I thought it was time I updated my Ocsober blog. There's not been a lot happening, drink-wise, or even Ocsober-wise, for that matter. After the first (difficult) few days, I've sort of gone into a bit of a holding pattern as far as the booze is concerned. Sure, I think about it now and then, but it's fairly fleeting. All good, all easy, phew... I'm not an alcoholic, because nobody who was one could give up the drink entirely, as easily as this. Double phew.
I was talking to a girlfriend about this yesterday. She seemed surprised when I said I'd found the first few days difficult, and was quick to point out that it meant I had a problem. My reply was of course I had a problem. Because if it wasn't, then it would be no harder than giving up orange juice for a month. She also seemed a bit taken aback that I admitted this so readily; I guess drinkers are the masters of denial, and here I was conceding to her, no argument at all, that I likely had a drinking problem.
Then I have other friends who tell me I have no drinking problem at all. "But you hardly ever drink!" "But you only drink on the weekends." "YOU don't have a drinking problem." "You don't drink much at all" etc etc. I ask compared to who, or what?
From Lucy Rocca's blog on Becoming Teetotal:
You will no doubt have endured the pain of numerous "morning
afters," that horrible feeling of slowly coming to and experiencing the
double whammy of a cracking hangover, and a multitude of regrets. And
perhaps a rather large dose of fear, due to the fact that you can’t
remember how you got home, what you said, if you texted that ex, if you
locked the front door, if you remembered your handbag, and so on.
Next
time that happens, remember this: if you continue to drink, you will
continue to have these mornings. If you stop drinking today, you will
never, ever have a morning like this again.
Lucy could not have said that better than if she was waking up beside me on many a Saturday morning in the last few years.
Oh, my head. My mouth is as dry and furry as the bottom of a birdcage. I try and lick my lips; they're parched. In fact, I'm so dry I can barely swallow. My tongue feels too thick. I can't smell my breath but I can only be thankful there's nobody here to witness that. Hang on, there isn't anyone here, is there??? (Glances over to other side of bed). Relief floods me. I look beyond to the bedside table. There's no friendly glass of water on there. This basically means I walked in the door and fell straight into bed, without pumping any water in before I did so. Which will mean today is going to be truly terrible in its aftermath of what last night seemed incredibly good fun.
I have to get up. I have to get a few gallons of water into me. And some pain pills. Three. And a Berocca. And some juice, if I have any. And some toast, or something to put in my belly that isn't alcohol. Because of course I didn't eat last night. I forgot to. It's unimportant when you're drinking like that, and of course as my dear friend Shaun used to say "There's a steak in every stubbie." You don't have any hunger when you're refreshed - well, not for food anyway. Just more beer.
Oh I can't get up. I move an inch, and my head sends an incredible bolt of pain ratcheting through from just over the eyes all the way to the back of my skull. I sink back on the pillow. The kitchen is a mere 15 metres away, and I can't make it there. Not yet. I have to lie here and feel the pain some more.
Some thoughts wander uneasily through my tortured brain. My phone's been quiet. Where is my phone? Did it make it home with me, or have I finally lost it? Surely my luck in that regard has to run out soon. I went through a phase of losing about 4 phones in six months - not all through drink, I'm happy to say (one of them was swimming in a waterfall with the phone in my back pocket). The phone I have now must be like a cat with all its lives; I've even dropped it down the toilet and it survived. It's been left places, and returned. It's fallen out of my pocket, and I've realised. Or someone else has. But today I'm not sure I'm going to be that lucky. Where is it? And while I'm at it, my bank cards, my cash? Is there even any cash left? How much did I spend? How many drinks did I actually have? Can I even remember? No.
How did I get home? Did I walk, get a taxi, get a lift with a friend, a stranger, what? Has anyone been in here? Where is my house key? Has anything been stolen?
Did I say goodbye to my friends at the pub when I left? I try and think, but can't even remember the last time I saw them. Were they even there when I left? Did they perhaps go without saying goodbye? I can't remember ANY goodbyes. Did I talk a heap of crap last night? Did I betray any confidences unwittingly because I'd given my wits away to the demon drink. Have I been a total tool? Do I have apologies to make, and for what, and to whom? Will they forgive me? Will I ever forgive myself? Will I ever stop doing this?? When will I wake up to myself??
Next
time that happens, remember this: if you continue to drink, you will
continue to have these mornings. If you stop drinking today, you will
never, ever have a morning like this again.
Never a truer word than these above two lines from Ms Lucy Rocca. She has been there, done that, and has remained dry since then. Two years, I think.
I've been totally dry now for 13 days.
It has been an enormous pleasure to wake up clear headed each morning. That is a fact I cannot dispute. I have also dropped a couple of kilos in the last ten days or so. I would never have thought I drank enough to affect my weight, but evidently I did.
So my girlfriend on the phone yesterday asked me what I intended doing at the end of Ocsober....
What indeed?
My answer was that when I first started this quest, my celebration at end of month would involve me having a few drinks with some mates down the Gold Coast. Not too many, mind you. It's a weekend away, and I don't want to obliterate myself, and plus I'll have my daughter with me, and I'm nearly always mindful of that. Nearly always, not always, I'm ashamed to say.
Yesterday when I got asked that question, I'd decided I'd really prefer to maybe just have one light beer, but only if I really, really felt like it, and then leave it at that. I was thinking I'd like to essentially remain a non drinker. Because I like this feeling of waking up to the kind of certainty that only sobriety can bring. I don't want to waste another day being hung over and regretful.
Today of course, I'm different again. My moods on this subject swing the full spectrum from day to day, even hour by hour. Because of course I do like to drink. I like the taste of beer. I like the way it makes me feel. I like the fact that the world is socially open to me when I drink, whether I choose to have one beer or six. I can go to the pub, see a band, even walk into a pub on my own, and not feel misplaced. Try doing that sober!
I've been sort of lucky this week in that I've had a bad and lingering cold, and therefore haven't been able to get out much. I've missed a few nights out that would have involved me facing the challenge of being sober in that kind of social situation. I haven't gone because I've felt so ordinary. But I'm wondering if I had have been drinking, whether I would have gone out regardless and just pushed through that barrier, in the name of being social and having a good time. After all, everything goes better with beer. And beer makes your sore throat disappear way faster than any pills and bed rest can!
Last weekend I distracted myself with lots of physical activity during the day. I did go out to the pub one evening, and for a game of pool, and drank soft drink. It felt downright weird; everyone there was drinking alcohol, and myself and my pool partner were drinking soft drink, playing pool, and everything was so clear and unfuzzy and sort of predictable. It was nice, pleasant, and unexciting. And I figured that this weekend would be the same; hence I've decided it's not worth the bother of getting dressed up to go out. Because it's easier staying sober at home than being sober at a pub or club.
What will I do at the end of Ocsober? I honestly don't know. I'd like to say I enjoy the clear head so much that I won't want to drink again. The odds are against it though. Ocsober has made me realise though that I do want to make a change to what I'd been doing. I don't want those mornings after. No more, not ever.
As with most things in my life these days, I give this particular complexity over to the Universe, because I know over the course of the next 19 days, the solution will present itself. It's OK not to know now, and it's great that Ocsober has raised my awareness to the point where I know now what I truly don't want, and I have reached that awareness not during the onslaught of a blinding hangover (which is usually the only time I want to lose the booze) but through the course of clear and sober reflection....
Interesting thoughts indeed.... and the answer is out there....
Stay tuned Xo
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