So we made it through the second day of being sober. I went to bed with my husband, sober. He's always sober, I'm usually the one not. When he drinks I can tell, it oozes out of his pores, I wonder if he actually knows what I smell like when I'm not sodden in wine.
I read alot during the day, put my work off until early evening. I'm telling myself that was a cunning coping strategy, working when the wine bells start ringing but it was really more out of reading too much during the day and focussing on the blogs I've found rather than actually putting work off. Work was put off and as a consequence I worked through my 'wine o' clock bells'. I'd like to tell you I'm that clever, but I'm not. Although reviewing that today might make it a way of coping, or might make it worse if I cave in and drink and ALSO don't get any work done. Its a conundrum.
So I made it through the night, a bit grumpy I have to say as I always am when I don't drink. There was cider in the fridge I could have had one of those but they're gassy and not too my taste and they don't get me buzzy and head 'switched off' easily. Well not unless you drink 4 in a row and then let me tell you, all that fizz, not good for a girl's tummy. So I made some milkshakes a large jug and put it in the fridge. Dunno why I don't particularly like milkshakes, but seemed to be what I wanted to do so I went with it.
Armed with work for 2 hours into 8pm, milkshakes and crisps (what am I three?) we got through the 'calling' for a run to the shops for wine. Helped by the fact it was a vile night of rain and squall, who wants to go out in that AND spend money just to feel like shit the next day? Normally me, let me tell you. So hunkered down and swishing about with milk coming out of my ears I settled down for a bit of TV, nowt on and restless. So I read the first month of Belles blog. I've listened to her podcasts and she'd kindly emailed me her first month. That was my Friday night. So much of it resonated with my own life. The wine calling resonated big style, not the living in Europe with no kids and a husband, and NOT the running. All sound appealing in someone elses life. But, never say never - I like to walk and when walking alot (well 5 miles a day) I'd once contemplated running to get further. It passed quickly but I can see how addictive it might get. I have dogs, I walk them, that does me fine.
Or it use to, I've kinda stopped walking. Combination of moving to a new area, drinking more and feeling like shit. Also struck me that I just have let go alot of the things I use to like, to the point that I sometimes wonder if I remember what I did like to do (before I drank). I know I love being outdoors but one thing Belle said completely took my attention. Once the wine is open, I stop, I retreat, I huddle down, I hunker and I do fuck all. Unless sitting on the sofa sloping off back and forward to the kitchen becomes an actual activity, my evenings are devoid of anything aside Chardonnay, Pinot noir or Cava. Am I really this dull.
I learnt a long time ago not to generally keep alcohol in the house, it sings to me like wee mice from the cupboards. It calls until the last drop is safely in my belly.
I'd had a chat with someone once who'd said about the alcohol left in the house - pour it away. 'Its such a waste of money to do that I cried'. 'and pissing it down the toilet a few hours later after you've drank it isn't somehow?'.
You see my biggest issue and I don't know how true this is of other folks but I don't have an OFF button.
Happy Saturday folks. Hopefully tomorrow will be good news and day 3.
Day three is normally my arch nemesis.
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