The Twelfth Nite of Ocsober: Reflections

So it's 9.30 p.m. on a Saturday night, and I'm home alone.  Just being with me.  Sober Me.

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

 

 

 

 

Cheers to the Freakin Sober Weekend...

DAY 4 - FRIDAY 4 OCTOBER 8.18PM, AFTER DINNER, BEFORE BED, WHERE A BEER WOULD HAVE SLOTTED IN OH SO WELL...

Cheers, Fellow Ocsoberites.. hope you're having a good night, and an easier time of it than I am at the moment.

The first three days have not been too difficult really.  Actually to be fair to myself, I really started two days prior, not intentionally, but I just didn't see any point in loading up on alcohol in preparation for a beer famine.  It's a bit like dieting, where you feel you must have your last hurrah, so you eat everything in sight the night before, to stand trembling on the scales on D-Day morning about 3 kegs more than you were last time you decided you were the biggest heifer God laid breath into... thereby setting yourself up for an even harder task (and diets are doomed to failure, everyone knows that).

So I sort of "eased" myself into Ocsober: one Cascade light beer only on the 29th, nothing at all on the 30th, and that meant my cold turkey was already nicely chilled for the month ahead.  Or so I thought...

So Days 1 to 3, as I said, no real problem.  Sure, I wanted a beer.  But it wasn't too bad.  Being weekdays as well, by the time I finished work, organised dinner and then fell into bed exhausted, it seemed fairly okay.  I've also stepped up the exercise to distract myself.  As well as managed to fast two days this week (Mon and Thurs) to carry on with the 5:2 strategy that has seem me drop an impressive amount of weight over the last few months.. I think I'm actually addicted to the feeling of fasting now.  Hmm, maybe I'm just an addict!

Anyway, Friday dawned (as it does!) and heading into the weekend, I've wanted a beer, and all day.  It's school holidays as well, so entertaining (is that what I'm doing?  Hmm I think I AM the entertainment here) a somewhat rebellious nearly 14 year old, has had me reaching for that non existent beer prop all day - and coming away empty handed, I'm proud to say.

Mid afternoon it became extremely pressing, wanting that beer, I mean.  I'd worked, I'd swum, I'd sunbaked, I'd eaten half a tray of the chocolate brownie bake (hey I'm not fasting today!) and STILL my old mate Vic B was calling me.  Insistently.  Not to be appeased.

So I decided to walk, to somewhere where there was no beer.  I passed the bottle shop on the way.  Actually, two bottle shops.  I ended up at the beach.  Saw some guys drinking stubbies, as the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky.  I ignored them, and jumped in the ocean.  No towel, or change of clothes.   I'm gonna regret this when I'm walking home.  The ocean feels warm, and wild.  I float awhile, pondering the 26 days ahead.  Shit, it's actually 27.  How on earth am I gonna do this?

I emerge out of the surf, and stand there in the breeze, getting air dried.  The guys with the beers are gone, thankfully.  I start to walk along the sand.  I can hear music coming from the surf club, so I want to get closer to hear what's playing.  And of course the first thing I notice is all the people on the deck, drinking, laughing and enjoying.  I turn away, rinse my feet, then walk back towards the road.  Past Laguna Jack's (and that bottle shop again) only this time there's a heap of people in there, enjoying their icy cold bevys at this time of day.  I grit my teeth.  I now want one so bad, I almost consider cheating.  I can feel my legs wanting to walk in there, to that big inviting glass fridge, choosing my preferred icy friend, cracking him and taking that first gulp, my fingers wet with cold moisture off the glass.. and how great that would taste.

But then how bloody AWFUL I'm gonna feel, how hopeless, how I'm gonna KICK myself, how ashamed, how everything BAD BAD BAD.  Four days and couldn't cut it.  And the alarming implications that raises in me, the suggestion that really I am no longer in control of my choices because I NEED that drink more than I need to keep my integrity.

Hey, I almost RAN from there, straight across the road, and then made the stoic walk home to my currently dry life.  Phew.  I'm going to make it past today at least.

So what to do over the weekend?  I have plenty of possibilities, and invites to do things.  Some of those things involve activities which for me would normally include drinking.  Catching up with friends.  Seeing a band at one of the surf clubs.  Part of me wants to just hibernate for the month and go nowhere, see nobody, and then go totally apeshit on 1 November.  But the part of me that began this whole painful yet worthy mission needs to KNOW that I can function in the real world in this way.  Because the day might come when I need to.  So tomorrow (which as Scarlett O'Hara says, is another day) I am going to the beach, I am meeting up with friends, and whatever else I would have done.  On Sunday I am going to see not one band, but two.  Most of my friends will be drinking, but a couple won't.  I'm not sure if that will help anyway, but it's nice of them to offer.

What I'm really hoping here is that it does become easier, because when I said we're in for a ride, I'm now thinking it's gonna be a HELL of a ride!!

Yours in grumpy sobriety

Caz X

Twas The Night Before Ocsober....

"Twas the Night 'Ere Ocsober and all through the house...
Not a stubbie was being opened, not even a glass...."

Well, here it is, as September 2013 disappears forever, and the Spectre of Cold Hard Sobriety looms upon yonder horizon... not just once, but for 31 sleeps...

Goodness gracious, what have I got into here!?!

It's comforting a few of my Qld buddies are joining me on this most ambitious quest though.  Irene, I haven't known you long, but you look and are an angel, and so happy you turned up in my life.  Dani, that's a bit of a surprise, and very damn impressed, young lady!  And Mellita, we are gonna kick arse with this; as you say, an interesting month ahead.   On the Victorian team there's Mal (who I regard as an honorary Queenslander anyway) and glad you enjoyed that glass of wine tonight, gorgeous man.  Glad you're keeping me company on this journey!

So.... I was up at 5 this morning (work that I didn't want to waste my weekend doing, sigh), couple of coffees of course, and very, very mindful that today was my last chance to drink for quite a while.  This of course comes on the back of a pretty big drinking and partying weekend.  Lots of dancing, lots of fun.. and the prospect of the next month is looking gloomy.  And stressful.  And making me anxious, just a bit.  Otherwise OK, haha.

You see, I hate to fail.  At anything!  And this is so damn public, and no, I can't just cheat because I would KNOW that I cheated.  People have sponsored me, but more importantly I've invested emotional sponsorship in myself, belief in what I'm doing, the reasons I am doing it, and that I in fact CAN DO IT and WILL DO IT.  Whew.  No pressure!

Looking at the next few weeks, there's a few events happening that are simply screaming out for beer.  Jon Stevens is coming to Noosa.  So is Russell Morris.  And that's just for starters.  Never mind the Sunday sessions at the surf club, or the lovely late arvo coldies with my good mate Denise on the beach. Or my lovely little sunset spot across the road on the river, chilling out with the pelicans and a sunset after a hard day slogging on the keyboard.   I wouldn't say my world revolves around alcohol, but it's fair to say a cold beer does enhance my world, sometimes I suspect too often for my own good...

So here goes!

Those that don't want to take up such a challenge, they have their reasons.  It's too hard, the month is too long (February on a non leap year would have been better), maybe kids' education into addictions is not worthy enough a cause, or maybe they simply just don't bloody want to!  All good reasons perhaps, to them. 

But the reason I'm doing it (apart from raising money for those kids that I would like to see grow into a clean living generation better than their parents are) is simply to see if I CAN.  Plain and simple.  Curiosity.  A challenge.  Can I do this?  How hard will it be?  Will I have withdrawal symptoms?  Am I closer to the grip of alcoholism than I care to consider?  Because if I'm not, why on earth would giving it up for a month cause me any anxiety at all?  It should be like giving up orange juice.  I like drinking that too, but going a month without it would be inconsequential. 

Coming from a childhood of being raised by an alcoholic father (I call it being "raised" for wont of a better word, another story for another time, that one) and no mother at all from age 9, I am very mindful of genetic alcoholism and the like, because I'm rather anxious to avoid that particular problem now and also later in life.  Not least of which my reasons are not to subject my daughter to the same tired groove that I danced to as a kid.  Yet I've felt myself teetering on the brink of the abyss a few times in my life, where to let myself fall over that cliff would mean a long desperate clawing back to sobriety and sanity.  So I'd simply rather allow myself that bit of latitude for a while, and rein it back in before it goes beyond Point Danger.  I can always feel the point approaching, and thankfully I've always acted on it thus far..

The books I have read on the topic tell me that as soon as drinking has become a habit, no matter how small, you are in fact an alcoholic.  In the same way smoking becomes a habit, or drugs, or gambling.  It's mindless.  You no longer choose to indulge in your addiction, because the choice is no longer there.  You NEED to use your substance.  End game.  Sadly, by the time people come to this realisation, it is actually already too late.

Take another example.  Drinking in the car while driving.  The ubiquitous "traveller."  How nice is that?  You're heading over to a party or to a friend's place, or not even anywhere particular, but the drive is always that much nicer with a friendly cold beer clutched between your thighs (or these days, in a prim n proper drink holder).  No bad, right?  Hey, if you've got a bit of a distance to cover, you might even bring a spare.  Because it's twofold; it relaxes you as well, and you get to your destination already wearing a happy smile and a bit of buzz. You walk in the door, but the party started back home already before you left!

So taking a step back, looking at myself, and I don't really like what I see there.  I remember my dad with his glass of red in the car.  I also remember him driving down the wrong side of the Tulla Freeway with my mother and us two kids in the back seat.  Mum screaming, and we kids not really understanding why Mum was screaming, or what the hideous consequences could well have been....

Ocsober is about giving our kids a better crack at living authentically.  It's also about us having the gumption to challenge ourselves to take back control of our freedom to choose, before we can no longer do it. But it's mostly about celebrating life with those we love, as only a free person can do...

Best of luck, fellow Ocsoberites, it's gonna be a ride!! Xoxxo