Meeting Annie

Regular readers of this blog, or Annie's blog (A Dappled Path) will know that yesterday we arranged to meet I.R.L, as my kids would say (in real life).

I was really nervous.

I got married before the days of internet dating, when we still did things like introduce single friends to each other at dinner parties (how quaint!), but I imagine it's a similar feeling....

....You read someone's profile, you e-mail them for ages, you exchange secrets, hopes and fears. You think you're going to really, really like each other, but - deep down - you're terrified that you'll see them and immediately think oh no! Not my cup of tea at all. Totally not what I was expecting. Beam me up, Scotty!

I've never seen a photo of Annie, but we'd e-mailed each other describing our outfits, and arranged to meet under the clock in Charing Cross Station - just like in a cheesy romance.

And, you know what? Even if Annie had turned up disguised as Wonder Woman (which she didn't, by the way) I would have recognised her.

This lady walked towards me, and she looked just like her blog - all gorgeous and honest and hopeful, and a little bit scared.

And we hugged.

Then we walked. Over Hungerford bridge and alongside the river, in the sunshine. I find it easier to talk honestly when I'm walking (it's a great way to get teenagers to open up, by the way. Take them for a walk). And we talked. For hours.

And I realised that all Annie needs is faith. Faith that the field on the other side of the obstacle course filled with fluffy bunnies does exist (see my post: The Obstacle Course which I wrote for Annie back in September). And faith that she can make it there.

The problem is that when you've done hundreds of Day Ones you start to lose confidence in your ability to get any further. You re-inforce the feeling in your subconscious that it's all too difficult. That you're just not strong enough.

I told Annie about a friend of mine who recently completed her PhD. She said that initially she was terrified. It all looked too hard. Impossible. Insurmountable.

Then, someone told her not to think about the whole project, but to break it up into tiny individual tasks, and to just do one of those each day.

So that's what she did. And she kept going, until one day she realised that she'd nearly finished her whole dissertation! And that buoyed her up with so much confidence that she sailed through to the end with panache.

Quitting booze is the same.

If you think about the whole thing, it paralyses you. Annie would get through a few days then, usually on a Friday, panic about the idea about doing it forever, and feel that it was too hard. Impossible. Insurmountable. So she'd have a drink. And another one. You know the story.

"Break it down into tiny, individual bits," I said. "It's only two hours per day that you find really hard - 7pm - 9pm. So just focus on how to get through those two hours.

"Write a list of things that you can do that hold no associations with drinking, and will keep your mind (and, ideally, hands) occupied. Walking the dog, blogging, playing the piano, or the cello.

"Explain to the rest of the family that for the next three months you need those hours in the evening to yourself, and they'll have to learn to cook (or at least re-heat) their own suppers!

"Then, when you start really, really wanting a drink, look at your list and do one of those things until you feel better. If you're still feeling edgy at 9pm, just go to bed early.

"You can do two hours, can't you? That's all you have to do - one hundred times. Then it'll all start getting easier. And I know that one hundred sounds like a big number, but it's only one school term. And think how quickly one school term goes!"

I hope I helped. She seemed happy to have a plan, along with her weekly counselling sessions and AA meetings.

I found this quote for you, Annie:

My personal definition of confidence is to keep believing that the stars in the solar system are actually watching and applauding you. (Johnnie Dent Jr)

And they are watching and applauding, and so are all of us!

Annie and I are meeting again at the end of the summer holidays to celebrate her 100 days. Whoop whoop!

You know what? The sobersphere is great, but nothing beats being able to look into someone's eyes or sharing a great big hug. I.R.L.

Love to you all, especially beautiful Annie.

SM x

My Friend Annie

One of the sober bloggers I follow is Annie (A Dappled Path).

I feel like I know Annie really well. Partly because she wears her heart on every page of her blog, and partly because we also e-mail each other frequently. It even turns out we have mutual friends in the real world. I've told her my real name.

Annie's been blogging for way longer than me. But she's on Day 7.

I - along with thousands of others - have followed her heart wrenching struggle from Day 1 to Day 1 over and over again. And we've all been there, haven't we?

My journey has got easier and easier, and more and more miraculous, over the last thirteen months. Meanwhile Annie has thrown herself, courageously, at those horrible first obstacles over and over again, and never made it to the field of bunnies on the other side (see my post The Obstacle Course).

Well yesterday, for the first time in months, Annie made it to Day 7 (yay!). And this time she sounds different. More determined, more confident.

Like most of us, Annie finds Friday evenings the hardest, so she plucked up the courage to go to an AA meeting (she's a braver girl than I am).

Annie has a love hate relationship with AA. The problem is that whenever she hears a gruesome tale of someone's rock bottom, she thinks 'that's not me!' (or, deep down, I don't want that to be me) and she drives straight from the meeting to the wine shop.

(I totally understand that. After all, I still refuse to call myself an 'alcoholic.' It's partly why I've never been to a meeting myself).

Annie blogged about last night's meeting, explaining that she can't associate with the hardened alkies, and a lady called haplesshomesteaders posted a response that I thought so wise I had to share it. Here it is:

Once, early in my sobriety, I told my sponsor that the stories of “people NOTHING like me” I heard in meetings made me feel like I was just fine, and that moderation was more for my sort than abstinence.

She told me I was half right. I was different than they were. I was worse off.

They had been sober longer, understood how serious their problem was, and didn’t use others’ experiences as (yet another) excuse to drink. They were also more generous than I was, willing to share honestly the stories of their addiction to help me get sober.

She had me.

She told me I had to stop looking for differences and start looking for similarities — it was my giant alcoholic ego that kept me from seeing them. I’m glad to hear that you do see some of those similarities.

And one final word from my sponsor (ha ha) — she said that because of luck (financial circumstances, mental and physical health, supportive family, timing) — and not because of any specialness on my part — alcohol had not visited some of those horrors you talk about (losing kids, constant drunkenness) on me.

But the seeds were there, and had I kept drinking, my addiction certainly could have brought down all that and worse. That is one of the many reasons I am so grateful for AA.

If you find this post, haplesshomesteaders, then thank you. For telling it like it is, and for making me think.

And now I am dying to hear if Annie made it through to Day 8. I've checked her blog. I've e-mailed her. Not a peep.

I'm, literally, on the edge of my seat.

Annie and I have agreed to meet up in real life once the kids are back in school. I'm excited about it, but also terrified. It's like a blind date - you're desperate to get on as well as you think you will, but know you'll be gutted if you don't....

So, Annie, whether you're on Day 1 or Day 8, know that we are all willing you on.

Sending you, and everyone else in the same boat, a big virtual hug.

SM x