Of course, because sharing honestly is what I do, I float the idea online that I might wrap up Mrs D Is Going Without and stop posting. The reaction from my online community is swift and intense.
Comment from ‘DeeDee’
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m sorry, that’s selfish of me, and you must do what you need to do. But I am really sad to hear this. I really look forward to and enjoy your posts so much. You will be VERY much missed around here lady!
Comment from ‘Clara’
My sobriety is bringing out my selfishness! I desperately want you to be posting all the time as I enjoy your writing so much and it inspires me tremendously. You never sound like a whiner to me, just always honest and real. If you do ‘wind this up’, please consider writing about other things. It’s not just your stories of sobriety I enjoy, but your honest approach to yourself that is truly remarkable.
Comment from ‘Samantha’
Nooooooooo!! You will be hugely missed. I have loved reading your story. You have helped me to cope on the toughest of days by reading your honest and courageous story.
Comment from ‘LovelyLady’
You are an inspiration to everyone who reads your blog. Your honesty is what does it . . . you put it all out there and that is so wonderful! I would so miss you if you wrap it up.
Comment from ‘BugsyMalone’
Mrs D . . . I hope you stay here, even if you only post monthly . . . But you know what’s best for you. Just a bit longer? ;-)
Comment from ‘Giordana’
Just don’t stop writing . . . you have a gift with words. You can talk to me about anything you like!! Thanks Mrs D!
Comment from ‘John Smith’
Well, the huge revelations may be over, but it is, in my honest opinion, not a reason to quit blogging. Because your experience may turn out to be very valuable for people who have the same problems as you. First, you had the support of people. Now, people may need YOU.
Ouch. Oh god, this is hard. I can’t figure out what to do. I love getting all this complimentary feedback and I do really appreciate it. But I’m not getting crazy big-headed about it, I’m keeping it real. I’m very aware of the fact that what I have done in getting sober is not unique; there are thousands of people who quietly and bravely get sober every day in every city in every country in the world. I’m not the cleverest, bravest person in the world. I’m one of thousands of clever, brave, sober people. I just write about it publically in a way that people relate to, that’s all.
I realise the only way forward and out of my quandary is to start telling friends and family about this wonderful treasure I have in my life—my sobriety ‘secret weapon’, my magical, astounding, unbelievably powerful blog and the lovely community surrounding it.
I know that only by opening up about the blog can I start to figure out what to do with it. If Mrs D Is Going Without is going to continue, it needs to be fully integrated with my real life. I am Lotta Dann, suburban housewife and mother-of-three, and I am Mrs D, sober blogger. I need to join both bits of me together.
So I take a deep breath, gird my loins, and start telling my friends and family about Mrs D Is Going Without. I do it very slowly and carefully (this is a big scary deal), but it feels right so I forge ahead, albeit delicately. I’m feeling brave and strong, but vulnerable and nervous as well. It’s a strange mixture.
Corin is nervous for me too, but also really proud of what I’ve done—not just giving up drinking but also creating a community through blogging. We talk through whether the possibility of me being outed publically as an ex-boozer will affect his career, but can’t see how it possibly could. What is there to criticise? We can’t see any shame in me admitting to having a drinking problem. Alcohol is addictive! And even if the news was to break—‘Corin Dann’s wife admits battle with the bottle!’—we feel in a powerful position. We’re the ones revealing the truth, we’re the ones front-footing it, we’re not hiding anything. We’re not ashamed. If people want to judge, let them. (And, truth be told, we also know the chances of those sorts of dramatic headlines are slim—he’s not that much of a tabloid celebrity!)
So together we’re feeling strong about telling friends and family, but I know that Corin is also slightly wary for me, cautioning me to go slowly and standing by to support me if I do encounter any unexpected reactions.
I’m not embarrassed to be revealing the truth to my friends and family about my sober struggles (I’ve always been very open about my drinking problem), nor am I worried that I have offended anyone on my blog (I have only ever written about myself). To be honest mostly I’m anxious that outing the blog might affect the authenticity of how I write and share, and in return jeopardise the genuine responses I receive from my online community. But I have no choice, given I don’t want to keep a big secret any longer.
First, a sister gets told, then a few days later a friend. A week goes by and I tell another family member, then the next day another friend. Slowly but surely, one by one, everyone who knows me finds out about my blog.
They’re all amazed to discover what I’ve secretly been up to online, and are mostly very kind about it. Some people are a bit taken aback that I’ve kept such a big secret for so long, but I keep explaining how desperate I was early on, why the anonymity was so powerful, and how privacy was so vital to keeping me honest and strong. Once they’ve had a good read through all my old posts they totally get that.
Throughout this scary ‘opening up’ process I keep my online community firmly in mind and think hard about all the people who have reached out to me through comments and emails. I feel very supported not just by Corin but also by all of the lovely people I have ‘met’ through Mrs D Is Going Without. There are so many brave, newly sober people online (or people desperate to become sober), reading, lurking, posting comments, sending heartfelt emails. Whenever I think of them I feel brave and strong and determined.
After the big move away from our old community, and the stress of writing the Master’s, this opening up of the blog is probably the hardest emotional phase I’ve been through since I stopped drinking. But once again my sobriety proves itself to be robust. I prove to myself that I am robust.
Eventually I realise that integrating the blog into my normal life isn’t going to spell disaster. I discover—joy upon joy!—that despite knowing my ‘ordinary’ people are reading (and not just online people who are interested in living sober), I’m able to continue writing posts. Not just able to, but happy to. The words keep taking shape in my mind and flowing out my fingers and onto the keyboard. I can’t stop them. They just come! I’m sooooo happy about this.
And all the while as every week passes I’m feeling more and more robust with the whole not-drinking malarkey. Five o’clock comes and goes every day (funny that) and I don’t have any strong cravings to drink. I don’t feel any misery at not being able to have a wine, nor do I need to consciously work my techniques to get through without reaching for it. The wino-voice in my head trying to convince me to drink has been all but silenced. I can’t actually believe this! I’m still hyper-aware of my sobriety but in a comfortable way, with no fear or nerves attached.
I’ve shifted from boozing like crazy every day at 5 p.m. on the dot, to angsting like crazy every day at 5 p.m. on the dot, to now where 5 p.m. slides by and doesn’t really register with me. Forgive my jubilation but WOW OH WOW OH WOW!!! How fucking cool is that?! I’m stoked to realise that what I thought must be possible is possible.
I’ve proved it. I’ve proved to myself that it is possible to work hard and concentrate and push through and retrain your brain to live a life with no alcohol added. I’ve done it. And I’m not miserable. I’m just living!
Mrs D Is Going Without (Day 517)
Someone emailed me to ask how the hell did I just decide to stop and then stop? It does sound so easy when put like that. And while it hasn’t been easy to learn to live without wine smoothing the way . . . it actually has been easy for me to not touch the stuff. I have poured wine for others, sniffed it, had the smell wafting across the table on numerous occasions, bought it, encouraged others to drink it in front of me, and never once since the first few weeks of cravings have I actually thought to pick it up and swallow. How come?
I do feel lucky that I feel like this. But I do think that all the retraining of my brain that I did early on helped. Reading books like Jason Vale’s Kick the Drink . . . Easily! really helped me see wine not as my friend but as the enemy.
Not the enemy so much as that person that you thought was really good for you and then you slowly realise that they’re actually a really negative influence and a liability and that you’re better off slowly retreating from that person and avoiding hanging out with them.
Like that really uncool person that you just wish would stop hanging around trying to be your friend when you just find they get in the way and make dumb comments.
I can happily fill the glass of wine and hand it to a friend because I just don’t want that stuff in my body twisting my brain and sending it back into an obsessed place which I am tricked into thinking is fun when it’s totally not. I don’t want that shit getting in my way, turning me back into that loser (in my own eyes that’s what I was) who believes nothing is fun if you’re not drinking.
I actually hate the alcohol industry now for all the brain-washing it does to make you think nothing is fun or social without booze. It’s simply not true. This country is awash (pun intended!) with news items at the moment about our awful drinking culture and the toll it takes on our emergency, medical, social and other services. But all the chatter is from politicians, medical professionals, the ‘experts’ etc. etc. . . . but where are the ordinary people standing up and saying, ‘This has got to stop!’
I feel like standing on the top of the mountain yelling for all to hear, ‘TAKE THE BOOZE AWAY, I PROMISE YOU LIFE IS JUST AS FUN!!!’ I’d probably have to add, ‘AND YOU’LL GAIN BACK LOADS OF TIME YOU DIDN’T EVEN REALISE YOU WERE WASTING’ and then follow up with ‘OKAY, SO YOU MIGHT BE MORE EMOTIONAL BUT EVEN THAT FEELS RIGHT IN THE BIG PICTURE’. By now I’d probably have a sore throat from all that yelling but I’d just have to add, ‘IT IS TOTALLY POSSIBLE TO LIVE WITHOUT ALCOHOL—REALLY IT IS!!!’
All the lucky normal drinkers wouldn’t need to respond. But how I wish all the hundreds of other dysfunctional boozers like me would give sobriety a go. How much happier would so many of them (and their families) be?
Righto, time for a cup of tea after all that yelling. Bye!
Love, Mrs D xxx