all day.

But, being brutally honest, the reason I dislike her so much is fear: fear that I might turn into her. It's the great open secret in the family that Aunty Wendy is an alcoholic. It's an unspoken rule that no-one phones her before 10 in the morning because she has such trouble getting out of bed in the morning. No-one 'phones her between 3 - 5 in the afternoon because she's having a nap - due to the aperitifs and the lunchtime drinks. No-one 'phones her after 8pm because she's too far gone after pre-dinner, during dinner and after dinner drinks.

She's often been 'too unwell' to join family members at Christmas. She frequently cancels evening invitations at the last minute because she hasn't recovered sufficiently from the afternoon's drinking. Even now I wonder if she will be compos mentis enough to attend the play this evening. Everyone shakes their heads and shrugs and accepts the real reason for her frequent absences from family events is drink, whatever excuse she gives. The really sad thing is that no-one cares about her enough to help her, except my Uncle, and he's too scared of her to even mention that her drinking is out of hand.

I don't want to take her place and be the Aunt everyone shakes their heads about and shrugs over. I'm too aware of the dangers that lie ahead to ignore the signs. I know that cutting down to sensible levels may not be the solution for me but I have to try. If I can't cut down I will admit that I'm unable to control it, and I'll walk away from it completely.

Whatever happens, I will not become my generation's Aunty Wendy.