Blog

White knuckling it through Friday tea time

FUCK OFF ALCOHOL.

Tea time. Not been shop yet. Been having a mental battle with myself since 10.30 a.m. Yep – 10:30 IN THE MORNING. Not that I wanted to drink then (“oh no, I’m not THAT bad”, ha ha). I’ve just had this “something to look forward to later”, “we’ll have a laugh, watch a film, get a bit pissed”, “have a lie in tomorrow”, etc etc. I literally debated with myself all bloody day. It would literally have been so much easier just to go to the shop and get some booze. FFS.

Fast forward to 6pm and I had my first check of Reddit for the day, and found the following quote:

“I drank for happiness and became unhappy. I drank for joy and became miserable. I drank for sociability and became argumentative. I drank for sophistication and became obnoxious. I drank for friendship and made enemies. I drank for sleep and woke up tired. I drank for strength and felt weak. I drank for relaxation and got the shakes. I drank for courage and became afraid. I drank for confidence and became doubtful. I drank to make conversation easier and slurred my speech. I drank to feel heavenly and ended up feeling like hell.” – Unknown

Oomph 👊👊👊.

Maybe I’ll drink tomorrow, not tonight. 🖕🍷

Advertisements

Sober me doesn’t….

– feel like absolute shit all of the time

– need to take up to 3 anti anxiety pills a day

– eat a curry pot noodle and then forget I’ve eaten it by the next day

– forget what time I went to bed

– forget what I what’s apped my friend

– spend a shit load of money on poison

– have a niggling ache in my right side (liver)

– obsess over what time is “ok” for me to drive the next day

– feel ashamed when I go to the same shop for booze

– shit myself whenever I see a cop car

– feel lethargic and unable to do any proper work during the day

– eat 10 biscuits with a cup of coffee at midnight because “that will soak up the booze”

– wake up bleary eyed, late and quickly dress to sort the animals out, realising en route that my clothes are on back to front and inside out

– feel so god damn irritable most of the time that I could easily rip my own head off

– crap on about anything and everything, being a total and utter gobshite

– feel so swollen that I need maternity clothing to accommodate my booze gut

– feel deep and complete sadness a lot of the time

– have that “old haggard wench” look

– crave chips for breakfast

– stay up until ridiculous o’clock drinking vodka and red bull and watching The Inbetweeners

– wake up sometimes with puffy eyes from excessive crying

– have a mouth that tastes like a drain

I don’t want to wait until January

This time of year, when one is boozing, is a “shall I bother now” time of year.  Being a strong “committer” to the January Dryathlon has always, in the past, given me a sense of “license” to drink like a disgusting fish throughout aaallllll of December, and of course it now being almost December, I have experienced many “fuck it” moments.

Then I thought – why not challenge myself (it still makes my skin crawl that I consider not drinking poison a challenge), and try kicking this crap again now.  I mean, why not?  I have nothing to lose, at all.  There are many scenarios (I’ll list in order of likelihood):

  1. I have 3 days off booze and then come Friday, think “fuck it, I’ll do Dryathlon in January – New Year New Me, and all that jazz”.
  2. I have a few weeks off booze, “white knuckling it” through and eating like a starving wildebeest, before I then “reward” myself by getting tanked up from Christmas Eve Eve onwards.
  3. I actually have a sober Christmas.  I’m almost laughing out loud at the absurdity of me actually “achieving” that – but hey, why the hell not?   I like a challenge, and abstaining from the booze at this time of year, with a view to not drinking at Chrimbo (what?!?! – the horror!!) is indeed a challenge for a saturated pissed up fish like me.

With the caveat that number 2 above is the likeliest eventuality, I will nevertheless give this a go again from today.  Day numero uno, encore.

I’ve been reading some interesting stuff about dopamine since Hurrah for Coffee posted a few days ago.  It’s so bloody true – the “promise of a reward” is often what drives me to want to drink.  I can literally be sat thinking about anything other than booze, and sometimes even actively thinking how much I don’t want to drink, and then a thought of a “nice evening”, or ” a bit of a laugh” pops into my head.  I then proceed to sink loads of poison, quickly, in order to reach…………….well, I don’t know what, and that’s the worrying thing.  Booze doesn’t do much positive for me anymore.  I know that it never has done, but my point is that I used to think it did.  Now, I rarely even think it does.  It isn’t even a laugh anymore.  So much has happened around me recently that has had a direct link to alcohol in some form.  I read a comment from Anne (ainsobriety) on another blog earlier – it was, “It’s the booze.  It ruins everything”.  Ain’t that the truth.

Today, at least (well, right now anyway), I don’t want to wait until January.

Wine in Italy – Urgh

So, I’m now in Italy. The trip I was doing “Ocsober” ahead of, and assuming I would be saving my saved booze money for wine in Italy.

Anybody who reads my blog will know what happened the day after my big Ocsober promises.

Anyway, we are in Florence. We went for a lovely meal yesterday evening and ‘obviously’ ordered some house wine to go with our meal. My partner loves a glass with her dinner. I hate drinking with food – I’d rather skip tea and go straight to getting tanked up (we are very different drinkers……). We had this great food, and this jug of what I can only describe as Sarsons vinegar (for non U.K. people, it basically tastes like drain water) with it. It was truly rank. And yet, we obviously had to finish it cos we’d ordered it.

I don’t need many “wine is shit with meal” reminders, cos I’m not that “refined” a drinker. But this truly was a “moment” when I thought that I could happily never drink wine again. It really was entirely unpleasant.

Will I learn? We’re off to Venice tomorrow – let’s see. I think I’m getting there, but no promises, yet anyway. Ciao 🇨🇮

I want to not want to drink

I’m thinking of trying a different approach.  My relationship with booze feels like it may (I say it with a degree of obvious trepidation) be heading towards a natural end and I really want to capitalize on that feeling.

Since my mum died, I literally couldn’t give a shit about pretty much anything.  This includes myself.  I was never big on self-care before anyway, but now I am truly apathetic about my wellbeing.  This is dangerous and I know it.  I have been on and off booze since her death and every time I drink I become angrier and angrier with myself.  At the same time, there’s something about blocking shit out that things other than alcohol just can’t deliver.  Not that I’m drinking more since she died – I mean honestly, it’s not as if I were bloody teetotal when she was alive.  This “natural end” feeling is, I think, based on the following

 

  • I hate every drop I drink, and pour it down my neck as quickly as I can. I savour nothing about “a glass with a meal” – I can pretty much do a bottle in less than an hour.  What an achievement hey ☹
  • I wake up the morning after feeling absolutely LIVID – with myself, with the world, with the booze.  I’m aware that this level of anger is normal during grief and it isn’t confined to when I am hungover – I’m pretty much furious most of the time.  But the anger with the booze (and with myself for drinking it) has really ramped up
  • Being hungover is a genuine complete waste of life.  Whilst I’m not my own biggest fan right now, I have had a massive realization since October 2nd:  any of us could literally drop dead at any minute.  Sorry to be maudlin – I really don’t mean to be – but my mum’s heart literally stopped beating without any prior warning.  She was 53.  This massive shock has led me to decide that I need to make massive changes.  Not just booze – I knew I needed to change that anyway.  But weight and smoking.  There you have it – the 2 biggest risks for heart failure and sudden cardiac arrest.  I really mean it when I say I will quit the fags and lose weight.  I want to completely change my lifestyle.  Maybe the booze will follow automatically, or is that wishful thinking?!  Anyway, back to my original point – being hungover is a waste of life.  One of the worst wastes of life at that.  The “buzz” and “blocking out” I get for an hour or two is not worth the hours I spend feeling like crap the next day.
  • I drink against my own will.  I know that sounds stupid, but it’s true – I honestly sometimes drink when I can think of nothing worse to do.
  • I don’t feel very well.  I feel anxious, edgy, furious and sometimes quite sick.  I am tired of doing “tactical voms” just to feel better (gross, I know!).

 

I’m going to blog more.  I think I may take some advice I saw on someone’s blog recently – be aware of every drink I have and see exactly what it “brings to my life”.  I feel that I’m getting there naturally, but to be really honest, I want to not want to drink.  I want to be one of those people who is genuinely happy to say “I don’t drink”.  I have had thoughts of attempting moderation but then laughed out loud at myself – given how I demolish booze, there will never be any middle ground for me.

Sorry if this has been a bit rambly, and I don’t mean to crap on, but I thought I’d better get my thoughts down before I decided to drown all my thinking out (which I will not be doing tonight – please let me feel better tomorrow!).

By the way – where the hell is everyone?!  It’s so quiet on here!

I’m back 😊

Why drink like that?

My mum texted me this once. 

Our relationship was largely based on piss taking, humour and being good mates. All of this was coupled with a casual trepidation around expressing how much we loved each other. 

I won’t bore you with the details of my childhood, save to say I didn’t spend a lot of it with my mum. 

But BOOZE. This is significant here. 

My mum grew up with alcoholic parents, and at the age of 12, was groomed by an alcoholic 21 year old who she later went on to marry and who became my father. He drank throughout their “relationship”, and when she gave birth to me, he was too drunk to be allowed into the hospital to see me (as were my grandparents – my mum’s parents).

Long story short – mum became tired of dad’s boozing and abuse and left. Her parents later died. And guess what?

She didn’t take a fucking drink! 

After ALL of that alcohol in her life, she never liked to touch the stuff. At “worst”, she would have one Malibu and coke and she hated it. She genuinely didn’t see the point in drinking.  She didn’t hate booze – she  simply and literally couldn’t see the point of it. I could never understand why – especially knowing what I know now about alcohol, and how ingrained in her life alcohol always was.

This brings me to my heading “why drink like that?”. As I’ve said, we always took the piss, had a joke and would text/FB:what’s app about ANYTHING (other than serious mother/daughter relationship stuff). My partner and I were in Spain on holiday a few years ago and I sent my mum a message detailing how we’d gotten so hammered we’d taken part in evening entertainment, stand-up etc, before puking “our rings up” (a phrase she loved). 

I thought she’d reply with something like, “you fucking twat”. (A common text from her to me, booze related or not). 

Instead, she replied with:

“Why drink like that?”. 

I will never forget that message. 

She never told me she thought I drank too much. 

She never said anything about me boozing at all. 

But if she can go through a life like that, and not even have a single desire to “dive bomb into a vat of booze”, why the fuck should I use this drug to dull my feelings of loss. Her current husband (not my drunken abusive father) was with her for 17 years. He drank daily until they got together. He stopped just like that – she didn’t even ask him to (she was that indifferent toward booze) – but he stopped because he was happy, and because she was enough for him. 

I thought he would pour himself a bottle of whiskey when she died. It’s been 6 days and he hasn’t touched a drop. 

I need to be present to arrange her funeral. She wouldn’t drink if I had died, so why the fuck should I drink after she has died. 😘😘