The Alcohol (free) Diaries: Day 11

I am on day eleven of being a non drinker…

The response to my declaration of attempting to go 365 days without alcohol has been great, lots of well dones that I really don’t deserve only eleven days in.

Always nice to have support though, and peer pressure is a great thing to help see me through the year.  Because it will be bloody embarrassing to write a post saying I have failed…..

I know some of you don’t understand, or see it as a big deal.

And I know some of you will read my pledge to go 365 sober with a statement in your head saying “I can’t do that”, and some will read saying “I don’t want to do that.”

Over the last year I have gone from being a “I don’t want to do that” to a “I can’t do that”, to here, now, trying to do that.

And for me it is a big deal – my buddy, alcohol and I have spent a lot of time again – it is probably my most successful relationship to date.

I don’t worry about the here and now, at the moment, apart from consuming more Jaffa Cakes than normal, it is going ok.  The fact that I have spent three months barely having a tipple has started me off well.

I have huge anxiety about the summer, when after school play dates are usually fueled with Prosecco. BBQs, Sunday afternoons in the pub, my summer breaks.  My annual trip to Cornwall with other families usually resolves around how early can we pop the cork (although I think I am the one who starts it….)

I love a good Summer session.

The sun is a perfect excuse to take the kids and friends to the pub and call it parenting…..

Pissed parenting – but still parenting.

I suppose the sensible thing to do is to stop stressing about the summer and focus on the now.

Alcohol has played a bigger part in my life than I care to acknowledge.  There have been periods where I have felt dependent, those weeks when you put out the recycling and you generally consider just driving to the tip instead to avoid the shame of the bin mans stare.

When you share a house with minors and no one else of drinking age – there really is no one else to blame for the intense chinking noise the bins make when they lob them into the lorry!

About six months ago I had a weird allergic reaction to something.  It basically made my face swell up and my eyes turn bright yellow.  As I sat on hold to the off duty hours doctor I diagnosed myself via Google.  I was convinced I was either in the early stages of turning into a Werewolf, or had significant liver damage which had caused jaundice.  The hair on my chin made me think werewolf, the bottles in the bin made me think liver damage.

It was a close call between the two.

The fear that my one to two large (we all have a glass you can fit half a bottle in, yes?) glasses of wine a night had finally caught up with me and my liver was fecked was terrifying.

When the yellow finally subsided, the swelling went down, and the doctor confirmed it was an allergy to something – the relief was indescribable.

I celebrated with a glass of wine…..

Because after all that worry, “I deserved it.”

I mean – HOW BLOODY STUPID….

 

And herein lies the problem.

Because I can generally find a reason each day for why I deserve a glass of wine….

Or two.

I used to just drink when I went out.  Then I had kids.

You go out less with kids, so you move the wine in.

Wine in the fridge, wine in the glass, wine in my hand, and suddenly the bottle is in the bin.

I have been convincing myself for years that everyone is the same, we all like a tipple when the kids have gone to bed.  But, the reality is, it is just the people like me, the addictive personalities, who hear the wine calling to them at 7pm and answer the song with a pop of a cork.

Do I think I am an alcoholic?

No – and Google seems to agree.

Do I think I drink too much?

Yes – and Google seems to agree.

Can I cut down?

Probably, but am sure at some point, something will happen that allows me to give myself permission to drink a bottle of Pinot on a school night, and then do the same the night after.

So hence, why I am trying life without.

A life free from mascara stains on the pillow where I was too merry to wash off the day, a life free from realising my willpower is tosh when I agree to ‘just one glass.’

A life without my crutch, my confidence, my cool, cold glass of take the edge of refreshment.

Because although I don’t need you, am pretty sure I still want you.

So I am going to have to learn how to replace you…..

Until next time,

Jane x