31 days of freedom/hell/happiness/misery (delete as appropriate)

31 days of freedom/hell/happiness/misery (delete as appropriate)

So you’ve done it. Achieved the unthinkable. Battled through the cravings & the moods & the misery & remained sober for 31 days of hell. So now what?

Dry January is a brilliant concept to give your liver a break after the excesses of Christmas. It is also good for your dire bank balance & for the diet that you started with gusto & will contribute massively to your new gym regime. But tomorrow is February. And you’ve been paid. And it’s a Thursday, which is almost Friday yeah? And you’ve been sooo good right?

I was always part of the ‘it’s February 1st, let’s get slaughtered’ brigade. I can barely remember any February 2nd’s. Being ‘allowed’ to drink again meant the diet was ruined, the gym forgotten, the cigarettes started again & I got well & truly smashed.

So, does that make 31 days of abstinence a complete waste of time? Well, yes .. and no.

My attitude today is ‘you’ve done 31 days, why stop now?’

My attitude before Soberdom was ‘I’ve done 31 days & that’s quite enough, thank you very much’.

Of course, everyone has their own reasons for giving Soberdom a go but one of the common reasons is the illusive ‘off switch’. It would appear that quite a few of us have been a little bit faulty from birth! However, if you’ve completed Dry January though, you’ve kind of proved that the off switch does exist, even if it’s a little loose in its socket.

Dry January has probably made you assess your drinking habits and a month of abstinence might make you determined to be more mindful going forward rather than give up for good. I wish you all the very best with this but my personal experience is that by the end of February, you might be right back where you started.

The longer I remain sober, the more I can’t see the point of intentionally picking up a drink after a period of abstinence. I mean, if you’d given up smoking for 31 days, you’d be chuffed and have no intention of doing it again right? And you certainly wouldn’t celebrate 31 days free from heroin by shooting up a syringe.

Why is alcohol so different?

Over the last month, I’ve read numerous posts about people being disappointed they are not losing weight quickly enough or that they are feeling impossibly tired or feel unable to stop feasting on sugar. These are all common symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. After all, you’ve been systematically putting a drug into your body for the whole of your adult life. Did you really expect no comeback for the years of self abuse?

In my experience, the first 3 months of Soberdom are the hardest. It takes roughly 90 days to see proper results such as weight loss, clearer skin, boundless energy & steadier emotions. Of course, there’ll be exceptions to the rule but I think you need more than a Dry January to get the results you want.

Tonight, there is a New Moon, the symbol of hope & new beginnings. You’ve done so well! Do you really want to undo all that hard work & go back to the start? Do you really want to contaminate your now alcohol free body & reward yourself with the hangover from hell? I hope the answer is no and that you will continue your already amazing journey into a new, fresh month. Give yourself the gift of an alcohol free February. I promise you won’t regret it!


Going back to my roots

Going back to my roots

When I came up to London yesterday, I knew I had a couple of hours to kill between going to the hairdresser & taking my 97 year old grandad to a prearranged hospital appointment. I also needed to fit my walking in but had no idea where I was going to go.

Lightbulb moment ‘I know, I’ll practice using my gut’.

I had about 3 hours before the hospital appointment on the other side of London so thought I’d head that way so not to be late. As I was driving, I saw a sign for where I was born & brought up in North London so decided to go back to my roots and take a wander round.

I arrived at my old town that we left when I was 16 & recognised nothing. It felt weird, looking for something, anything to jog my memory. Suddenly, I saw a road name I recognised & drove down it. Still nothing. Until I got to the end and it was like my memories just unfolded before me. There was the church and the bus stop and the bend in the road leading up to where I used to live. Ironically, I also remembered that I’d actually had a dream about the exact same spot just a couple of days before. Coincidence?

I followed the road up towards my old house, memories flooding back of friends I’m no longer in touch with & boys who broke my heart & school & snow & my first job & Christmas & a happy time before alcohol came along.

It was quite emotional but I’m not really sure why. Nostalgia I guess. I was very conscious that my memory had distorted things beyond recognition when actually lots of things like hills & houses & shops & stations hadn’t really changed.

As I left my old town and drove towards my grandads, I saw even more places I recognised .. schools & a memorial & a hotel & the photography shop where we’d had our professional baby photos taken in the late 70’s! Obviously a successful business! I drove past the hospital I was born and then into the countryside where the tears started to flow.

Like I say, I’m not really sure what I was crying about. A build up of stuff I guess but it came out and that was ok.

When I got to my grandads care home, it was obvious he had deteriorated massively since I last saw him. He was frail, weak, mumbling gibberish & in my opinion, in no fit state for a trip to the hospital. But he has a pace maker which needed to be checked so off we went.

My heart was breaking in the car. He’s deaf, has dementia, has no idea what’s going on and can’t communicate. It was getting dark and he was probably frightened. The traffic was heavy and I knew we had a mission ahead when we got to the enormous hospital in Hertfordshire. Parking was always a nightmare but again, I was using the power of my mind, willing for there to be a space near where I needed to be.

As I turned into the car park, there was a space. I was overjoyed. This made my life a whole lot easier and I quickly parked. But, as I did, I heard the most awful noise next to me and turned to see my grandad had been sick literally everywhere.

I panicked. What the hell was I supposed to do? Luckily, I guess, he didn’t have a clue. I leaped out of the car to his side and grabbed some wipes I handily kept in the glove box and started the clean up operation.

In the midst of the nightmare, something just took over me to get the job done. It was cold, he was freezing, it was dark, we had to get into the hospital and the car was in a state. I bundled him into a wheelchair, wrapped him in my shawl and got inside. There, I just lost it. It was so upsetting and I found myself starting to think about having a cigarette. Just something to take away the awfulness of the whole situation. The planning in my head started. ‘After I drop him off, I’ll just go to Tesco’s to get some cleaning products and buy a packet of 10. I’ll only have one. No one will know.’

But similarly to alcohol, I know I won’t have one. And I know no one will know. But I will know. And that is enough.

Eventually, I got my grandad safely back to the home and knew that was probably the last time I will see him. I got back into my foul smelling car and drove away sobbing. Life really is so bloody cruel sometimes.

I drove to Tesco’s, still battling inside. I was aware the battle was more about cigarettes rather than a large glass of Sauvignon but to be honest, either would’ve done. Instead, I bought a massive packet of Mini Eggs & did the lot. Boom. The craving was gone.

Emotionally drained and exhausted, I finally arrived at my friends last night, my happy hair photo a distant memory. So do redheads have more fun? The jury is definitely out but they definitely have more drama for sure.