Contemplating milestones

Hi all. I’m still here and still sober. I’ve really been neglecting this blog but it’s mainly for the best of reasons with a light sprinkling of laziness and procrastination thrown in. I’ve recently been feeling pretty inspired and have been busy working on creative projects. I have the kind of clarity of mind and the ability to focus that has been missing for a long, long time due to my drinking. I don’t plan to waste it. I’m also busy at work, it’s silly season in retail, meh!

Now I am starting to see my one year date on the horizon. I’m not taking anything for granted but I’m also not fearful that I won’t make it. I remember when lasting three days was a struggle and when thirty seemed impossible. Now I’m feeling very fortunate that I’ve done more than ten (and a half) of those in a row.

Looking through some old notebooks I found notes making plans to do a ‘YOLS’. I’d forgotten about that. It was my discreet acronym for a year of living sober. I’m not sure when it was from but I think it may even predate this blog. I’ve evidently been thinking about this for such a long time and now, finally, I find myself contemplating this significant milestone.

I’ve previously tried to imagine this point many times. As with so many of our fears or expectations, most of what I imagined doesn’t match the reality.

I imagined that the decision whether or not to drink again at this stage would be one still based on struggle and fear. Maybe I’d want to try drinking again but I’d be too scared of it all escalating again? I thought I’d be torn – do I? Don’t I? Instead I find myself ready to renew my sober vow to myself out of excitement, curiosity and determination. Not what I was expecting but, I’ll take it!

I visualise this as being like hiking up a big mountain, it’s probably the best way to express how I’m feeling. The beginning of the hike was dreadful. Every step took a huge amount of effort. I had no idea how I was going to keep going. Everything hurt, I was unfit and ill-prepared. The summit looked a million miles away. As the days, weeks and months passed I got fitter, stronger and more experienced and the steps forward became progressively easier. It’s not all been plain sailing (or hiking). At times I felt exhausted and demotivated and wanted to just give up and slide back down the mountain. Many times I wondered if it was all really necessary or worth it. At other times I felt all pink cloudy and fired up, confidently striding onwards and upwards. It’s definitely been a mixed year.

Now, the one year summit is in sight. I’m feeling fit and strong and the final few weeks of the hike don’t intimidate me. I know there are always opportunities to slip or fall but I keep my eyes carefully on the path ahead. The idea of drinking again when I finally reach the summit now seems as crazy as doing a real hike up a mountain and then not bothering to stop and admire the view. Why on earth would I waste all that effort?

I have thought that making it to one year would somehow be the end of the process but now I suspect it’s actually going to be a new beginning. Now I’ve got to the stage where I’m spending very little mental energy on not drinking it’s all been freed up to do other stuff that I couldn’t focus on before. I’m not big on new years’ resolutions, never have been, but I’ve vowed that 2018 is the year I’m finally going to make my creative stuff pay. The quality and consistency of my work has definitely increased in the last few months.

I can feel a return of the positivity and determination that I had when I was younger. That feeling that even though stuff might be hard, I can DO shit. Also that feeling that I CAN, and WILL, find a way to make things happen, even if the HOW is not immediately obvious. There are also more frequent moments of peace and contentment, sometimes in the strangest contexts – just bog-standard ordinary moments rather than overtly ‘good’ times. I find gratitude comes easier these days and I’ve definitely noticed a general swing towards a more positive mental attitude.

I still find dealing with life and the world difficult at times. I have sensitive introvert tendencies and events often feel way too ‘in my face’ but I find that in my new clarity I can usually summon that little ounce of extra courage to get out there and attempt things in spite of my anxiety. And if something does go wrong or my mood drops then it’s easier to move through it and learn my lessons if I actually feel the difficult feelings rather than hide away from them behind the drinking.

So, next month I will be waving goodbye to my first year of sobriety and welcoming the beginning of year two with a little bit of trepidation but mostly with anticipation. I’m not sure where it will take me yet but I am sure it has to be better than where a return to drinking would lead. I still don’t say I have quit forever, it’s more a foreseeable future kind of thing. This feels too strong, too real and too hopeful to imagine wanting to let that false friend back into my life any time soon though…

I hope folks are coping well with the Christmas / holidays party onslaught. One of the good things about being an introverted hermit and working a lot over this season is that I don’t really have to deal with all that. A quiet meal with friends is hopefully as hectic as it gets for me. New years eve will be spent at work this year which I’m fine with. I’ve always found it an over-priced, over-rated and over-hyped excuse for a drunken shit-show – not that I’ve needed much excuse in the past as you all know.

Sending you all some extra sober strength to deal with the seasonal chaos and I hope you have a lovely weekend 🙂 x

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Day 230

I’m doing some long overdue painting in the house at the moment and it’s made me realise how much I’ve changed since the last time I did any around five years ago. I’m a lot fitter and stronger than before. I moved furniture, did preparation stuff, then painted a ceiling and the first coat on all four walls all in one long session. I’m also sober which was odd yesterday because I’ve always strongly equated DIY work (which I don’t particularly enjoy) with earning copious amounts of wine ‘rewards’.

Previously I would have done a few hours and then had the first glass of wine, telling myself I’d carry on working. Once the wine started to take effect I’d at least have the sense to realise I shouldn’t be climbing ladders and handling open paint cans so I’d abandon the job. I’d have sat amidst my part-finished paint job and got sloshed, telling myself I’d ‘earned’ it, that I ‘deserved’ it. This time I got into my PJs and ate the takeaway my partner bought, sat and digested whilst admiring the results for a bit and then went to bed for some much needed sleep. The bliss of crashing into bed thoroughly knackered and feeling satisfied by the day’s achievements was far sweeter than the wine could ever have been. I’m awake again before it’s light, free from a hangover and ready to carry on transforming my nest. Yeah! I’m turning into a person that gets shit done.

I’ve been remarkably free from any cravings for a few weeks now. Even the DIY association yesterday didn’t produce any cravings as such. There was a low background rumble of some sort in my consciousness. The connection had definitely stirred but it felt distant and disconnected and it didn’t form into any recognisable drinking thinking. Instead I just acknowledged it and it seeped away harmlessly, like a fart into the wind.

I’m doing a lot of reading on the subject of addiction at the moment. In the early stages I read a lot of drinking memoirs which gave me those ‘me too!’ moments and helped me to recognise that my own drinking had gone awry. Now I’m feeling more acceptance and stability in my sobriety my attention is turning to wanting to understand more about it. There are so many different models, arguments and theories surrounding addiction. I’m genuinely open and interested in all ideas and much of what I read contradicts what I’ve previously read. Disease, not disease, choice, self-medication, learning disorder, 12-step, not 12-step, neuroscience, neuropsychology, psychology etc. I can’t get enough of the learning. The concepts are slowly taking shape in my mind but I can think of a number of books that warrant a second or even third reading. I feel like my brain is waking up again.

I haven’t been online much in the last few days, I’ll sit down and catch up with blog reading over the weekend (I’m off work yay!) I guess for now I’d better put my painting pants back on and get on with it. Big hugs to anybody who’s struggling in the early days. I know how you’re feeling, keep hanging in there. At one stage I NEVER could have imagined approaching eight months but here I am. If (after what seemed like a million restarts) I can do it then you can do it too x Have a great weekend everybody 🙂

 

 

 

Day 208

I was going to post to mark passing 200 days but didn’t end up getting round to it. I have to rely on my counting app now to know how many days I have, the number has become far less a focus of my consciousness. The whole not drinking thing has become something I think about far less too. That’s probably why I’m not online or posting as much at the moment.

I’m having a strange time with a lot of anger surfacing. I think I’ve always been pretty angry with the world. From the first realisations of my misfit status whilst my age was still in single digits to the plethora of injustices, imbalances and general mess that we currently live in and call society. A lot seems to be driving (and inconsiderate parking) related. I was listening to a Tim Ferriss podcast and got a crazy rush of anger as he described being nearly drowned by a childhood bully holding him underwater. I see crisp packets and coke bottles strewn around in beautiful woodland and fume about the ignorance of it all. These are just a tiny few examples.

So, I’m pretty sure that anger was one of the things I was drinking to ignore. Now I’m not drinking and now I’ve got past the early months of laser-like focus on avoiding drinking, the stuff I’ve avoided for so long is definitely queuing up to say hello.

I can count on half a hand how many times I’ve had aggravated verbal confrontations with somebody in my life. I’m very confrontation avoidant and generally hate it. I have now had two in the previous two weeks, both at work.

During the first one I was very in control. I didn’t swear or say anything unjustifiable. I had injured my hand the previous night after doing at least two extra hours of work than my contract requires. I was told what my tasks were for the current night and worked out that it was at least an hour more than the actual working time I had, yet again – even though I had pointed out I was injured. There are some people that constantly get away with doing less than their contract requires and instead of managing those people and kicking their butts or changing them for people that are prepared to work, the shortfall just gets piled onto people that they know will shut up and get on with it. I know this is a common complaint in workplaces and it’s not just me. I put my foot down and spoke out against it that night. I don’t know what came over me, I had just had enough and I let them know in no uncertain terms. I think I was more surprised than they were.

It actually turned out fine. I was told I made some fair points and that there were plans to change things in the near future. Hmm, I won’t be holding my breath. It was a surprising response though. Even as I was speaking my mind I was also thinking, ‘Oh shit! What am I doing?!’ It’s the first time in four years I’ve done anything like that whilst some colleagues bitch and moan their way through each and every shift. I was basically taken aside and told that I was well-respected and had earned the right to make those points by having a consistently laid-back but hard-working attitude. Phew!

The second outburst wasn’t quite as in control and well-phrased. We have a guy that comes in early morning to pick up stock that we drop on the floor when it has been delivered but there’s no space for it on the shelf. He snides and snarks his way along, constantly moaning about the night shift, life, the universe and anything else he can think of. He’s also not made the connection in his mind that whoever is in the aisle in the morning is also the person that did the work and therefore he’s bitching about them, to them. Normally I just let it go in through one ear, out the other.

The other morning he’d decided he was going to ‘make an example for the senior management team’ of my one mistake among the probably 6-7 HUNDRED boxes I’d handled that night. I’d mistaken one product for another and dropped it when it would have fit on the shelf. It’s so easy to do when you’re tired and rushing. I lost it. My rant began with… ‘Have you got any idea how much fucking work I handled last night?’ Oops! I went on to point out that taking my one genuine mistake and dropping me in the shit and backstabbing about it was petty and wasn’t exactly making for a good workplace. It’s only a week ago there was a bellowing argument across a meeting I was in. My job is beginning to look like some sort of Machiavellian soap opera at the moment. Jeez!! I did end up taking a deep breath and apologising for the manner in which I spoke (but not the content) and that I hadn’t set out to be intentionally rude.

It’s given me a lot to think about though. I felt pretty good after the first example. I would need to borrow a few hands to count how many times in my life I should have stood up for myself but didn’t (and drank away the resulting regrets and resentments). Sometimes things do need to be said, even though it’s scary to do it. I felt pretty shitty after the second example. The adrenaline wouldn’t dissipate and even though I tried to smooth it over at the end he may still make a complaint about me. I was also unhappy about how out of control it felt. I ended up using EFT to dial down the discomfort when I got home.

Handling anger is evidently something I need to work on and was probably an aspect of my development that got stunted by my early drinking to hide from it. I need to get a balance between standing up and constructively saying what needs to be said without becoming a reactive, unleashed rabid loon barking in everybody’s face. I’m going to be more mindful around my reactions at work in the coming weeks. I’ll take a deep, long breath before I react to anything. I don’t want to make these things a regular occurrence.

I’ve been trying to reframe incidents that make me angry and look beyond the immediate event to the probable underlying causes. Instead of getting angry at the other person I’ve been attempting to separate the behaviour from the person. I’ve been wishing people a peaceful resolution to whatever anger or fear is causing them to act out in dangerous, inconsiderate or antisocial ways. I’m also trying to remember that some things are out of my control and to get angry about those things is like drinking poison and hoping somebody else is going to feel it. It’s hard, really hard to do but it’s got to be better in the long run than mumbling and grumbling into a glass (bottle) of red.

I hope you’re all having a good, sober and calm week x

 

 

 

A challenging week

I still have the feeling that I’m experiencing life as if through an amplifier turned up to 11. What is strange is that I think it’s starting to become normalised. Humans do have an uncanny ability to normalise the most remarkable things which is both good and bad. On the negative side we can convert excessive drinking (and the resulting suffering) into our social normal. On a more positive note we can also begin to normalise our experiences of living sober. It doesn’t just apply to substance abuse problems either. When I look back at what I managed to normalise during various jobs, living arrangements and relationships I can’t believe I ever tolerated some of it. I’m sure most of you also have those sorts of memories that you look back on in disbelief with a small shake of your head. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I find it comforting to know that no matter how scared and avoidant of change we are when it does inevitably happen we have far more capacity to adapt and roll with it than many of us give ourselves credit for.

It’s been a strange week in my world. I went to my Auntie’s funeral on Wednesday. I wasn’t close to her, having only seen her maybe twice in the last two decades but I was sad for my uncle and that side of the family. I saw one cousin who I hadn’t seen for probably three decades and probably won’t for the next three, or the next funeral maybe. Another cousin was pleasant and polite but there is no connection whatsoever. The third cousin is the only one I really like and it was nice to see him, the last time being at my mum’s funeral over a decade ago. It made me a bit sad about the distance between us all. As you can tell, we’re not a close family, never have been really. I’ve always really envied warm and close families that love spending time together.

Spending time with family in this way has often been a huge trigger making me want to douse down the awkwardness, sadness and confusion that it brings. As that is not an option now I was left to see and feel it all rather than get that squirrelly, squirmy feeling of ‘OMG! Let me out!! Let the drinking begin…’ In a way this is the easier option. Instead of running in psychological circles until the discomfort headlights well and truly stop me in my tracks I was observing the situation for what it was, right from the beginning.

I also realised this week that my thinking when facing difficult situations has become brutally pragmatic in some ways. I don’t know if I was always like this or if this is a new development within sobriety. When we filed into the chapel for the funeral I couldn’t help wondering about what my dad was thinking. He’s in his 80s now and has openly talked with me about his uncertainty about how many years he has left. His funeral will take place in the same chapel when the time comes. That must have been an odd thought for him. I didn’t say anything though, some things are best left unsaid.

I also realised that sayings such as ‘blood is thicker than water’ are a load of balls. Just because I may have more DNA in common with one person than another it doesn’t mean there will automatically be any sort of bond. I think it’s up to us to choose the people we consider to be our family, or maybe tribe is a more appropriate word? I envy people that can honestly say their family is their true family, that seems like a beautiful thing looking in from the outside. I am also realising that it’s not a disaster or a failure on my part that my family doesn’t work like that. I’m respectfully detaching from the sadness and guilt this has caused me over the years. There’s no way I would have found that perspective with the wine countdown echoing through my skull or once the numbness sloshed its way through my veins.

The funeral was packed and we ended up having to stand at the back of the chapel. My auntie was a retired teacher and was always active socially in the local community. From overheard conversations I realised that some of the mourners were her former pupils. I can’t imagine making that much of a contribution and impression on life that so many people would turn up to my funeral. I realised that if I died I doubt my mourners wouldn’t even fill the front pews. This was also food for many challenging thoughts as you can probably imagine. I think my perspective on mourners for my death will be consistent with my thoughts on friends and ‘family’ during my life – quality not quantity.

Reading this back it does seem like a fairly dark post on the surface but it doesn’t feel that way. Some of these realisations have provided a sort of relief and freedom. What could have been a situation that weighed me down ended up providing an unexpectedly light and positive shift in my perspective. Seeing true reality rather than a distorted and numbed version of it is infinitely better, even though it can be tough in the moment.

Wishing you all a good ending to your week. Best wishes and hugs x

6 months and a week

I was going to post last week to mark 6 months but things ended up getting hectic for various reasons and I didn’t get round to it. Better late than never though.

I was wondering if things would shift and feel different at this landmark and they have, but unfortunately I can’t say it’s all in a good way. At this point my mind is not as focused on not drinking to the exclusion of other thoughts. In a way this is good; I’m feeling more secure in my sobriety and less of my mental energy is required to sustain it. The bad side is that this energy is now freed up to focus on other stuff and the other stuff is often the stuff I was drinking to avoid thinking about in the first place. Damn!

I’m at a stage in my life where I’m beginning to feel comfortable in my skin and in the way I am. I spend many happy hours chilling out at home with my creative work, reading, sofa cuddling with my cat and/or fella and various other simple, sober pursuits. My inner and home landscapes are becoming generally calm. Where it goes wrong is when I leave my solitude and sanctuary and step out the front door.

I’ve always felt like I somehow landed on the wrong planet. Other than the occasional blessed weirdos that I’ve been honoured to find as friends I find little to relate to in what most people (and society in general) seem to consider normal, admirable or fun. And is it me or do so many people seem angry and cranky when they’re out and about? Maybe I’m focusing on the wrong things and tending to see the negative stuff. I know that a bias toward paying attention to threatening or aggressive events is a deeply ingrained survival instinct but it really got to me yesterday.

I got up in the early hours and spent a few hours reading on the sofa with the cat. Then I headed out to the country park for a walk and some berry foraging. This was all pleasant and good. On the way home I went to do some grocery shopping and things went downhill.

On my way into the shop car park I would usually go straight ahead but I noticed that area looked particularly busy and there were some spaces to the left so as a last split-second decision I turned left instead. It was so quick a decision I didn’t have chance to indicate which I admit was my bad. People not indicating is a real peeve for me and I’ve quietly cursed people often enough for not doing it. The one extremely rare time I don’t do it there is of course somebody there that felt the need to bellow abuse at me through our open windows. I guess that’s some sort of annoying karma in action.

I tried to shake that off, did my shopping and headed home. On the way I had a near miss on a roundabout which would have been an action replay of my recent crash. Somebody cut me up trying to overtake from the wrong lane. Luckily (?) it was a real lad-racer type who accelerated so fast he got past in time but I was so fucking pissed off and shaken up. I couldn’t wait to just get home, close the front door of my sanctuary and shut out the world for the rest of the day.

A hand-delivered information sheet from the local police was waiting for me at home. There have been a spate of local burglaries and I was informed that my home is considered at heightened risk of being broken into. FFS! Talk about bad timing 😦 The whole sequence of events just left me feeling a bit raw, overly sensitive, exposed and psychologically slapped around. Without the option to do the crap ‘too drunk to care’ thing I’m feeling some low-level but nagging anxiety creeping in at the moment. I’m breathing and watching, and eating too many doughnuts… it’ll pass.

It wasn’t all bad. I had a pleasant chat about blackberry locations with a man waiting for his sweet granddaughter who felt the need to pick up every stray branch she passed. There were friendly smiles and hellos from other walkers (and their dogs). There was sunshine and refreshing breezes. There were abundant blackberries and elderberries to pick. There was the meditative task of stripping elderberries from the branches while sitting in the garden. I know there is a lot of good in the world too, it’s just sometimes hard to notice the quieter whisper amid the noise, stress and chaos.

So, my 6 months post turned out not to be overly celebratory but I guess it’s just where I’m at for the moment. Wishing everybody a lovely sober and un-stressful weekend whatever you get up to x

Approaching six months

I’m still doing ok here as I approach the six months mark although I had the most intense craving I’ve had for a while pop up last week after a stressful visit to the vet. My usually mellow cat turns into a yowling four-legged freak-out on vet day so it’s hard work. While we were in the waiting room a tiny, cute puppy went in to have a microchip fitted and its screeching yelps of pain could probably have been heard from the car park. The poor thing was shaking like a leaf when it came out. Distressed animals stress me out too. In the car on the way home I said to my partner, ‘I could really handle a glass (bottle) of wine right now.’ He looked shocked and told me not to say that. I wasn’t going to do it, I knew that, but it’s obviously still an association I haven’t broken.

I’ve been thinking a lot about work matters recently. I’m still experimenting with my commercially-aimed illustration work but I’m beginning to suspect that making a success of that still won’t provide enough meaning, purpose and fulfilment in the long term. Earning an income that way would of course be an improvement on my current job. I could work from home, do fun, creative stuff, not commute, not have to be polite to customers who are being assholes etc. It’s still a goal but I also have some other ideas about what that could be combined with in the future…

I’ve been considering training as a counsellor for a while now. I keep looking at the courses, pondering and then filing it away in the back of my mind. It’s a long process which would take a few years and a few thousand pounds but I’m fortunate that I could afford to pay for it slowly over that time. It’s general counsellor training but there would be an option to specialise in addiction counselling later on. Maybe if that were combined with qualifications in mindfulness-based stress reduction, CBT and other such things I could become somebody who helps people to find their way out of addiction? It’s an exciting thought, scary too. I can see meaning and purpose down that route but I don’t know if I’m the right person to be doing it.

A few weeks ago I wrote that poem called ‘Why not today?’ Maybe it’s time to stop putting this on the back burner? I’m going to fill in the college application form this week and get the process started. The course doesn’t start until January 2018 when I will hopefully be hitting one year sober. I love the thought of studying again too. I loved my student days the first time round and I loved the atmosphere back when I did some tertiary college lecturing too. Yayy!! It’s exciting 🙂

I worked last night so now I’m nicely tired and ready for bed soon. Sober hugs and strength to all 🙂 x

140 days – mixed times

It’s been a fairly mixed couple of weeks since I last posted. My health scare turned out ok – not entirely good, but nothing too serious. There’s nothing like it for getting your healthy motivation on though. I ate really well and did anything else I could think of to be good to my body. Since getting my test results that has slacked off somewhat. Isn’t that so often the way it goes?

I did have a week off coffee and sugar and felt a lot better for it. I’m plagued by the daily dragging fatigue that Hashimoto’s brings. Without these two things in my diet the fatigue definitely eases a bit and becomes less hard-edged. You know the classic scene in a zombie movie where the new zombie sits up in its grave, jaw dropping and looking oddly surprised that it’s upright and alive? That should give you a good impression of what I usually feel like waking up. During that week I actually felt something close to a normal (?) sort of waking up sleepiness. The coffee and sweeties have both crept back in but the experiment has given me something to think about.

I also hit another happy milestone since my last post – I lost a stone (14lbs/6.35kg). Not in two weeks obviously but it’s been creeping off slowly over the last few months – and creeping back on, and off again and round in a few circles, as it does. My super healthy living around my health scare seems to have kick started it again. A couple of pounds have crept back on but I’m still in a much better place than I have been for years. I feel sluggish and rubbish after eating lots of junk for the last 3 days, it’s time to eat clean again and feel better. I don’t want to backslide all the way back up the scale again, or feel like an overfed sugar-crashing slug.

Being sober is becoming normalised now and something I’m not thinking about so much. My thinking about not drinking has lessened and doesn’t take up such a large percentage of my days now. Some days I don’t even think about it at all. Many days I’m not sure what my day count is. I have had a few moments where I can clearly identify what I would previously have called a craving and set off down the path of drinking thoughts. Now I realise that I’m feeling a bit ‘off’ somehow – bored, restless, anxious, unfocussed, cranky, fearful etc but my brain is becoming less likely to skip straight to the ‘DRINK!’ to make it ok phase and instead stays longer with the uncomfortable feelings. This means I’m feeling a fair bit of discomfort at the moment but I wouldn’t swap it for where I started from.

I miss my pink cloud days but I do appreciate that what I’m feeling is real. Life feels dull, ploddy, scattered and uninspired at times but I can accept that because that’s just the way life works, and I know that at other times it can also feel wonderful.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend x

 

123 days

I was tempted to use the title, as easy as 123 but as you know, it hasn’t always been easy to get to this point. It’s 4 months! It sounds odd to say it, slightly surreal but also very, very real.

I’m feeling fortunate that at the moment it’s taking zero willpower to not drink. I just don’t want to. When I think about a large glass (bottle) of red I get a strange cognitive disconnect. When I imagine smoking a cigarette after 16 years it just seems absurd and unrealistic. I can feel a similar attitude developing in connection with alcohol but it’s still vague and a far weaker internal reaction. Hopefully this will get stronger over time.

Some niggly health issues have escalated, prompting me to get my butt off to my doctor. I’ve had some blood tests and am waiting for the results and a hospital appointment for a scan. My gut feeling is that it’s not a worst case scenario, but there’s always that horrible ‘What if?’ fear lurking deep down. The waiting is the worst part. It’s good meditation fodder along the lines of ‘This is happening, it’s my reality, it’s pointless trying to hide, run away, numb out etc’.

I’m currently about 22 hours into a water fast and feeling fairly good. It’s purely for healing and spiritual reasons and nothing to do with weight loss. It’s something I turn to when I am having health issues or feel like I need to hit the reset button. Previously my longest fast was 5 days when I was having pretty bad skin and gut problems. It helped those but didn’t do my thyroid any favours so I stick to 3 days or less now. I’m aiming for 48 hours but will adjust either way depending on how I feel. Strangely, it has coincided with ramadan and I remember doing some fasting this time last year too. Ironically my muslim-raised partner is not.

I also need to say, if you have any struggles with an eating disorder or think of it as a weight-loss plan, please don’t go there – it’s not a one size fits all kind of thing.

Fasting has long been considered a natural healing practice. Animals do it instinctively, humans tend not to. Huge amounts of our energy is used up digesting our food and processing anything undesirable which realistically includes a lot of the ingredients (and chemicals) in our modern processed foods. It takes a fair few hours without food to ramp up our natural process of autophagy allowing the body to focus more exclusively on its healing and eliminating/detoxing processes.

When I think about the logic of fasting I have a mental image of a factory. Imagine the production lines constantly running, the workers are all focussed there and completely ignore the building that houses them. Over time, the building gets dirty and falls into disrepair because nobody has done any cleaning or maintenance. Fasting seems like stopping the production lines to allow all the workers to spend a couple of days doing this essential work.

It’s going to be a quiet couple of days which I’m really happy about. I’ll do lots of reading, meditation, thinking, drawing, some very gentle yoga – all the peaceful and relaxing stuff. Despite the ups and downs, uncertainties and pain, I’m feeling pretty grateful and focussed at the moment. Last week was scattered and grumpy, next week… who knows, but I’m confident it’ll be a sober one ;D

Wishing you all a good sober week x

 

Day 111 – a new record

As of yesterday I entered the new unexplored territory of my longest sober stretch. I drank on day 110 of my previous attempt.

I feel very different this time. Although I’m feeling unmotivated, unfocussed and unproductive in general at the moment my commitment to staying sober is one of the few things that feels fairly simple and stable. I’m amazed to find myself thinking of sobriety as an anchor whilst everything else is floating and chaotic. I was NOT expecting that but I’m not complaining.

I’m quite fascinated by the concept of decision fatigue. The idea that we only have the capacity for a certain amount of decisions each day makes sense to me. My capacity for decisions seems to have hit the floor. One moment I’m thinking ‘Maybe I’ll write something?’ but I can’t pin down a topic or wrestle my rambling thoughts into any sort of order. Next moment I’m thinking ‘Maybe I’ll do some art?’ but I can’t decide which project to work on. Same with reading, cooking, housework, to-do list and well, pretty much everything at the moment. Then I’m getting frustrated that I’m not really achieving anything with my days which starts off a whole cycle of thoughts about what I’m hoping to achieve in life. I don’t want to stack shelves forever but I don’t seem to be making any progress toward any of my other plans. Meh! At least I’m not wasting my days being hung over or poisoning myself.

Today I’m thinking of doing a mood board. I did plenty of those as a graphic designer but I’ve never done one for personal reasons. Apparently our subconscious can be more readily influenced by images that any amount of talking to ourselves (which I do quite often). I could tell myself that I wish to stay fit and healthy enough to enjoy the outdoors or I could find a picture of a mature lady looking perky mid-hike in a glorious landscape. I could tell myself all about the many benefits of decluttering or I could find a pleasing image of a clean and simple interior. I could ponder how much I want to improve my photography or I could find some stunningly inspirational images to whet my appetite. You get the general idea. I’m frustratingly scattered at the moment but I think I can handle pootling around online looking for nice pictures.

Have a good weekend you lovely sober folks 🙂 x

Day 103

I’m on 103 days now which is one week away from my longest ever adult sober period. Although the last couple of weeks post-crash haven’t been easy they been a valuable learning experience. Time has applied its miraculous balm, giving me the peace and perspective to reflect clearly on recent events.

I’m beginning to see deeper nuances within my definition of sobriety. I’m visualising them as a series of threads, each one representing one of the myths I have used as an excuse to drink. Some of these threads are becoming increasingly frayed or have already been broken in my mind. Some of them still need attacking with a sharp mental knife.

For example, the fact that I had no desire to drink after my crash is a promising sign that I’m seeing through the myth of alcohol as a way of coping with a traumatic experience. Unfortunately the thread that pulls me toward a drink when I sit out in the sun is definitely still stronger. I’m sure if you’re reading this you can think of a list of your own threads. Maybe the one that craves wine to round out a good meal? How about the one that says you need a drink to relax at the end of a long day at work? I’m hoping that as the various threads break, the bigger tapestry of alcohol craving will begin to unravel. We’ll see…

I recently had a strange alcohol-related experience during a meal with some friends. Out of the four of us at our table only one person ordered alcohol. Two were driving, one was me so that just left my friend who had a beer with his curry. There was a special offer in the restaurant that night and plenty of people were there to eat and get drunk on the cheap. Booze was definitely flowing at many of the other tables. At the end of our meal a waiter suddenly appeared with unsolicited alcohol. His tray held two shots of Baileys (for the ladies) and two shots of brandy (for the guys). I just shook my head and held my hands up to signal a firm but polite ‘NO!’ but he did put the other three drinks on the table. Only one and a bit of the drinks ended up getting drunk.

How inappropriate was that?! WTF! I’m just glad it wasn’t a glass of red coming at me. We went for a stroll after dinner and I brought it up for discussion. Everybody agreed that it was a major error in judgement from what is otherwise a lovely place to eat.

I managed to get back out into the woods today. I didn’t make it last week and I really missed it. It’s definitely become a much-needed part of my sober toolbox. The trees are out in blossom at the moment and the sweet, woody smell is divine. I did a fairly long walk and came home feeling good.

My car admin is still in progress. I have received a surprisingly fair insurance valuation so I’m just waiting for the payment to process so I can get my new(er) car next week. I can’t wait. I’m currently in a hire car which I’m not keen on. I don’t like having responsibility for an expensive car that isn’t mine. I have that niggling feeling that if somebody even farts near it there’ll be some sort of surcharge involved. It’s also bugging my sciatica which isn’t good.

I hope you lovely folks are having a good sober week. Hugs and sober vibes to anybody who’s struggling at the moment x