Day 95 - Sober love, apply liberally, with a shovel.

Sober treat basket overload. Sober love.

Thank you for all the support yesterday. I really appreciate it. Hugs and kisses to you all x

So the snarky head is still here but I bludgeoned it yesterday with sober treats and sober tools, I bought a basket full. A group call with Belle. An email with sober chum. A text with another. A call with a friend who makes my heart sing. I read sober blogs and forums. And, today its kept the sober-momentum going when I thought I was sunk. Today I also went to a meeting and asked for help with preventing relapse. 

Before today I've never had this many sober days in a row. NEVER. (aside pregnancy and my kids are 18/20) On the call with Belle there was a lot of chat about sober momentum, how to get there, sober treats and how to shovel sober support on with a JCB truck if you need to. Just to get through. 

So it got me thinking. I've been 'thinking about stopping drinking' and aware I've had a problem for a long time. My longest stretch of 'sober' before today was in October 2007 when I almost managed a month.

Almost, I drank on the last day. So in my head I didn't make it.

Its taken me until now to understand that what I've been trying and I mean determined trying to do is stop drinking or moderate for several years before October 2007 when I managed 30 sober days in a row. And, its taken me SEVEN YEARS almost to the day to start getting that again.

SEVEN YEARS

I've been on day 1, day zero, day 3, day zero, day 2, day zero, day zero, day zero [repeat this loop for SEVEN YEARS up until October 4th 2014.] 

AND EVERY MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE I'VE BEEN BASHING MY HEAD WITH A VIRTUAL BRICK OF SHAME AND SELF LOATHING FOR A LONG TIME BUT THE MOST RECENT FOR SEVEN YEARS

No wonder I'm tired. I've been trying to get sober momentum (now that I know what that is) for the last seven years. And, I'm glad I found out about all the sober love and treats around and stopping hitting myself on the head with a brick. And its working. Sober tools work.

So even now, even on Day 95 when I've been feeling snarky I know that I need to not believe that voice in my head that tells me so many things which are wrong, like I should drink now and it will be OK.

What if it takes me another SEVEN YEARS to get this far.

Now, that's scarier than not drinking today and that's all I'm doing. Not drinking today.

And I'm loading up the sober treats, supports, emails, forums, podcasts, blogs, hugs and sober love until I understand inside myself that I'm worth being sober for. I'm learning so much from you all, I can't thank you enough. So I'm opening my arms up and loading myself up with sober love and tools.

Even if I sink in sober love.

So there. So what I'll be sober because today that's best for me.

And today I started my evening sober routine at 3pm today because I knew I needed to.

So there. I'm still sober, even though my heads telling me to give this all up. But, I need to say no.

And why, I keep telling myself, well I might not have sober again for a while if I stop today and the way I'm going and was drinking, maybe I don't have another SEVEN YEARS of abusing myself like this by drinking malarkey. So I say no.

Load me up on sober please. I'm too scared of going back. 

I can only deal with today and today, right now, I'm sober.

So apply sober love, liberally, with a shovel. Just do it already Daisy.

ETA to add a comment from Bea -

Daisy, your instinct is right; sober momentum is terrifically strong but can be undone with just one drink, like throwing your brick of shame into the spokes of a moving bicycle. So don't stop pedalling, ever.

Day 69 - Attack of the hormones

You looking at me?????

I'm still very much in meh-self-critical-land. So you'll excuse me, perhaps if I'm a but glum-some. It is hormone time here in sober girl land and whilst I know this passes, the blackness that arrives with my monthly cycle is crippling. Although to be fair and sorry if this is really too much information, I'd always managed this (like so many things in my life) with red wine and chocolate. So when I gave up the wine I was dreading my period. Its not like its a barrel of laughs at the best of times but coping with it without wine, was unthinkable.  However I have to say even though its been 69 short (long) days, the effects of PMT etc have been vastly reduced since I stopped drinking. It might be because I've taken vitamin supplements too, it might be because the wine made it worse, who knows. I only know that a benefit of not drinking seems to be less PMT.  Woo hoo ladies.

OK so my husband constantly invading the bathroom when I get sorted for some sober time with my podcast my candles and my bubbles has resulted in serious inner rage, nothing to do with PMT. 

You know, of course I, like many mothers, girlfriends, wives, have a magnetic arse. I was born with it or it arrived when the kids arrived. This bloody arse of mine turns instantly to ON when it splashes its way into the bath for some quiet time. Doens't yours? Isn't it just the time other householders have lost something that only you can find. Or when the phone goes and not one person thinks to say, actually she's naked in the bath and talking to MIL isn't really appropriate for either party. Or like last night when something is spilt on the floor, no imminent danger to mankind as we know it, and whilst you have no interest, no cloth, no means of helping and no idea why they burst in, they do. And, no I didn't offer him my big fluffy sober towel. You are covered in soap suds and can offer no solution to the worlds problems, that's when my magnetic bum is at its finest.

{we do have more than one bathroom in this house, DARLING.}

I am learning to contain my inner rage, soapy or otherwise, its not my fault I'm so popular I tell myself calmly. Could I please have some peace. Thank you.

What my husband tells me when challenged is that he's not use to a naked girl in the bath living with him. He likes to check I'm OK, which is man code for 'naked'. Whilst right now I'm really not in the mood for anything but a nice relaxing sober bath, I giggle.

So you see its really my fault, being a real live girl and all that.

I'm not about to compromise on my sober bubbles, so I'm drawing up a peace treaty, offering, contract negotiation to allow me to have some quiet time. 

Onwards to Day 70 tomorrow, and a look back at my sober week. Hopefully with less hormones. Have yours got less as the sober momentum continues? I wonder if its a normal getting sober thing, decrease in feeling crappy at a certain time of the month.

Day 65 - The joy of bed

Today I have to confess, I spent the morning reading sober blogs, working on my own comments (thank you all), working on a power point and all from my bed. Something that's gripped me from being surrounded by sober love is that I never really appreciated bed nor the concept of sleep either. Or working from its cosy enclave. It's brilliant. Quick email to the director of my project, in my jammies. Braw.

I'd be known to say, sleep - bah! Its for losers.

Oh dear, now if there was ever a statement which was utterly wrong it was that. I take each bit of it back. Sleep dear hearts is not for losers, its epic.

Sleep is mega-epic-with-bells-on.

I don't think I'd ever really thought of sleep or bed or rest as anything other than a whimsical indulgence. Something people did when they didn't know what else to do. Or were lazy.

[Dodges bricks and other pillows heading my way]

To be honest, I've always struggled with sleep. Getting to sleep for me was epically hard, one of the ways I managed this was, surprise, surprise - drinking lots/passing out.

So latterly bed/sofa/sleeping places then became places full of wakeful guilt. Of self torture - what did I say, what did I do - churning around my head as I began to rouse. 

They were places to dread.

I've always had a bad sleep relationship. I sleep heavy, it makes me feel groggy. I'm a shite napper, I wake up feeling like I've been drugged or hit by a tonne of bricks. I'm like a bear with a sore head when I wake, I'm groggy, I feel like I'm being dragged awake, like a heavy object being dragged to consciousness. Every single day. Mornings are a dread for me from a 'how long will I be before I can function' kinda way. I'm a natural night owl I tell folks, I worked in clubs in my late teens, wrote all my assignments in the dead of night.

Seemingly as a child, I was a real 'growler' ridicoulusly hard to wake, and force 10 grumpy until I roused. As an adult, you simply don't talk to me, allow me to stott off all the walls in search of coffee and you'll find me cowering over a cup of coffee scowling, muttering, until the second cup. Do not approach, good friends know to remain silent, or fear the wrath. Its really quite silly. I'm an aproachable, happy wee soul, unless I'm just woken. Its how it is, how it always has been.

Unless I drank, if I drank I woke easily like a snap of a finger. So I started to use drink to help regulate my sleep. (I know it sounds like a pathetic excuse, but I did).

Oddly if I needed to wake early, or make sure I didn't sleep deeply for long enough I regulated that with drinking, as the sleep was lighter/more broken.  I was classically the one that stayed up til silly o clock boozing, then up a few hours later, baking for the kids, or the visitors. Boinging out of bed. I only boing out of bed with booze, hangover free, which is not what you read when you drink. 

Although like the bastard that it is the boing kinda went too. So the advantages of drinking soon reduced and this year the hangovers started.

If I needed to sleep without worry, I also drank. To switch off the noise, the worry, the fears, the panic. 

Maybe I just drank. 

The biggest change in my drinking was the advent of hangovers, I never use to get them [again less with the brick throwing please]. Hangovers only started recently in my life, like, erm if I'm totally honest, maybe earlier this year. I have to say, not a fan. People use to say, no hangovers, you're lucky. But was I? I guess so, in some ways, but it didn't make it a reason to stop.

Until they got so bad I struggled to get up and function and that happened really quickly, like in the past year or so.

I'm enjoying the lack of hangovers now, can't say that I liked them, but mostly I powered through them like some kind of demented rat, never giving in.

So these days the whole me and bed/sleep relationship is unchartered territory.  All I do know is that bed is safe, warm, without regret. Its my go to rather than my 'fight from'. I still have the panic, the anxiety but its noise is reduced as the days of wine increase. They are a work in progress. For now, rest, bed, sleep, these are needed.

If that's the most staggering positive change in 65 days of not drinking, then bring it on, with pillows and a nice over cover please, oh and a book, perhaps a drink of water and some magazines thank you very much.

Tomorrow I have to go to a conference, so not a hope of working from bed. I shall be joining normal people heading out into the world, and doing rather than writing about doing. But, whilst I can, I think I might just keep indulging this lovely wee pastime. 

Who would have known bed could be such a good recovery tool. A life skill to acquire. I might add it to my list of hobbies.

The joy of bed. Who knew.

Day 50 - Keep calm and abandon ship.

Now, hoping you're well today. Almost 12 hours between posts, you'd almost think I was obsessive or something. My sober diary here is helping me enormously so I'm glad I started it. So, its DAY 50, can you hear the pride? Its making me all warm and fuzzy inside. Like really. I'd never thought I'd be so proud, I've been rolling around in 'meh-ness' in my head. Telling myself not-drinking didn't deserve praise or joy (for me, not any of you lovely folks out there being sober) Right now I'm wondering if that was the sneak of the week Wolfie? Has he been telling me that its no biggie not to drink? Has he been the one lolling on the chair like a sulky teenager saying 'so what, so what, so what....?' is 'normal people don't make a fuss of this, they don't think not drinking is a good idea'. Well Wolfie if that was you, now I'm officially angry. This feeling that this is a big deal has been creeping up on me for a day or so now.

Happy [insert your number here] Day to you!! Happy 50th Day to me, hooray there I said it. [Happy 50th to AEG too, my sober twin!!]

So for my big 5-0 I'd decided that there was an Abba tribute band locally and my treat was to get a ticket to see it. OK so I don't know many folks around and those I did know were busy so I thought sod it, I'm going.  And, in the back of my head I had the voice saying, 'you can always leave, that's OK'.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Not the night I'd planned at all.

Well I got into an almost empty hall, at 8pm (thinking it started at 8pm that's what the ticket said). Fizzy wine at the door, side stepped that, I'm driving so that's not a big deal. When I'm rational, I don't drink and drive. Lets just leave it there. And plonked myself down at a large table, in a cavernous hall, with a huge 'kitty' (big pot of drinks money) getting assembled at the table next to me. 'Is £30 enough?' 'That'll do the now' There were 6 of them, so that's (using fingers and toes here) £180 quid in a pint glass on the table. Now I'm not being judgmental here, at all but in the 3/4 of an hour whilst I sat sipping my juice, they got 3 rounds in. A round every 15 minutes. Wowser. Would I have been the same, probably.

Am I super sensitive to alcohol now, no I don't think so. But, it seemed a lot so maybe I am. All of a sudden the hall filled a bit more with quite loud folks. I'm guessing a few beers, that's OK, they're on the other side of the room. 

And then a group of gals plonked themselves by me 'nelly-no-mates' and said hello. They were a bit wobbly, a bit merry and quite chatty.  I can do chit chat, I don't find it comfy but I can do it. I had this strange notion that the place would be smaller, cosy and I'd stand at the back watching the band feeling the love and singing along. It wasn't really like that. But, maybe that was sober me just feeling a bit out of sorts being out on my own. 

The band started, great vocals and banter. And then the dragging up started. Now, I'm OK with limited audience participation, as long as its not too near me. I'm not a 'part-ic-patory' kind of a gal. One of the singers got some of the louder lasses up, much bouncing and dancing, quite sweet really.

Then the dragging up into a big circle began. Then the hand holding began. Drunken hand holding.

Now I'm really not very good with drunk folks. I can hear the irony here. But, I'm not a touchy, feely, handy-holdy kinda gal. In fact I hate it unless its with folks I know and trust and like.

I'm all for enjoying myself but strangers wrenching my arms into the air and trying to hug me, not so good at. The band were good, but not great and the 'audience part-ic-ipatory' stuff seemed to be part of the act.

Brain saying 'abandon ship, abandon ship' - small voice saying 'aw man this is our 50 day treat'. The voices were'nt wrong, neither of them. But, hey you can't win them all. Going to a band for a treat, was a great idea, this WASN'T with bells on.

Jacket, retreat, home via shop, I bought almonds and yoghurt and noodles. Don't ask me why. Is this rescue food?  All I know is that its 9.49 and normally I'd be running at breakneck speed towards the wine aisle before it shut. Not today.

HOME! Home is safe and cosy and people don't want to hold your hand. EUW. I know I'm being a bit silly here but I tried, it didn't work. At least I tried. And, I knew when to leave, still not good with drunk folks, and hand holding with strangers. Never have been, probably never will be. And, man do they talk shite over and over again.  I probably use to too.

So on with the fire at 10pm, hot chocolate almonds in a pretty bowl, 'Mamma Mia' on DVD.  Safe, cosy Abba fix. Fab. No hand holding. Phew.

Happy 50th to me. What a waste of a ticket, but at least I tried eh? I'm not sure I'll do that again!

You live and learn. And, its OK. Its OK to just leave. Go. Vamoose. Skidaddle. Drive off at speed (under the speed limit obviously) and go home.  Abandon ship. Its your sober get of of jail free card.

That's OK. Belle said a while back, can't remember which podcast, that its OK to leave when you're out and other folks aren't sober and you just want to go home. And, it is.

I do waffle on, so thank you for getting this far! If you've something kind or helpful to add or just want to say hello. Please drop a line below. I'd appreciate that. Thank you.

Day 49 - My sober week

Seven weeks sober. Day 49. Wowser.

Each Saturday another week rocks up, thankfully, sober. I like using this post once a week to look at my week and think about the small stuff and the bigger stuff. To show myself, quite frankly, that life isn't shit. Its beautiful and bonnie and to be enjoyed, not wasted away by drinking, feeling shit, drinking some more, feeling 'shitter'. I like to see my number (like I do when I log into Living Sober!), so I wrote it today on the beach a few miles from where I live. I'm so lucky, we're in an area with abundant beaches. Seven weeks ago, 49 days ago, I just couldn't see the point, or the joy in any of this. So I had to change. 

Sober treats

One thing I've noticed on this 49 day journey is that sleep, is very important. I've improved my sleeping space dramatically. For the first month of being sober, we literally slept in the living room, cosy in front of the tv on a sofa bed. Now, I've created a wee sober haven in the spare room. I think it looks quite bonnie. The words on the wall are a quote from a song I love. 'If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world.' 

Walking, walking and more walking.

This week I've started to up my exercise again. My jeans don't fit. Like REALLY don't fit. My appetite is much healthier now that I've stopped the wine, so I need to start a bit of gentle exercise. But, I'm not rushing into it, I'm sort of allergic. I have a very lazy gene.

I've also been doing a lot of gardening. Its one thing that I'd really let slip over the months with drinking. So now I'm up and out when I get some free time. This week I allowed myself a whole day to myself. Some of it I spent in the garden working on my veg patch. Some I spent walking. I gave myself permission to just enjoy it and not fret. For once, it seemed to work.

Walking at the beach gives me a chance to clean my welly's. Well that's what I tell myself.

The light is going so quickly at the moment, I can't stand it if I'm honest, so I've tried to shake myself up into a routine where I tidy (a bit) and do chores (even less) in the early evening when the wine bells start clanging. I'm also not managing to sleep early so if I'm restless, I do a bit more. Or I read, or I watch some TV. Listen to the Bubble Hour, listen to Belle. Anything to keep me busy.

Sober treats, apply liberally and often. Bunch of flowers, less than a bottle of wine. NO empty calories, unlike the wine.

I also met my therapist this week, and I went to a group session for SMART recovery. I keep loading up the sober tool box, it doesn't seem to be full yet. So I'm just adding bits where I can without feeling too overwhelmed. So far, so good. I enjoyed the session with the group folks, although the dynamic this week was different there seemed to be a bit of an atmosphere. One person was very loud, dominating the discussion, I guess they needed to be and to share like that, are you allowed to say that? I was glad of a walk afterwards to clear my head and think of the work we did today.

If you were to name your top five important things in your life what would it be? This is interesting.

Almost ten folks in the room, all named the usual 'family, kids, job, work, holiday, pets, etc'. Not one of us named our 'substance of choice there in our top five most important things for our lives' and yet my wine often came above all of those five important things. And my boozing could have made me lose all five of my most important things.  If my wine isn't important to my core happiness, why have I let it dominate my happy things. That was something to think about. 

I found NO on the beach. Just in the nick of time.

I thought about moderation this week and wondered if it could work for me. As I walked on the beach (and I swear this is true) I found a bit of washed up pottery telling me not to be so stupid. Moderation and I are not friends. I still feel very odd thinking about 'never' drinking again. It funckles up my brain cogs. [Funckles is a new word, do you like it?] 

Keeping busy during the wine hours, I chop wood and to reward myself after a lovely sober bath, I lounge in warmth.

I'm still home alone, my partner is still away for work. I thought about the fact that I'd planned an epic bender for this week when he was away. One week has turned to two and now to three. A small part of my brain is telling me I'm an idiot for not using this time, this guilt free time, to drink. I refer the small idiotic voice to the pottery (up there). 

Fierce looking dog capable of seeing off Wolfie. Honest. 

 Truth be told I'm more than a bit scared as to how that might have turned out. 2-3weeks uncontrolled drinking. No rules, no job, no boundaries. Yes the voice of unreason in my head, that Wolfie voice, is saying, it would have been epic. Just drink, he's still not home. Why not.

Its still a moron as you can hear. I refer it to the pottery in the kitchen 'NO'. And tell it I'll set the dogs on him.  Or maybe I'll just let him eat the sheep in the sink. 

Our resident sheep needed a wash. Yes I know I need help. Who knew I had a sense of humour.

So week seven, day 49. Sunshine and showers. Beaches and gardens. The voice is still here. That's for sure, but I'm using the wise words from Belle of 'oh just piss right the fuck off'. In what universe Wolfie would this scene here, at the beach, be better with a fucking hangover???? Go away.

He only understand swearing, I'm sure of it.

The sober garden.

And, I've been busy. Man have I been busy. Rather than see the weeks with my partner away as time to drink. I've used it as time to think. I've also used it to get on with my veg patch. I've hauled sleepers, I've lifted turf, I've laid matting and sworn when the gales took it off up the garden. I laid it again. I swore more when I realised I didn't like where the main path was, and moved it a foot the other way. I've dug beds, cut down trees (chainsaw yay!!), chopped wood, hacked shrubs. Its been fun.  I have learned a few things doing this, sober, no hangover. 

I'm stronger than I thought.

I'm OK on my own.

I appreciate the beauty around me.

Its also OK to enjoy spending time alone. 

Others peoples agenda's aren't the same as mine.

I don't like to ask for help, but I'll take it now and again. (But not in my garden.)

If its not right, don't put up with it, change things.

Sober treats are good.

Not drinking is hard, but I'm not dead yet.

Drinking right now, not a good idea for me.

I don't want to drink today.

Dogs don't like gardening, except digging.

I'm losing some friends, they don't get this me. I don't either but I'm going to take a chance on her.

I miss my kids, but that's normal. Drinking a gallon of wine every night, because I miss them, unhelpful.

So that's my seven sober days. I really hope yours were good, hopeful, warm, friendly, supported, sleepy and full of love.

PS, I'm starting to be proud of that number and not just see it as something 'normal' people do, not drink. I started resenting that I couldn't drink normally. Now, I'm proud that I've managed for these days. Actually proud. That's a huge change in me.

For that and your ongoing love and support, I thank you. xx

PS and in a small voice, I have a 'just for fun' facebook page. I've had it for yonks. If you do want to link up please have a peek. No pressure. I don't share my name on there just crazy pics of gardens and beaches. Oh and chickens. My friends and some folks interested in random stuff use it, they don't know I'm getting sober, so I trust you'll be kind if you stop by. I guess more sober life in virtual lands can't be a bad thing?

https://www.facebook.com/windandwellies

Day 46 - Why do I need an excuse for not drinking?

Hey how are you all this fine evening?

Warning, sober mini rant alert. [edited out - it just got boring in my head, its out know].

My friend today is working out excuses for me not drinking at the moment (again). Its really kind of her, but she was tying herself up in knots trying to fathom out a 'plan for me not drinking'. She's now on a mission. Its ALL we talk about. Xmas coming up, her coming to stay and what we (we) will tell people about my not drinking.

Her funniest one is we'll just pretend you're drinking, no one needs to know.

No, really I'm fine with 'I'm not drinking right now'.

Its no one else's business.

End of moaned out edit.

:D