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 ...