Bloody hell – where’s that gone? Last week was a blur of preparation for a weekend away. The stress levels were, quite simply, insane. Did I crumble? Did I fuck.
I’m beginning to realise that I need to put things in place to help alleviate the pressure I put on myself. Just telling myself not to get stressed-out obviously doesn’t work. Getting shitfaced works temporarily, but then very quickly worsens the situation. Everything does not need to be perfect.
However, a weekend away at Whitby, in a tiny cottage, with my in-laws, Mr Red and the three children went rather well. And I didn’t need to drink. We went on a steam train over the North Yorkshire Moors, and the Redlets met Father Christmas, and much magic abounded. We enjoyed the sea-air, cosy evenings tucked up watching films. And throughout I was present, clear-headed, and even able to meet a small child who was ill at 3am with calm and reassurance. It felt good.
I found myself feeling nostalgic about the idea of drinking once, when walking through the dark cobbled streets, past cosy-looking pubs. But I played the tape forward in my mind, and I didn’t like the end of the story so much.
My last post was full of frustration and negativity. For the record, I did feel like crap that day. But realistically, that has been one really bad day out of 30. For the vast majority of the time, I’m immensely grateful to myself for just stopping.
I am getting sudden cravings for wine, usually out of left-field, often at times when I would have usually been drinking. I put this down to simply going through the process of breaking the old habits. I’m busy forming new ones – music is helping hugely. My new habit when I start cooking in the kitchen is to choose some music, usually something that kicks ass, and blast it out. It’s got to be something I love, something that gets me moving, and whacks me in the solar-plexus. Idlewild have been featuring quite a lot. I’m finding music releases endorphins similar to that first sip of wine. Really, I shit ye not.
So I’m feeling relatively calm heading towards the festivities of next week. I’m way more organised than I was this time last year, and there’s one mighty fine reason for that.
As of last night and a messy hour in the bathroom, my hair is an ever more vibrant shade of red (I was going for Ygritte, but it’s come out a bit more Melisandre..), and my nails are this colour:
I’m ready for Christmas, and I want to see what the next 30 days brings me.
With love, and a mince-pie treat,