No, just joking. As if. I don’t think this is the time or place for me to rave on about my quest for blissful sobriety. ‘I’m great, thanks!’ is what simply comes out of my mouth and I start talking about my thesis research while Corin goes to fetch me a Red Bull from the bar. (I am having just one. I have learnt my lesson about energy drinks.) It does feel good to have a drink in my hand and I tell myself that for all anyone knows it could have vodka in it. I decide to pretend to myself that it is actually vodka and Red Bull and for some reason this private deceit relaxes me. I know no one probably gives a toss what I’m drinking but whatever works for me, right?
There are quite a few people here who I know from my own work at TVNZ over the years and it’s fun chatting and catching up. I feel strangely cocooned in the dark party atmosphere and actually quite safe and calm. Some people are obviously drunk, some people aren’t. I don’t really care. It is what it is. I’m just concentrating on me and as the evening goes on I start to feel quite amazing. This night, this party, this one is a breakthrough. I don’t exactly go crazy on the dance floor but then it was never likely to be that sort of party for me, given this isn’t my current gang of workmates. I mingle and chat away until about 11 p.m. and then Corin and I decide we’ve had enough and slip quietly out the back door. I actually feel like I’m bouncing down the footpath as we leave. Yep, there’s definitely a geeky spring in my step walking back to the car. I actually did have fun!
And, boy, I could get used to this driving home sober thing. Jason Vale was right. It feels so good getting behind the wheel! All the way home I’m wishing for a drink-driving checkpoint so I can show off how clever I am being.
Mrs D Is Going Without (Day 98)
I’m just going to say this quietly because I don’t want to come across as all cocky and confident, and maybe this is another pink cloud floating by in my life (I love the whole pink cloud concept, why are they called pink clouds anyway?) but I just love love love love being sober. I have so much more self-respect. Someone once commented on my blog when I was going to an event and was nervous that I should ‘raise a glass of self-respect’ instead of booze and I thought that was such a great concept. My self-respect is so much higher now that I’m not feeling so horribly dysfunctional.
And another lovely chap keeps commenting to me to ‘be kind to myself’ and I love that concept as well because it carries so much weight. It doesn’t just say be kind, it says look after, nurture, love, protect. All those things are true when you are being brave and making a big scary, almost unheard of (in my circle of life) decision to live without alcohol.
I feel so much more ‘in touch’ with myself. This is a hard one to explain but when my brain isn’t affected by alcohol so much anymore, I can trust all my feelings and emotions, know that I’m feeling them honestly and fully and not under a cloud. Also I don’t have those little memories when they’re vague and I think ‘was I pissed when I thought that/said that/did that?’
I just feel better. Emotionally and physically. I had a huge weekend with a barbecue on Friday night, two parties on Saturday plus hosting a lunch here on Sunday. Last night Mr D and I got into bed at 7.23 p.m.! and we were absolutely knackered, but I said to him how different it was to feel that exhausted feeling after a busy social weekend but without the headaches, sick guts or guilt.
I actually can’t think of a single reason why I would want to go back to wine again. Hope I’m not getting lulled into a false sense of security.
(Incidentally, parties are fine sober until about 11 p.m. when people start giving you sloppy hugs and stop making much sense and at that point slipping out the back door is advisable.)
Sadly my self-satisfied sober joy doesn’t last. Monday comes, I’m tired, and at 5 p.m. I start hankering for a wine. Just a few thoughts, not a huge wave of them like it would have been 90-odd days ago when I was first sober, but they’re still there. I push the thoughts aside, visualise myself going to bed sober, get through the witching hours and retire early. Tuesday, same thing. This seems to be a pattern for me. I can manage social occasions okay, but in the quiet weekdays I struggle. It’s that bloody ‘empty space’ again. What does that say about me?
I ponder on this as we creep closer to Christmas Day. I’ve got a lot to do for Christmas this year; we’re hosting a four-day extravaganza with ten-plus people descending on our house. I have to borrow mattresses just to fit everyone in. I’m trying to be cool and calm and cruisey and, you know, that low-maintenance version of myself that I so want to be. But with my life having flipped on its head and my brain all raw and sober all the time, I find myself getting really stressed as the day approaches. Can I possibly get through Christmas surrounded by drinkers and not-drink?
If I do, it’ll be a big deal. For me, Christmas has always been about food and wine and wine and wine (unless I’m pregnant or breastfeeding). Last Christmas I started with bubbles at breakfast and didn’t stop drinking all day. I just kept a steady supply of booze going down my throat from 8 a.m. until about 9 p.m. . . . I didn’t fall over or vomit, but I’m pretty sure I was slurring in the afternoon and certainly would have had a distracted, boozy demeanour going on. We have a framed photo from that day of me and my dad, smiling with our arms around each other. I’m wearing a very expensive blue dress and a lovely brooch. There is a pink paper hat from out of a cracker on my head and I am leaning into Dad. To most people I probably look fine. But I look at it and just see bloated and drunk.
This year (all going well) I won’t be blurry and distracted. I won’t look bloated in any photos (I’ve finally started losing weight—woohoo!), and I won’t slur my words. But will I be happy? Jury’s out on that one.
One thing’s for sure, I can’t hide away. I can’t let the family down and I don’t want to be a glum non-drinker, goddamnit! I have to do this and do it sober and act like I’m fine and maybe I will be fine but if not at least I’ll come out the other side in one sober piece. Thankfully I’ve got my awesome blogging tool, my precious outlet, and I claw desperately for it as the 25th draws closer.
Mrs D Is Going Without (Day 107)
My first sober Christmas. I’ve been looking forward to it actually. A chance to show everyone how happy I am sober. Oh clever sober me! Planning nice fresh ginger beer drinks and lime and mint crushed with ice and soda water. Super! Wonderful! Awesome!
But here I am, four sleeps to go, it’s nearly midnight, I’m wound up like a top, my brain is whirring and I’ve just snuck quietly out of the bedroom to come write this blog in the hope that it will release some of the tension in my thoughts and I can get to sleep.
I think I’ve been living in a lovely sober bubble for the last however-many days that it’s been since I took the wine away. Just me in my house with my lovely husband and sons and my neighbourhood of friends plus family, some close, some far away, all there on the phone and email etc.
And now it’s Christmas and everyone is descending on us and I’m doing all the organising (which is fine, I’m an organisational geek) but there’s things being said and actions being taken that is the usual stuff of families but it’s like brutal fingers are poking, poking, poking at my bubble upsetting my quite delicate equilibrium. I don’t think I realised quite how delicate it was.
It doesn’t help that I wrote in my last post that I loved ‘getting out of it’ and I’ve just been thinking of getting out of it lately. Just getting totally ‘out of it’. OUT of it. OUT OF IT. Just getting out of it.
It’s not going to happen, though. Oh no siree bob. No fucking way. I’m going to grit my teeth and get through. And who knows, maybe this tension will pass and I’ll enjoy myself! I’m sure I will, actually. Once everyone is here in one place I can submit to the craziness and look in my boys’ faces and feel good for them and look in the mirror and feel good for myself because all I have to do is not-drink and everything will be alright in the end.
The blogosphere is awash with stressed ex-boozers writing posts just like mine. Sober shoulders are tensing right around the world and we’re all devising and sharing our coping strategies online. It’s awesome; I don’t feel the slightest bit alone in my sober stress, despite my family not really getting what a big deal this is for me. Through the magical entity that is my blog, a community of likeminded people is supporting and fortifying me. The camaraderie that is floating around the internet is priceless.
Comment from ‘Sunny’
Good luck Mrs D. Remember, it’s the first drink that does the damage. Don’t pick up the first one and you won’t get drunk. There are no days off if you are an alcoholic.
Comment from ‘Milly’
Day 100 for me, and you and me and all of us out here in the sober blogosphere are going to soldier on through this holiday season.
Comment from ‘Annabel’
This will be my first sober holiday. I had a meltdown about a week ago where I felt completely overwhelmed with everything I had to do and all the feelings that go along with that. I’ve never had to actually deal with them before. Things feel better now and I bet you can get to that place too. The one thing that keeps me going is how miserable I was this time last year when I was drinking heavily. That was a very Un-Merry Christmas. Good luck to you!
In the final few days before everyone arrives I get busy organising the house and stocking the cupboards. For the past few weeks we’ve had emails flying around the family developing a delicious menu. I’ve received everyone’s financial contribution and race around the city picking up special deli products, fresh fruit and vegies, and gourmet meat from the butcher. I have let it be known that I’m not interested in discussing or purchasing the alcohol. It was a little nerve-racking doing this but I’m trying to be brave. I’ve got no idea what everyone is thinking about my not-drinking. I haven’t heard much, other than ‘good on you’, which is nice. At least no one has tried to convince me to keep drinking. On the flip side, nor are they asking me much about it. It’s all largely going unsaid which is . . . I don’t know what that is, actually. It just is what it is.