I made it to two months sober this week. It feels good. Quietly, solidly, good, like I’m the Cheshire cat, smiling down from my tree branch (don’t knock me off, don’t knock me off!!).
I did have a craving on Friday night. But it was the first one for weeks. I can hardly believe that really. I think I know the reason too…My in-laws know I’m “TT” as they call it. I think they’re quietly impressed, and have been enthusiastically buying me new AF drinks to try. Last night they sent me a bottle of “Fre” de-alcoholised white chardonnay. It was interesting – I used a wine glass, and it was quite convincing. A bit too bloody convincing. I didn’t enjoy that feeling. On the up-side, it prompted a really good chat with Mr Red. And I was able to step outside the situation and analyse it a little. As I explained to him, it didn’t make me fancy a glass of wine. No, for about 20 minutes, I just wanted a whole damn bottle full of obliteration. I think this shocked him a bit. I also told him about the relief I feel now, not subjecting myself to the constant thoughts of drinking.
“Why did I drink so much last night/why do I drink so much/I mustn’t drink tonight/can I drink tonight/I’ll drink tonight but not tomorrow/I’ll have one glass/Fuckitfuckitfuckit”.
And repeat, endlessly. ALL the time. Every day of every week.
Now I have (a little) distance from this cycle of behaviour, I’ve realised the true extent of my slavery into it. This is why it is SO much easier for me to stop drinking completely. It’s a simple answer to the myriad of questions. And after a short while, the question stops being asked so much, not even daily, and then suddenly you realise you’ve not heard it for a week. Maybe two. And perhaps there will be times when the cravings briefly raise their ugly heads above the parapet again, but this is nothing, NOTHING in comparison to the constant hell of that incessant, pride-destroying chatter.
I had a dream where I’d forgotten that I’d stopped drinking, and gone out with my friend and got royally pissed. I felt disorientated and sick to my stomach, but the worst of it was the crushing disgust and disappointment I felt with myself. I woke up and the relief of reality was huge. I revelled in it.
Being sober is also making me less selfish. I’m much more likely to think about the feelings of others (instead of obsessing over when I can legitimately start drinking). Example: I’m supposed to be having my much-coveted weekly lie-in this morning. I’m having a lie-in of sorts, but on the bottom bunk in my eldest’s room, keeping him company while he watches an *ahem* hilarious Sooty and Sweep dvd. This doesn’t sound like much of a sacrifice, but hungover Red would have likely slept through his little requests for a TV buddy. We’re faced with a rainy Sunday here up north, and I’ve actually found myself suggesting to the Redlets that we get the paints out. Anyone who knows me will find this hard to believe. Three children under 6 – with paint??? And me?? The threat level to soft furnishings and walls is at about defcon 1. But I can handle it, oh yes – I’m sober, and happy!!
Enjoy your Sundays too, people, whatever you’re up to..