Booze and Hormones

I honestly don't think about drinking much these days. The more time goes on, the easier everything gets....

....but the problem with that is that you begin to forget about all those dark days, and how bad it once was.

You start to think "Am I crazy? What am I thinking being so extreme, so black and white about the whole drinking thing? Perhaps I've been overreacting! Of course I can have an eensy weensy glass of wine from time to time...."

(For more on this one, see my post: Did I Overreact?)

And I've discovered that this incredibly annoying thought process is most likely to occur when there are hormones involved.

When we drink a lot, we get really out of the habit of listening to our bodies. The dramatic cycle of drinking-hangover-drinking, with all its associated mood swings, rather overwhelms everything else.

Back at four months sober, I wrote a post (click here) about how amazing it was, once your body got used to functioning without booze, to feel properly in synch with your natural rhythms - your sleep, your appetite and your moods.

But the other thing I've realised is that, having been pretty much oblivious to PMT for ages, I'm now very much aware of it. And that's when I start having all the What's it all about?!? thoughts.

(Funnily enough, my friend the addiction counsellor, tells me that she sees many women who had no problem with booze until they hit menopause. I wonder whether it was the hormone soup that tipped them over the edge?)

So, if you're early on in this whole journey, or even an old pro, then watch out for those dastardly hormones. They're the wine witch's best friend...

Incidentally, with #1 approaching thirteen, our house is a veritable bubbling volcano of hormones. Poor Mr SM - who has no sisters, and went to a boys boarding school from the age of seven - is finding the whole puberty thing somewhat unnerving.

On Sunday morning he asked "What are we all going to do today?"

#1 was angling for a family trip to her favourite French restaurant, so she said "Why don't we look for a little Brasserie?"

Mr SM looked horrified. He replied "Darling, you know I am a modern man" (he so is not) "but I do have to draw the line somewhere, and shopping for undergarments is very much a Mummy thing."

I left #1 to explain to her father the (very many) differences between a brassiere and a Brasserie.

Hormones. How can something so tiny wreak so much havoc?

Love SM x