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.

Snarksville Central

Reproduced with thanks from http://lessonslearnedinlife.com/know-your-worth-2/

I'm having a snarky day with one of my family.  Not in person just in my head. So I guess its just a virtual snarky one way conversation where I'm constantly trying to prove my worth to deaf ears, in this virtual conversation as, to be fair, its all in my head. I found that quote and it kinda fitted, finding self respect however, probably a lot harder.

I think I'm too scared to have the conversation in real life, so its rolling around my head like a snowball getting bigger and bigger.

I'm also off to my session with my therapy lady soon. This is either good or bad timing, I can't decide. 

Today is hard. 

Snarksville Central. Is it because I'm nearing 100 days? My heads telling me I'll  fail. Wolfie has is clangers out and the van with the loudspeaker out in the street.

I just don't know why. Its not a particularly unusual day, in fact the sun is even out. 

I'm off to drown myself in sunshine.

There may even be freckles if I'm not careful.

Catch you all later sober lovlies.

And thanks. Like a lot.

Day 78 - Festive planning.

Hey its Monday. Hope that's going well for you. So last night we took the bull by the horns and got some of the festive decks out. I like to think that even with 8 people here over the next week, I'm going to keep my sober cool. 

Remind me I said that.

I've my bestest booziest friend coming to stay, well one of them, I have a few. And, its going to be difficult she's also bringing her entire family with her, including another big time boozer. I've primed her to know that I'm not drinking right now. I have my own reasons and I've shared as much as I'm comfy with.  I'm not really very comfortable with drink being here, but I got told in no uncertain terms, we have to drink when we're here. We can't not drink (the we is the visitors not me). Yes, I could have cancelled. But like so many things this has been arranged BS (before sober) and whilst I am nervous, I'd feel even shittier if we cancelled. We've all had a lot of family stuff go on this year, a lot of changes and despite the plonk, I'd really not like to let them/us down. So whilst I feel like a shit friend for not wanting anyone in particular to be here, I've not cancelled and that's my responsibility.

Remind me I said that.

So in with the festive planning I've done a shed load of shopping for so many different types of posh juice. We've even corked fizzy apple for the table on Xmas day. So my sober slurping is sorted out. I've got wee can's of mocktails (I know I can make them, but this is first aid mocktails) for when the witching hour strikes and we decide its time for a wee slurp. I've no-alochol wine (rose) as well. Some might think this is cheating, but, I don't its quite nice and the two drinkers are on red or white, so there's not a cats chance in hell that this stuff will get muddled up. I chose pink for a reason. We've also lots of treats and nibbles in, lots of nuts and bits and bobs. And if all else fails I'll gorge on rice cakes. They fill me up nicely like a bean bag.

I know that being sober means I can escape the madness in the car and there's no limit to that. I can walk the dogs after meals, before meals or just sit in the car at the end of the lane with a mars bar and the radio on. I can escape, but living in the middle of nowhere means I need to be sober to do this. So being sober and my sober car, is important to keep safe for escaping. I mean where would batman be without the bat mobile.

We've also two kids coming of teenage years, so I've looked out a shed load of dvd's, games and the Wii so we can have a bit of a giggle whilst the adults get sloshed. I've also created a few sitting spots around the house. I've not bought one bottle of wine, and I'm determined I wont. I've told them to bring their own, not very festive of me but quite honestly I don't care. I've spent all my money on juice, flowers and bubble bath. I'm determined not to get stressed. As essentially xmas dinner is a roast dinner with presents, what's to stress about that (aside the people)?

With 8 bodies in this wee cottage a bit of planning has been required. Initially I was going to put us on a sofa bed nearest the kitchen, but having had a good virtual sober slap from Belle, I'm keeping my bedroom. I need a calm cosy sanctuary, a sober cave to run to. And here's where I need your help. I've upped the treats and the sober slurps in the kitchen. What do I need in my sober cave?

So far I've replenshed the flowers with a huge bunch of lilies from my son. I've got the bedding ready, my favourite and my favourite cover. I'm hiding my favourite towel in here. I think I might blow a gasket if I see my friends dad all fluffed up and wearing my sober towel. So that's in here too. I've a couple magazines, my phone charger, my ipad and charger. I was going to download a kindle app and put some books on there I've been wanting to read like Mrs D goes without. I've rescue remedy if needed, I've bubble bath for escape baths, we do have a spare telly I might bring that through although I hate tv's in bedrooms. I've even downloaded an app which lets me text from the house, as we've no signal here. So a sober text can even save the day. I'm keeping Living Sober and sober blogs loaded and will listen to Belle's sober podcasts. Hmmm,

What else could I need in my sober cave? Any clues? 

Escape tools - car keys, dogs for walking, books, podcasts, baths, bed, magazines, quiet sober cave, sober slurpy juice, mocktails, rescue remedy, ipad, kindle, sober pals to text or call.

What's in your sober arsenal over xmas? Please do let me know. Whilst I'm on Day 80 tomorrow, Day 83 on xmas day, I'm really dreading this. I know I could have cancelled but even if I did we'd likely have ended up doing something with someone else out of my control. Better the devil you know, eh?

Day 72 - sober carbon footprint

'Experts estimate that a 750ml bottle of wine at 190g CO2 per glass equates roughly to the carbon emissions released by a three-mile car journey.' So says the Guardian please remember other calculations are available, some equate it to a five mile car journey.

Here's when I get my fingers and toes out to work out 72 days sober average 1 bottle wine a night (conservative), equivalent to saving carbon 1984 miles or 82,080 g  or 82 kg CO2 

So I could have driven nearly 2000 miles instead of drink wine and be in the same place carbon wise but think of the adventures........

I've saved the equivalent green house gas emissions of 0.29 tonnes of landfill. Crikey

Or if I'd planted 21 wee trees I'd have saved the same amount of carbon in ten years.

So by NOT drinking I'm officially greener than when I started. I'm always keen to see interesting ways in which behaviour change effects things like carbon, cos, well, I'm weird like that. [I'm a secret scientist, which is a bit like secret santa, but not nearly so cool.]

So NOT drinking is helping me and our planet. Goes off to shine green tree huggers badge.

Hug yourself and a tree, being sober really does save the planet.

That's made me smile today. Then again I've always been a tree hugger.

PS Thank you for all your kind comments yesterday. For me this is a huge journey and sharing my feelings even the darker ones is essential for me to learn to move past the wine. Lucy recommended I looked to the serenity prayer and I did and I found comfort in it. So thank you all, without expression, I'd be drowning myself in an endless vat of despair called merlot.

My sober seven days

So the great excitement for this week has been reaching another milestone, 70 days, 10 whole weeks sober. I never thought that might happen. Never in my wildest dreams. Here's a peek at what I've found to be grateful for in my week leading to today.

The garden starts to slumber and as it does its brought to life after frosts and flurries of snow with robins, blue-tits, thrushes, blackbirds, starlings, sparrows and its so busy. I laden the bird table every morning and take time to watch them chatter and hop around. Garden ornaments long forgotten from summer begin to take on a new life, a dart of colour in the grey. They are beautiful and like this heart remind me of my son swinging under it in the hammock as I hung it. This makes me smile.

The days are shorter to precious time is spent walking the dogs on local beaches. Devoid of tourists at this time of year we have them, frequently all to ourselves. Icy winds steady our pace. Whilst returning home the chores await! 

Fires need stoked with logs and sticks, my job. Everyday this is a job I love, I don't know why but the gathering, chopping, drying and stacking of wood has always been my favourite. I fill the fires grateful we'll be warm and cosy later. All done before it gets dark.

Meanwhile the chickens watch on, hungry in the morning for their breakfasts, always so impatient. Rewards of eggs are few at this time of year but they add to the food to the table. I love their wee faces and chatter. These were rescue hens and now in full plumage I'm very grateful I took them in rather than the easier options around, they've been great companions and wonderful for me watching them slowly come back to health in our garden. 

Out feeding the hens gives me time to stroll around a bitterly cold garden, if I'd been indoors I'd have missed the last few roses on the bush, I picked them for my bedside. A reminder of summer and nicer days. I like the routine of the chickens needing fed it gets me out and appreciating the space around me. As does walking the dogs. It gives me fresh air and time to think, and this week, time to watch our local wee friend through the branches of the hedge now bare.

This wee fella lives but a minute from my door. I'm so lucky to live in the middle of the countryside where I can walk from my front door up to the woods, or down to the shore. A vocal wee chap he kept us company for part of our walk! Getting out everyday even for a swift walk has been good for my sobriety, fresh air and gentle exercise seem to help me hugely.

A bonnie sight! The village phone box, this always makes me smile, so old fashioned and yet, a life line in our village if needed, standing proud. And snuck in behind it a wee white cottage, all of our own. This week my son landed safely in New Zealand, without skype and the internet his distance would seem so far away, we talk or text most days, he feels close, I like that. Luckily for me, these methods of communication make us close and keep me smiling. So I'm grateful, SO grateful for this technology (and old fashioned phoneboxes) which can keep us in touch with those we love and for sober friends and forums, without which I'd feel so alone.

Everyday I have the companionship of my trusty hounds, chickens, partner and virtual sober friends. Friendship, for me, has always been hugely important. Being sober and being able to share this journey in less virtual isolation has been a real help to me. So I thank you for being out there sober rock stars all of you. I also have my SMART group on Wednesdays, helping me connect with others for a while, which is so helpful. I'm glad I found the courage to go. Really glad.

I leave gentle reminders of my sobriety and saying 'NO' to wine around my house. They make me smile and know they're a reminder for times when I feel weak.  A walk around the village today with my recycling today (we have communal recycling in our village), I spot the last flowers of summer hanging on in there. Like me, trying so hard to keep going, despite circumstances which sometimes challenge me!

Their beauty a reminder of taking time to stop and look at the smaller things in life and smile at their wonder. And, as for the trip to the recycling this week - ta da!

Its not often you'd catch me in broad daylight taking out the recycling in one hand, this weeks glass. One bottle of alcohol free wine, one soy sauce. This has been a busy week! No more sneaking out at night for late night 'drop off', in the dark so no one can see!! No more shame. No more secret drinks, no more bottles to hide. A quick drop off a the recycling whilst actually taking time to enjoy a wee stroll round the village. 

 Party last night. I offered to drive, for once he had a few beers, he's not a drinker really, seldom do I see him with a glass in his hand. But for once no moaning about who's driving, no middering and forcing him to drive. No drinking before the party, having a bottle for home after the party. No gulping down the drinks quickly as i can when I get there. No resentful silences in the car when we leave late but way before I want to. No pushing him off to bed when we're home so I can keep drinking when I'm back. No late nights on the sofa drinking alone, trying to sate myself even after a party.  Not last night. Last night I drove, he had a few beers, we left at just around 10pm, I happily drove us home, we chatted, so different to the old drinking ways.

And, finally today. Chores done, messages bought, a quick stomp on the beach with Mr Me before the light goes. 

'You seem happier' he tells me. 

I feel happier, I think to myself, yes I do.

'Thank you, do you know its around 10 weeks today since I had wine.' I smile.

'You're not missing the wine then?' He asks as he holds my hand.

'Nope, I feel so much better for staying off it for a while, my head's a bit less noisy!' I say with honesty.

'Suits you.' He beams.

[We kiss, enough said for now.]

And, for tonight, a mini-celebration with a mocktail. Well, why not. Its not every day you're 70 days sober. Mocktails all round I say.

So that's been my week, lots to be grateful for, lots to quietly celebrate. Thank you for being with me on this journey. Sobriety, feels right now, so special. I don't want to break it. I'm more scared of drinking right now than I am of not drinking. 

More hard work ahead I'm sure!

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 62 - Adventures and odd dreams

So my son left yesterday (he's still mid travel, I have one of those mother-inside-compasses telling me exactly where he is, to the second I have sort of fathomed it out.) as normal he's off to spend the holidays with his Dad. This is nothing new, and yet I always feel such a sense of loss when they both leave to their other family. And, whilst I can't really fly a plane, something in me needs to control his safety and his journey. Back off crazy lady, step away from the plane, I'm sure they'd say. Yes I have control issues.

The only real change to this is that they've recently emigrated to the other side of the planet. Its unsettling. Oh and they now both live out of the family home and are at university so I don't get the normal 'family time' very much either.

On the one hand, I'm all woo hoo adventure central. On the other hand I'm a bit freaked at the distance and the time they'll be away. But, this is normal, the geography has just changed, that's all. The kids have been travelling to see their father since they were pre-school. Its a bit sucky, but its life as we know it, Jim.

So in my head I see the photo above. A very capable young chap, off adventuring. He's not been out to see his father in New Zealand before, so its an exciting trip. Obviously I see adventure and I'm happy for him but I also see this. A young child, back pack on, letting him walk alone but there to help with any free fall stuff. 

And, let me tell you my son is 20 and quite independent, so I know I need to allow him space to breathe and make his own way. Doesn't stop the worry eh.

I think, well, I think I'm beginning to understand that these situations, kids going to their fathers for the holidays, whilst perfectly normal in our family, are a bit of a trigger for me. All the usual holidays they go. Its important that they have a good relationship with their other parent. Its the bits I can't control I think are an issue for me.And the loneliness, the sense that they're so far away. But lets face it who wants their mum on a flight holding their hand, so uncool for both of us! (I'm really not that bad). And, as for me rocking up at my ex-'s erm, I'd rather swim in shark infested custard. 

So I let go. But I'm aware that this is a trigger for me. My daughter joins him later this month. Then on this little island it will only be me and my (new)  hubby. Don't get me wrong, the kids are both at university, which is new too. Its all very change-tastic here. Life moves forward, positively on the whole. But, I'm not use to no kids at term time and no kids at holidays time. I've muted I'd like a change but its been met with severe resistance from my ex-husband, and as he books the flights, I'm screwed. So I need to think this through.

But, whether I lie or not, the holidays without the kids, has, always has and always will suck. I'm not resentful towards them for going, for their father being in their life, I'm very happy. But the whole full on single-parent thing and then full off parent thing, sucks. I know this is how it worked out. I know I'm am more than responsible for it. But, sucky-mcducky-with rocks is what it is. And, of course the kids don't know, I wave them off with a smile and lots of mothery-type annoying things like have you got your wallet. What an adventure it will be! Have so much fun!! Hope you have a blast!! Speak soon! Love you. Then I walk back into my own life. Which aside the single-parent separation rubbish, is a nice life.

I promise I did not try and tuck his shirt in at the airport, or smooth his hair or anything like that. Honest. Nor did I cry, its an adventure after all. We had a lovely coffee then we parted ways.

But, its stuff like this which sends me reeling into the chasms of darkness, looking for solace, so I have to be brave. No wine this holiday season. That's going to be a first. But, inside we know it only dulls the pain for a while.

Rather disconcertingly, I had a dream last night about buying wine, a lot of wine. 

I felt so guilty when I woke convinced I'd have to say to you all, I bought wine last night. As the dream noodled about my head, I realised whilst sleepily waking up that it wasn't drunk. First thoughts were crap, get it all poured down the sink, then confess all. Funny dream, the kids (in the dream) and I were constantly distracted by random stuff (like someone offering to sharpen my ski boots ????)  and the wine never got back to being drunk. 

I had a broken nights sleep, I woke several times. Yesterday was a long day of driving and helping my son pack up his house, (he's also moving, doesn't do things by half this one) although as always it was lovely to spend time with him. And, then to the airport, to wave him off on his flight, he's a confident young man but a bit of a nervous traveller. I know they'll have fun. I'm grateful they have a relationship with their Dad, I really am. I hate that I can't control what they do there either in a keep them safe and happy kinda way. I fret like a crazy woman when my kids are in someone else's care.

We've booked a holiday for late January, husband, son, friend and me. Daughter currently thinks holidays with the old's is so uncool.  Her loss! I'm really looking forward to it. We usually go away at Xmas, helps me to deal with the kids heading away, sad, but its one way I distract myself. This year, new house, we're staying home. Personally I think this is a mistake, but its circumstances. Next year, I'm hoping we'll plan something for the time the kids are away again.

Although I know I need to find my inner-happiness from myself, not just as a mum. I'm working on that. Hard though. 

I'm not liking the troubled sleep, the broken sleep and the washing machine head. I'm not liking dreams about buying wine, lots of wine or desperately wanting to drink it all and numb. But I know it will pass. Son will arrive safe I know he will and he'll have such an adventure. In the mean time, we keep calm and carry on.

PS I'm sorry this is a bit diary-ish but its what's in my head today. Somehow I saw this blog as light and funny and much shorter. Oh well maybe tomorrow! Right now I can only work on today. It's all I've got.

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 60 - domestic goddess, not.

Help yourself, we're celebrating new friends, life and love. Happiness.

So here I am in the messiest kitchen in the universe and I'm making brownies. I'm a dab hand at these, plenty experience from the time the kids were little and someone gave us the easiest recipe in the world and we've been whipping them up ever since. Sometimes for parties, sometimes for weekends, sometimes for weddings, sometimes just for those dark wet days when nothing quite hits the spot like the gooey dark rich chocolately monsters that are my friends perfect brownies. 

Now I'm thoughtful as I make these having just wrenched a fresh egg from under the chooks arse in the garden. Yes, we are on days like this a very messy domestic goddess, or at least from the outside world that's how we look. The lamb shanks are on the range bubbling away, rosemary, garlic and shallots all doing their thing in the very beautiful cast iron pot, the colour of aubergine (the pot not the shanks, well not yet anyway.).  Dogs are walked, hens are fed, laundry is folded. Kitchen still looks like a work in progress but hey, I'm an artist in here I tell myself.

So the brownies, I'm baking them today not for church, not for school, not for the kids, not for the rellies, I'm baking them for my recovery group. A way to celebrate quietly with other humans who know what its like to be clutched to the heart by behaviours that become so compelling that you just can't help yourself. So today I celebrate, and I am celebrating quietly in real life that I've not drunk any wine for 60 whole days.

Sixty Days no wine, and I am still able to breathe, who knew?

Why so quiet I hear you ask? Well, no one really knows what kind of a problem I had. No one knew, really, the extent of my drinking. No one knows I've stopped aside you lovely lot and one real life friend. One, and she's not taking it too well. But, lets hope she adjusts to this sober me. I hope so.

A while ago, possibly years, I knew that alcohol and I were not really friends. I drank more than I wanted. I embarrassed myself often, when one wee drink let to several, the paranoia the next morning was crippling, and yet I carried on. I've met friends for a quick drink and gone home rat-arsed on the train. For me the compulsion to drink until I feel quiet in my head, is overwhelming. I drink when I'm happy, I drink when I'm sad. I drink with friends, sure, but mostly I drink alone. Here at this kitchen table, I'd have a glass of wine at gone five, possibly six. No harm in that I hear you say. Well maybe if I left it at one drink, maybe no harm. Maybe if I didn't drink everyday, maybe no harm. But, for me one drink always leads to many more.  Hardly anyone knows except me, how much I drank. And, I don't exaggerate when I say a bottle of wine a night and some became more and more normal for me. Everyone does it I told myself. Everyone.

But, I'm finding out slowly but surely whilst my behaviour isn't abnormal, women of my age (46 3/4) can be prone to drinking after a busy day, stressful work, noisy but adorable kids, partner with spikey cactus pants on, lonely, overwhelmed, dealing with issues their poor brain just can't cope with.  Lots of people drink, some have issues like mine. I'm not alone. That was a surprise. Some people can drink a couple drinks and stop, I'm learning I can't. To the outside world, I appear normal, or slightly normal anyway. Domestic goddess (I think not), good mother, capable lady, happily married, just don't look right into my eyes, don't see the cracks in it all.

Living a 24/7  kind of life trying to be and do the best for everyone else, sometimes it seems, we get a bit lost. And, for a short while wine stops the chatter, dulls the problems, silences the issues we've hidden for so long. For a short while it works. But after a while, we need more and more. After a while, this 'mute button a the bottom of a bottle of Chardonnay' pushes back. It takes our sleep, it makes us anxious, raises our paranoia and leaves us feeling betrayed alone and yet the compulsion to drink more of it, is overwhelming.

And, so we try and stop. The wine bites back, we manage a day maybe two and then we find we've forgotten how hollow that 'mute' can be. We try again to drink, this time moderately. Quite frankly for me moderating is about as much use as a chocolate teapot. I just can't do it. Actually I'm now more frightened of moderating than I am of staying sober. Well at least for today. So for now, quietly from here, I hold out my chocolate brownie to you to say thank you for those who've supported me along this road so far.

So in my best Scottish accent (which isn't very good at all) I say to you all 'Mon, ben the hoose, come bide a while, sit doon, hay a sonsie wee seat, mon lets raise a wee cuppy to sixty days aff the fawing doon juice'.

[Come, through the house, stay a while, sit down, have a comfy seat. Come raise a cup of tea to sixty days off the wine'.

Thank you for the sober tools I've learnt from friends throughout the world, for a really unsavoury and yet calming introduction to Wolfie, that voice in my head that tells me I'm broken and useless and rubbish and if I have a glass of wine, I'll forget it all. Well isn't he a bag of shit. Who knew that wasn't really my best self looking after me? Thank you all for showing me, whilst its hard, there's more to life than escaping into a wine glass. Small steps but for today, we celebrate. With tea, obviously, not wine. Even if Wolfie tells us that celebrating being sober with a glass of wine is the right thing to do. Erm, no, he's wrong. Brownies all round I say. Thank you. I'm off to my meeting, brownies in hand, smiling at sixty days. I'm actually proud. 

Lamb shanks, garlic, rosemary, winter punch (not red wine) and veg. YUM it was too.

A wee quiet celebration tea later on, lamb shanks, my favourites. He'll ask what the occasion is, very decadent lamb shanks on a Wednesday. I'll just mumble, thought we could do with a treat, why not. He's noticed the reduction in my wine scoffing, but not the extent of the problem, still my secret.

Could I be you? Probably not, your kitchen is probably tidier, But I know right now, I'm no longer alone with that nagging voice in my head telling me that a glass of wine will solve everything. I'm learning it won't.

ETA Brownie recipe here. Thanks for asking.

The Hunger

It's still there like a sallow wolf, circling my existence. And, with it, the hunger. I'd hoped its clawing tones might leave my ears soon, but its still here. The hunger. I rest, nestled in the safety of the car, speeding through the dark autumnal night air. The trees becoming bare, stark whispers of winter's coming, whilst all around, in this darkness, the hunger surrounds me. 

Where can we buy it? 

When can we drink it? 

When will we be free to envelope ourselves in its liquid release?
Have some at the party? No? Have some ready for after........in private, as a prize for staying sober all night.

The hunger is still here, prickling in my mind, drizzling, cold, full of dread. I'm trying not to listen. But, its here.

And, no more so than this weekend, we're heading to a party, I'm unconfident, I'm out of my comfort zone. My thoughts are preoccupied with the selfish calls of my wine wolf. I'm not sure why. I'm within the safety of my husbands reach, aside the nip of the night air, I'm warm and yet it doesn't stop. This hunger, so seeping, it feels like its dragging my feet downwards into the mist. A few days have passed without the cruel call of this beast. Not tonight. Tonight, I feel its breath on my naked neck. I pull my scarf tighter.

We arrive at the party laden with food and drinks, kisses for the hosts, invited into their home. A little late, but no shame in that. Our plate put on the already laden table. I bring homemade sushi, keeping my fingers and my mind busy earlier. The atmosphere is warm and inviting. The tinkle of glasses, the long elegant stems of sparkling bubbles whisper my name. The wolf is near here, I settle myself at the furthest corner of his den. I find my own corner.

I eat well, I refill my plate and my glass myself. I'm mindful of the chatter around me and engage in conversations as the wolf circles round the room, then back to his layer. Our eyes meet. He's clever this one, but I'm ready. I keep my guard, recharge my glass myself. I eat some more. The hunger abates for a while.

He's clever this one, a malt whisky is let out of its cage. The honey coloured liquid dancing in the crystal glasses, the vapour sneaks around the room like a cheeky imp, smokey and heathery. An old friend, glinting in the half light. The wolf comes to me, calling my name he seeps from the glass, 'You're hungry' he whispers. I know. I'm busy. I need to escape.

I walk through to the kitchen, brandishing a cloth I polish the plates. Wiping each dripping plate until its clean and dry. Over and over, I ignore the wolf.  The laughter gets louder, the music thumping. Its a quarter to ten. Fifteen more minutes. until its safe. Finally time to go.

We leave early, hearty goodbyes, we leave the party in full throws. Wolfie in full voice. Tired we slip through misty streets, all the shops closed. The Wolf's work is done for the day out here. He's locked in houses throughout the lands, keeping his lair warm for those who don't know of his cruel ways.

I relax in the car. The wolf behind me, shops closed, nowhere left to buy wine on the way home. I patiently bide my time.  The hunger is still with me, sadly. This hunger for wine, for drinking, for booze is still here. Some days it shouts more than it should a fierce wolf. Some day's its quieter, more like a mouse. I don't miss hearing it, I hate its clawing calls, I just wish it would abate, for now.

So the hunger is still so fierce. I'm glad its not here howling, the whole time, but he's near and he's watching for me to be weak.

I pull my scarf tighter, I hold my husbands hand. I'm still sober. The hunger didn't get me tonight. I'm using skills learned from you all to feed myself, distract myself, distance myself, keep busy. Arrive late, and leave early. My first proper social gathering of friends, a house party. I still (stupidly) have this hunger for alcohol. I'm thankful of the skills I've newly learnt to sidestep the wolf and the hunger.

I awake today, reflective. I'm not paranoid, wondering how much I drank or what I said. I'm just reflective that after this short time, I'm able to hide from my wolf. My old familiar.

This is new. Its hard, but its new. 57 days, newly sober. I'm alive. And I'm watchful of the wolf I know circling around, watching from afar, waiting for me to stumble.

For your help, your strategies, your advice. 

I thank you. 

I'm grateful I'm not alone with him. 

Or with the hunger.

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 36 - The attack of the wine-snatchers

Firstly thanks so much for popping by, you really do make a difference, whilst I'm use to speaking to an empty room. Its always nice to know someone's around, reading. Even if you're thinking, just get on with it lady!

So part of this sober malarkey I'm learning seems to be that you do your own life, but just 'slightly' differently to keep yourself off the booze. So as part of this I've been having SO MANY sober baths. Like a billion. OK, maybe possibly around once a day I dive into the bath. Usually around wine-o-clock. The bath is a safe place for me, I never have understood drinking in the bath. I never have. Mind you I've never understood bathe-ing in the evenings, never, as it use to interfere with my wine time. Nothing interferes with wine-time.

Normally (and I'm reminding myself that 'sober' isn't normal for me) I hot foot it to the wine early evening and switch off the rest of my life. And, after that first glass, nothing can wrench my hand off the glass or my focus from the bottle, so my evenings never involved having a bath. Mostly, it didn't involved getting undressed either, as I slumped into the sofa and snoozed my life away every night. So I was always a 'shower in the morning' with a hangover kinda gal. I needed to be, I needed to mask the smell of wine I guess without a morning shower I might have reeked of Merlot. 

Anyway that was the old routine and this bathing in the evening thing, is the new SOBER routine. So each night off I pop with my scrubby, my favourite candle and I just relax. I wait out the wine-singing that overcomes my lugs. I fill them full of soap and I rest and I scrub. Let me tell you I'm like a shiny wee pin at the moment.  I don't think I've ever been so clean, or my hair so well looked after. I've long hair so a bath is also a 'barrier' to leaving the house and buying wine, I don't own a hairdryer. A soggy mop of hair in the dreich Scottish climate isn't fun to go out with, even for wine.

Now, let me tell you, I'll get back to the point, I'm naturally chubby, I'm a wee thing too. But, when did the wine-snatchers come along and steal my body? Even in flickery-romantic-ambient candle light glow of my sober bath, there's no denying I'm a paunchy wee thing now. I look, if I'm honest 4-5 months pregnant. I took a test, I'm not. No amount of sucking my stomach in helped. The scales revealed an extra 2 stone from my 'normal' weight. They say you put on weight when you get older, but this is belly-booze-fat my middle has expanded. And some. I'm almost as wide as I am tall now. Like, really. I fear for doorways.

My bottom lip (on my face, not the lip of my ever increasing arse) started to wobble. I'm' crying a lot at the moment, I'm getting use to that. But, when did I stop caring about me? At what point did I sit on that sofa drinking wine, stuffing snacks in to prepare for the next glassful, when did I just say 'Fuck it, I don't care'.  When did I let the wine-snatchers take so much from my daily life, and give me back a sore head and oodles of belly flubber?

I hate the wine-snatchers, they stole my money, my time and I've finally notice, my body and left me with a booze-belly for good measure. I'm a natural 'apple' shape, right now I look like an overstuffed baked apple, bursting out the sides. My BMI is 26.8, last year is was 23.7 the year before less than that. I'm slowly expanding. I'd heard that wine puts the beef on, but man, its quick. Or maybe it just seems quick as I drank my days away.

I guess, changing the routine has helped to open my eyes, as well as keeping me off the booze. I'm grateful for that and all the folks who suggested I shook things up.

Fear not dear hearts, I'm not about to start a crash diet and put myself under any more stress than I can handle at the moment. I'm taking each day as I can, I know its all I can do. But, I think its about time I started to look after myself a bit better. Somewhere down the bottle I lost sight of myself and let the wine-snatchers take so much more than just my time and money. As long as I didn't stink of booze in the mornings at work I never use to care. I never cared about me, never really have for as long as I can remember.

If I learn anything about being sober, its that I need to take care of me. That's my job.

That one came as a bit of a shock. As did the calories in wine (600-750 a bottle)  and beer. Yikes.

I need to take care of me. I need to remember that. Only my sober head hears that. The wine-snatchers can bugger off, I need my body back.

And, for today my sober day....

Sober girl - long walk with the dogs on the beach, no hangover. I designed my garden today.
Sober wife - we had a 'date' on Friday night. We went to the cinema, no pouting from me for my routine being disrupted. Food after, no wine, no need for it. Nice.
Sober mum - proof read an assessment for the man-child and arranged to drop daughters car off. I'm engaged.

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.