Blog

“I was an extremist. I was either drunk or sober – I had no off switch”

I don’t usually share articles etc (lately I’m usually too busy eating to read!! 🐷) on here, but today I’m giving it a go. I promise it isn’t total shit (although I guess that’s subjective) – I really wouldn’t bother if it was. 

I just saw this on the This Naked Mind Facebook page, and parts of it really resonated with me:

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/m.huffingtonpost.com.au/amp/jacintha-akkerman/why-quitting-alcohol-is-the-best-thing-i-ve-ever-done_a_23071398/
(Looks like the link isn’t working 100% – great! If you google “why quitting alcohol is the best thing I’ve ever done” it’ll come up. What a ball ache! I think I’ll stick to not sharing articles in future 😉)

I have no off switch, and I’ve never had a desire to have one. I will tell anyone who will listen, over and over again, that there is zero point in one drink of alcohol. I guess the idea of being “able” to have a glass every now and then is some people’s idea of moderation, and that’s totally understandable. For them. 

For me, moderation would consist of drinking 2 or 3 nights a week, and cramming my usual weekly amount of units into those 2 or 3 nights. Once a drop of alcohol passes my lips I immediately adopt a “fuck it” approach and proceed to drink to the extreme. This is why I’m so careful when abstaining – I won’t touch any food with booze in it, and I’m even weird about mouthwash……. I probably sound like I should be in an asylum, but this is genuinely how “all or nothing” I am. This “extreme” nature must be a sign of some sort of personality trait/disorder – I’m sure of it! 

Day 13 of no booze ✅

Day 13 of at least one ice cream a day 🤢 

Day 12 – Saved by the Skank Shelf

Today I had a massive “craving” at around 5 p.m.  We were driving home from a busy day doing nice things for other people, and I felt like I deserved a reward.  My partner then said “I might have a bottle of wine tonight”, which was obviously totally fine, and we were going to the shop anyway and so we got her some vino.  I briefly thought “I’ll get myself 3 bottles” (seriously), and then dismissed the idea as I couldn’t bear the thought of guzzling a load of wine.  We were in and out of the shop and I barely glanced at the booze aisle.

As we were driving away though, I started thinking about the “reward” of having a few shorts, and how “great” it would be to relax and sink a few Red Stag and cokes (cherry flavoured bourbon – yes, I’m being serious).  I had started thinking about booze at around lunchtime today if I’m honest. This thought stayed lurking pretty quietly in the back of my mind, and I knew we had none at home and wouldn’t be going to another shop.   I tried to play it forward and all that jazz, and yet all I could imagine was the “lovely feeling” (FFS) that a few spirits would bring as I enjoyed my Saturday night, having damn well earned it after befriending old folks all day.  I then realised, to my horror, that I had forgotten something pretty vital from the shop and so we had to stop again.  Enter danger zone – I was going into a shop on my own, mid-craving, heading home on a Saturday evening with no reason to drive early tomorrow.  I knew I’d at least peruse the booze aisle.  But I decided to get my vital bits first.

Enter the skank shelf.  For those of you in the UK you will fully appreciate the concept of the Reduced Items shelf that rears its beautiful head at around tea time, slashing the cost of everything by about 75%,  We call it the skank shelf, and we love it.  The problem is,  I end up buying all sorts of complete crap that we would never ordinarily eat, and I always end up giving it away.  There is just something about a packet of dough balls for ONE PENCE, that entices me to buy them, even if I transport them between houses over the Christmas period and end up throwing them away anyway (true story).

Anyway, I digress.  I accidentally (yeah right) ambled past the skank shelf this evening, to see organic chunky houmous on offer for 10p a tub.  Yep, 10p.  I picked up all ten of the buggers.  There was also some café latte flavoured fresh milk (wtaf?) for 10p a bottle.  I heaved as many of them as I could into my tiny basket, and then struggled all the way to the checkout, in a hurry so as to avoid dropping everything and so that I could proudly “show off my skank” when I got back to the car.

It wasn’t until I got home that I realised I hadn’t given the booze aisle a second thought.  Now I’m firmly ensconced, full of curry (again 🐷) and ready to watch the Darts World Championship (and, as my partner so eloquently puts it, “scratch my balls” whilst watching it – she obviously perceives me to be somewhat masculine when I’m cheering on Phil the Power Taylor with my cup of tea).

On a separate note, I was followed for miles by a police car today.  Well, not followed, they were just behind me (in my booze focussed brain, they are ALWAYS following me, having been tipped off about my heavy drinking by a random – paranoid much?!), but my heart didn’t even race one little bit.  I almost shouted out of the window “breathalyse me pleeeeeaaaaassssseeee Occifer”.  I actually seriously considered flipping them the bird so they’d pull me over, then realised that I’m 35 and not 15 so should probably act more appropriately.

What is it about the “promise” of a good evening that the thought of booze brings?  Why do I think it’ll be anything other than one hour of a bit of a buzz, followed by the inevitable shit storm that drinking brings?  Someone wrote the following on my blog recently:

“If you do what you always did, you get what you always got”.

How true.  Well tonight I didn’t do what I always did, and now I have got houmous and milk.  Lots of it.  Thanks skank shelf – I potentially owe you my Day 12 😆

 

Day 11 – stuffing my face helps

As you’ll be able to tell by the title of this post, it isn’t going to be particularly inspiring. It’s a Friday evening and I’m firmly beached on the sofa after a bit of a hectic week. Ordinarily by now I’d be a couple of bottles of wine in and starting to sniff around the spirits. I would also ordinarily have an empty ish tummy, having opted for Wine and Crisps for my evening meal. 

That’s one of the things about boozing that befuddles me – people saying they “like a glass” with their meal. What’s the bloody point? Surely the point of drinking something intoxicating is to get intoxicated. One drink with a meal? Nah thanks. Skip the meal and get the booze straight into the blood stream? Yep, that’ll do nicely. I guess having that attitude as a clubbing teenager was understandable, if not acceptable. Having it as a 35 year old is simply neither. 

So that leads me into my latest craving – stopping tactic. Eat like a pig 🐷, always maintaining a bordering on uncomfortable level of satiety, and there you have it. I’m so full up, that even I couldn’t shove a load of booze in. And if I can’t demolish at least a couple bottles of something there’s no point anyway. If I start foraging around “wine o clock” (anytime between 3pm and 8pm for me), I can almost guarantee that I’ll forget about booze. 

The obvious problem with this is that I’m already super lethally morbidly chronically, pick your adjective, obese. And so, eating like a starved wildebeest is not to be recommended. But it’s only day 11, and I guess that as long as I don’t drink, a couple of ice cream cones a night won’t kill me. Yet, anyway. 

On a separate note, I have this week experienced how vital it is not to have booze in the house. Had a beyond stressful evening a couple nights ago – I was absolutely furious, raging, upset, you name it. I absolutely KNOW that had there been a bottle of ANYTHING ALCOHOLIC anywhere near me I would literally have chewed through the glass to get to it. We didn’t have any though, and I didn’t even think about walking/driving to the shop less than a mile away. I just had a couple of fags (first in a week), calmed down, got over myself and then had a bowl of curry at 11p.m. Oink.  

It’s time for a shopping trip. But not to Bargain Booze. Nope, I need to go buy some clothing with elasticated waist bands. Or maternity clothes. And I’m not pregnant. God.

But it’s better than over 150 units of alcohol a week hey. 

Day 11 ✅

🐷🐷

Day 4: Fanta and Vitamins on a Friday night 😜

I thought I’d better wait until I had a “few days” under my belt before posting. I decided on August 1st that I’d do my own little August Dryathlon.  I’ve not made a big deal of it, just kind of quietly stopped getting half comatose of an evening. 

This time last week I was in the middle of a Game of Thrones marathon, and a wine and vodka marathon. There always seems something exciting about “let’s have some booze and watch GoT tonight”. The promise of a “fun time” is usually the thing that gets me back on the sauce. I have to be careful of that this time. Trying to REALLY believe that I am missing out on absolutely nothing is a real brain changer for me. 

Fast forward a week and tonight I am mainly drinking Fanta, taking vitamins and eating ice cream. Not quite the “party GoT girl” from last week (I had to watch most of the episodes again, surprise surprise), but hey – I won’t feel awful in the morning. I also (and this is a major thing for me) won’t have a cardiac arrest every time I see a cop car when I’m driving tomorrow. I spend so much time when I’m drinking agonising over how many units I had, what time I stopped drinking, am I over the limit etc etc, that driving at any time of the afternoon or evening is so stressful that I shouldn’t be driving anyway – irrespective of whether I’m over the limit, the extreme anxiety renders me nearly incapable of driving anyway. 

It’s weird – once I stop, I can honestly say that I don’t miss it. But it’s only day 4, and I know myself well enough to know that by this time tomorrow I may very well be stark craving mad…….

On a separate note, in 4 days, I have felt anxious enough to warrant an anti anxiety medication once. ONCE! Hopefully I’ll be answering my own “alcohol/anxiety link?” question soon. 

Day 4 ✅

Today’s attitude toward alcohol 🖕

Day 1 or not? In desperate need of inspiration, and a smack in the face.

I’ve woken up furious today.  I don’t really know why.  I’m not that hungover, but maybe a bit, and I’m feeling intolerant, anxious and downright pissed off.  I could punch a bottle of wine in the face this morning.  Normal hey!

I did a few days “off the sauce” this week and to be honest, felt much calmer.  I struggle with terrible anxiety, and feel like I really need to make the link between that feeling and alcohol.  If somebody could tell me “BOOZE CAUSES YOUR ANXIETY”, I would not hesitate to stop it immediately.  However, I have yet to find anybody who can give me some proper concrete advice about boozing and anxiety.  I don’t know why I need a reason to stop throwing poison down my throat.  It’s bloody obvious to me why I should stop.

I do know that when not drinking, I rarely need anti-anxiety medication.  HELLO!! There must be a link.  Right?

Anyway, to count or not to count?  Do I call this Day One, or will I want to drink later, blah blah blah.   I no longer even like the effect of booze.  I’m angry when I drink it, and yet continue to do so.  What the hell is wrong with me! I even had a gin and cherryade last night.  Am I 15 years old?  I HATE gin, and had to have cherryade to mask it.  AND, it did NOTHING for me – no “buzz”, no nothing.

Grrrrr….sorry about the rant, but I need to be able to read back and remember just how pissed off I am this morning.

I’m now going to go and visit one of the most beautiful places in the South West – St Michael’s Mount.  Maybe a day with “nature” will inspire me not to buy 2 bottles of Rose on the way home.

The booze never changes.  I really need to remember that.

Happy Sunday everyone – Ill be more positive in my next post, promise! : )

 

Looking forward to Day 1…..

I both hate and love this “transition period”. I’m genuinely looking forward to telling the booze to F.O after my birthday this weekend. But I’m also trying to “relish” my last few days of drinking.

I currently feel bloated, sick, anxious and I have a headache. But I won’t let any of that stop me from imbibing the one thing that is causing all of these feelings. Oh no, as I am currently “allowed” to booze I will do exactly that. Pathetic. I know that an obvious question would be “why not stop NOW”. My answer? Because I’m simply so ridiculous that I can’t imagine having a sober birthday, so why bother until afterwards. 

Ironically, I don’t even feel remotely “buzzed”. I am exhausted, and I don’t even want any booze. But the minute I have one sip, I think “we’ll I’ve drank today so why not carry on”.  I am literally retarded. 

I am 35 years old in 2 days time. When on earth am I going to get a grip? The booze never changes, and the effect it has lessens as my consumption increases. This is dangerous territory. I don’t want to wake up yellow and with a bloated abdomen. I think about this “worst case scenario” almost daily and yet still I drink. 

I want things to be different. I know that I need to do something different.  

The next time I blog, I really hope I’ll be AF. If I’m not, I’ll try and blog anyway.  AARRRRGGGGHHHHH!

Perimenopause, Gin and HELL

So, after my “big speech” about saving for a camper van, I lasted 12 days and then got some great financial news.  In my weird, “I love alcohol” head, I thought that I could have one celebratory evening of boozing (after all, I don’t need to save for the camper van anymore etc blah blah blah) and return to my quest of being AF until my birthday.

I’m sure I don’t need to say anything further in that respect.

The title of my blog is as it is today, because I’ve started to realise a mahooosive trigger for my drinking (I don’t mean a glass – I mean reactionary DOWNING glasses).  My partner is going through what we think is perimenopause.  I won’t go into it too much (I have started another blog about it – perimentalpause.wordpress.com – it’s pretty rubbish so far but I really need to find out if there is ANYBODY out there who understands), but suffice to say, I am starting to drink (heavily) whenever I detect a remote chance of a “hormonal day” as I call them.  It is total shit, and I know it’s my alcohol soaked brain finding ANY reason to drink.

Please don’t get me wrong – it is not my partner’s PM that is causing me to drink – I’m more than capable of doing that on my own, with or without reason (excuse).  It is not her doing, and I lay no blame on her at all.  I love her, and want her to feel better, physically and emotionally.  I’m not a total twat – I just recognise when I drink more these days.  I just find it astonishing that this booze stuff (poison) is something I perceive to be helpful in coping with stress/celebration/relaxation.  How is it possible that it does all of those things?  It just isn’t, and I know it.

I should try to be abstinent for myself.  I really know that.  But sometimes external reasons are enough, even to get me off the booze for an initial period (hence why I did all of those money raising Dryathlons).  My partner drinks more when I drink, and with the mixture of the hormones and the vitamins she’s taking to try and stave off this hideous part of her life, I know I can help her better when I’m sober.   Fundamentally, I’m calmer when I’m not drinking (I’d forgotten how even more hideous the anxiety is when I’m drinking).  I’m also much more tolerant, and that helps greatly when you live with somebody with fluctuating moods.  I don’t want to be a mean intolerant bitch.  I’m going to marry this woman and have children with her – how can I possibly think about IUI/IVF when I’m half cut most of the time…….

The Gin part of the title today is because I’ve started to occasionally drink exactly that.  I HATE GIN.  And yet, I found myself in a situation recently in which Gin was the only alcohol around.  So I did what any normal person would do.  I just didn’t drink, right?  Wrong – I drank the Gin, masking it with a shit load of orangeade.  I love the Inbetweeners, but I am not a teenage boy (anyone who has watched it will know that Neil loves to mix orangeade with any alcohol).  I do not like Gin, and yet I have now drank it on a number of occasions because it was the only booze around.

I know this is dangerous progression.  I KNOW it, and yet I’m now back in the full grip of this poisonous shit, that makes me believe I can’t do anything efficiently unless I’ve had a drink.  I have done periods off booze with such little difficulty before – I am furious with myself for drinking again.  I don’t know what to do.  It’s my birthday next weekend (which was supposed to be my big 84th day – yeah right), and I know I will drink then, so I may as well try and commit myself to something starting the day afterwards.  I thought about “I’ll do my 35th year dry”, and then panicked, as I’m so completely retarded that the thought of 12 whole months of booze fills me with dread.  Then I thought about trying another 100 days.  I dunno.  All I do know is that I don’t want to have to reach under a box of wine in my boot in order to reach my work notepad.  I think that’s a fair enough request?!

Sorry for the rant.  It may be that I need to commit to blog everyday, rather than post these “big ideas” and then disappear into the ether (nol) again.

I just want to not want to drink.  Ever.

I also need to quit those stinking fags – which I only ever smoke when I’ve been drinking……hhhhmmmmmm?!?!