What Happened Next....

Blimey, what a rollercoaster....

My book launched two days ago, all over the world.

It was much like giving birth, although painful in a very different way, and not half as messy.

For months I'd been creating and nurturing this baby of mine, and then it was out into the world, fending for itself and meeting strangers, many of whom have (very kindly!) cooed all over it, but some (I'm sure, although no-one's said as much yet...) think it's a rather noisy, smelly little thing.

The night before the launch I didn't sleep at all. I was terrified. I was scared that no-one would buy it. I was scared that people would buy it, but then hate it.

I felt horribly exposed, like one of those nightmares where you end up walking into a crowded room naked, by accident (anyone else have those?)

Then, the morning arrived, and it was actually okay. Better than okay.

I had hundreds of messages from people (including you guys on this blog - THANK YOU!) saying how much they were enjoying reading my story, but also - crucially - how much it was making them think.

(Many thanks to Laura Willoughby, Lucy Rocca and Penni Moussa for letting me share the news on Club Soda, Soberistas and Recovery Buddha, and to their amazing communities for all their support).

Most importantly, I've also had many messages already from people saying you are describing ME! I'm so pleased I'm not alone. And those are the ones that make it really worthwhile, because that's why I decided to do this in the first place, because I still remember how alone I felt, back on Day One.

I became glued to the Amazon book chart, of 6 million titles, watching my baby climb up to #1000, then #500, then #300, and - incredibly - it's still going up.

We're on holiday in Scotland, and on the afternoon of the launch we had a long drive to do, to a family gathering. So, I downloaded the audio version of the book, so we could listen to it with the children.

(I figured that they had to know what was in it, and this way, anything that bothered them we could all discuss together rather than them fretting in private).

It's very odd listening to an actress being 'you'. Karen Cass does a brilliant job. In fact I liked her rather more than myself and am wondering whether she'd take the job on permanently.

Then we got to the first scene with the husband, and discovered that the voice she’s given him doesn't sound like him at all! The children thought it hilarious.

I had my finger constantly on fast forward so I could skip over any mention of things like being the tooth fairy, or Santa Claus or - god forbid - the husband and I having sex.

(My eldest came across a sex reference when leafing through a proof copy and hurled it across the room screaming aarrrghhhh! No child should ever have to see THAT! And now I can NEVER UNSEE IT!)

So, last night I went to bed early, hoping to catch up on some sleep after the excitement of the last two days.

I woke up at 4am and made a terrible mistake. I looked at my phone. There was a message from a friend of mine in Australia (where it was coffee break time) saying YOU'RE IN THE DAILY MAIL!

I knew this article was coming, but we'd expected it sometime next week, not today.

Then I made my second mistake. Everyone had told me never read the comments on the Mail Online, for that is the land of the troll.... 

Now I'm never going to be able to get back to sleep. Bugger.

I've put the Mail article up on the SoberMummy Facebook Page. Click here.

Listen out for Radio 4's Woman's Hour on January 2nd!

If you'd like to read the first few chapters of the book FOR FREE, then go to my Amazon page, here, and use the 'see inside' option.

Thank you all for making such a safe haven here where I can retreat to and offload. I don't know what I'd do without you.

Love SM x

Countdown

I can't believe that after eighteen months of planning, writing, editing and publicising, it's only TWO WEEKS until the book is released.

I have gone from feeling excited to being utterly terrified.

What was I thinking? I was happy and comfortable hiding behind my pseudonym and pretending to the world that my life was, and always had been, perfect.

For the first year of being sober, I told virtually no-one. The idea of being outed as someone who found it impossible to control alcohol was terrifying.

Yet now I am telling the world. WHY?!?!

(N.B. I am sure my parents have asked themselves this, many times).

I keep reminding myself of the answer to that question: that stories change lives, that mine may help thousands of other women struggling, and help to challenge the shame and stigma around going sober.

Then I think: what if no-one buys it? What if I let down all those lovely people who've helped turn the book from my general ramblings into a beautiful, glossy reality?

My editor, who championed my proposal to her board and held my hand through the writing process, the arty people who designed the cover and layout, and the PR, marketing and sales people who've been shouting about it everywhere.

Even worse, what if no-one likes it? What if they hate me? What if you don't like it?

Arrrggghhhh!

It's too late to cancel (I checked).

So, I'm running around, doing all the PR thingies whilst trying to get Christmas sorted.

Two days ago, I had a photo shoot with the Daily Mail, who are going to run excerpts from the book.

This was my idea of hell. I hate having my photo taken - even a quick shot with an iPhone, let alone spending half a day over it.

They told me to arrive with clean hair and no make-up. No make-up? I hadn't left the house without foundation on for twenty years! I was sure I'd send children screaming from the tube on my way there.

I turned up, bare-faced and trembling, in their swishy offices off Kensington High Street. I was met by a lovely lady from the PR team at my publishers, who was there to hold my (sweaty) hand.

We were ushered into a studio where there was a make-up and hair lady, wardrobe person (just as well I hadn't lied about my dress size) and photographer, a scarily large camera and lots of lights.

And you know what? It was actually quite fun. Mainly because the (all female) team were lovely, and there was lots of general banter and jolliness.

I left the studio for the school run, and turned up at the school gate in full slap, false eyelashes and all. The double-takes amongst the other mothers were hilarious. I'm sure they now think I'm having a torrid daytime affair...

Click here to go to my Amazon page. I really, really hope you like the book.

In other news, there are lots of fab new articles on the SoberMummy Facebook page. Click here to visit, 'like' the page to stay updated.

Merry Christmas and love to you all,

SM x

Drinking and Divorce

There was a fabulous article in the Daily Mail yesterday which asked Why are so many women drinking their way to divorce?

For the full article, click here.

According to the article, a recent study showed that more and more marriages are breaking down because of the wife's excessive drinking. It's thought to contribute to as many as one in seven divorces.

I can see how that can so easily be the case, as I get so many e-mails from women telling me that their husbands have given them an ultimatum: either the booze goes, or I do.

Looking back, I see now that alcohol was the root cause of many of my marital arguments. There were a few spectacular ones, like the Finnish wedding.

Mr SM had known the groom since they were at school together at the age of ten. They also spent a memorable year, after they graduated, living in St Petersburg, where Mr SM learned to speak rather ropey, but extremely sexy, Russian.

The wedding venue was stunning - the bride's family summer house on the edge of a Fjord, in the height of summer when, that far North, it never gets dark. At about 2am the light would get a little dusky, but a couple of hours later the relentless bright sunshine would return.

We had a ball. Being just over a narrow sea from Russia, there was a vodka and caviar bar which we made the most of, then a lavish wedding feast of reindeer, washed down with endless enthusiastic toasts of unpronounceable finnish spirits.

At about three in the morning, the last coach was leaving for the hotel, half an hour away. Mr SM was having so much fun with the fins in the sauna that he refused to come back with me.

They were all sitting in the heat, naked and sweating, while Mr SM sang 'Fins can only get better' (that joke must have worn thin after a while). Then they'd run at full pelt down a wooden jetty and dive into the ice-cold fjord.

I lost it. We had a screaming row, and then I sat on the floor of the bus (there were no seats left) telling all the bemused (and rather concerned) passengers at great length how Mr SM had never truly loved me and it was all over.

Mr SM managed to get a lift back in the boot of someone’s car about an hour later. We both woke up, terribly hungover, at around lunch time having forgotten most of the detail of our very public meltdown, and couldn’t understand why everyone was looking at us strangely and asking if we were ‘okay.’

The vast majority of our alcohol based arguments were, however, nothing like as dramatic as the Finnish one. Just the endless tetchy debates (when hungover) about who was going to feed the baby at 5am, or take the toddler to a party where you’d have to clap and sing and participate.

Then, after a few glasses of wine in the evening, the drunken fights (inevitably started by me) about who wasn’t pulling their weight around the house, or with the childcare.

I’m sure that every married couple has these sorts of arguments, but the problems start when the majority of your conversations end up like this.

Marriage is like a piggy bank. Every time you do something nice, thoughtful or generous for the other person you put money into the bank, and every time you treat them badly, thoughtlessly or carelessly to take money out. If you’re not careful, eventually the piggy bank is empty.

The other issue with drinking in a marriage is that excessive alcohol use leads to self-hatred, anxiety and depression, all of which make it very difficult to focus properly on your relationship, to top up that piggy bank.

Yet, even when we know we're destroying our relationships we carry on. Why?

Because we assume that life without booze just won't be worth living.

Well, that's where you're wrong. It's ten times better. So please, just do it. Before it's too late.

Love SM x

Liz Jones

Liz Jones is a fashion editor and newspaper columnist who has, over the last twenty years, written in painfully honest detail about the ups and downs of her life.

When I come across a Liz Jones column, I have the same feeling I have when I'm driving down the motorway and notice a car crash on the other side of the road: I know I really shouldn't slow down to look, I know it's only going to make me miserable and that there's nothing I can do to help, but even so I find my foot hovering over the brake.

Then, at the weekend, I came across this headline from Liz:

LIZ JONES: I've finally got a friend I can rely on - a bottle of wine a day.

Here's an abridged version of what Liz had to say:

I'm not writing about 'wine o'clock' and one too many glasses of a really nice Chablis to wind down. I drink to escape my life, not toast it.

I don't want to get tiddly - I want to be comatose, to escape the awful pressing problems of today. I don't care two hoots about tomorrow.

I had my first drink on Millennium Eve, thinking it might cure my crippling shyness, help me get a date. That was Trigger Number One - loneliness, insecurity.

A glass of wine didn't cure my diffidence, not really, but it gave me something to do in the evening, something to hold....

....last year, faced with financial ruin, I drank half a bottle in one go. That was a first. I felt better - ooh, another first. This is nice. Wow. I can sleep. Yay. Who cares that I have no money?....

....of course, I woke up, depressed, at 3am, my body craving more booze. A cycle had been set in motion....

Now? The bottle is my only friend. It's so festive with its bubbles, so merry. The pop makes you feel you're at a party of one. It's not that without it, life just doesn't seem worth living. Without it, life is impossible.

Now, we know how that feels, don't we?

And we know it's a vicious circle: you drink because life is difficult. The drink makes life more difficult. You drink because life is difficult. Ad infinitum.

So, whatever you may think about Liz Jones, I say WELL DONE, and THANK YOU. For being so honest about an issue few women will admit to their closest friends, let alone the whole country.

I had a look at the comments posted online to see how Liz's article had been received. There were 1,400 of them before the website stopped taking any more.

The worst rated comments were along the lines of this one: "Hopefully she'll drink herself to death. Sad old soak."

But here's an example of one of the best rated comments: "I'm sure that there will be people who will criticise you for writing this Liz, but for every one of them there will be many, many more who identify with what you've said and now feel less alone. Thank you for your bravery."

And so say all of us.

I do hope that rather than just printing her article, and enjoying the attention it receives, Liz's editor makes sure she gets help.

I've put Liz's name in the title of this post in the hope that she Googles herself and comes across this blog, because one thing is clear - she needs friends.

(To read Liz's full article, and the reader's comments click here).

Love SM x

Well Off Women More Likely to Drink

A few days ago the Daily Mail printed an article entitled 'Why well off women are more likely to have a problem with alcohol.' (Click here for full article)

According to new research, the richest twenty percent of women are three times as likely to drink almost every day than those on lower incomes.

Experts blame this trend on a workplace culture that encourages drinking, and our habit of 'unwinding' over a bottle of wine in the evening (hands up if you're familiar with that one!)

Two thirds of women in the top fifth earning households drink at least once a week (only two thirds?), and one sixth drink at least five times a week.

The research also shows that the biggest drinkers amongst women are the 45-65 age group, not the 'reckless' teens.

Dr Niall Campbell, an expert in alcohol addiction at the Priory in South West London, says: ‘My concern is women are now treating wine like chocolate. It’s no longer an occasional treat but part of a daily habit. It’s created an atmosphere whereby women who once enjoyed a glass of wine in an evening now finish a bottle and sometimes open another one.'

 

None of this is a surprise to me, or, I suspect, to any of you.

 

Back in the very early days of this blog I wrote a post entitled 'Why so many well educated, middle aged women drink too much' (click here to read).

 

(My titles have got a bit snappier since then)

 

We really are not alone.

I'm sure, also, that all this research must underestimate the issue. After all who ever tells the truth when asked how much they drink? Certainly not any of us!

 

And yesterday I noticed that this blog has now had more than a quarter of a million page views since I started it in March. Given that I don't exactly advertise it, that's a hell of a lot of people actively searching for help....

 

Last week I bumped into an old work colleague. We started reminiscing about the glory days of advertising in the early '90's. The bar in the office, the long, liquid lunches, the huge expense accounts, the Hockney's on the walls, and the lavish Christmas parties (we were banned from the Ritz the year we ended up dancing on the tables to Gary Glitter. Before he was outed as a paedophile, obviously).

 

He told me that he still attends an annual lunch for retired directors. Traditionally extremely boozy affairs. This year, however, he was the only one drinking.

 

Had they all reformed and decided to get fit? Hell no. They all had cirrhosis!

 

Daily, and excessive, drinking has become completely normalised amongst my age group and my 'income bracket'. And it is a ticking time bomb.

 

I had a look at the comments on the Daily Mail article to see of there was any sense of concern among the readers. You know what the most 'liked' comment was?

 

I drink every night to celebrate not being poor. Cheers!

 

And this one: It's because we have more money. Now get off my land!

 

You have to laugh.

 

Love to you all,

 

SM x

 

We're in the News!

The front page of the UK's Daily Mail newspaper today reads "WARNING OVER MIDDLE-CLASS WOMEN DRINKERS." (If you want to read the full article click here)

Who knew? Well, all of us on this site, actually!

Apparently an OECD study has revealed that, in a study of 34 Western countries, the UK has the highest number of female graduates drinking 'hazardously' (20%, compared with only 10% of less educated women).

There is a direct link between your likelihood of being a problem drinker and the number of years you spent in education. Well that was three years at university well spent, wasn't it?

Mark Pearson of the OECD says "women are adopting men's drinking habits and they are not healthy...As women have moved into the labour market they have adapted to the male culture. Jobs where you can earn more are more likely to be jobs that have a lot of networking. It's the dark side of equality."

The study states that two thirds of alcohol in the UK is drunk by just 20% of adults. That proportion may have dropped since I quit 73 days ago. I swear my local off licence has seen a huge drop in profits.

The report also shows that the highest proportion of hazardous drinkers are in the 45-64 age group. Yep, that's me again (although only just, I hasten to add).

The OECD suggest that women with higher education tend to have more stressful jobs, more opportunities for socialisation and delayed pregnancies, all of which can lead to heavy drinking.

Apparently 'much of it is done at home, away from public view,' aided by supermarket online delivery services. Ocado: the neighbourhood drug dealer of the middle classes!

None of this is much surprise to me, or - I expect - to any of you. If you delve briefly into the sober blogosphere you'll see that the majority of authors, and readers, are middle aged women.

Many of us drank - heavily but 'normally' for decades thinking that it wasn't really a problem. Back then I would have looked at today's headline with interest, but without much concern.  But then, when we hit our forties something changed.

For me, looking back, the big shift at about the age of forty was the amount of 'headspace' taken up by my drinking. Until then I'd drunk a lot, but I only thought about drinking while I was actually doing it.

But then an increasingly constant, nagging voice appeared (we call her the 'wine witch'). She would say things like "better check to see if there's a spare bottle in the cupboard, just in case.....Have a couple of drinks before you go out so you don't need to drink too much when you get there.......Better not go to the nearest shop to buy wine, you went there yesterday.....Can I ask the air stewardess for an extra glass or will she think I'm a lush?......If the husband pours another glass there won't be enough left for me...."

Forget all the quizzes about how to know if you have a drink problem - if you immediately understand what we mean by the wine witch, you do.

We are the first generation of women whose mothers fought for equality. The ones who went to University and into top jobs and thought it our duty to keep up with the boys, and we're now hitting our forties.

How many of us are out there quietly drinking a bottle at home every night and fighting off the wine witch? Given that we all lie when asked how much we drink, I suspect that the OECD survey massively underestimates the issue.

But, hell, it's good to come top of something!

Onwards and upwards.

SM x

For more on this topic read: Why so many well educated, middle aged women drink too much, and Women and alcohol: a deadly relationship