Day 53! Over the last week I've become obsessed by imagery from the Wizard of Oz. I've managed to work out why. Please stick with me here, I promise there's a really valid point to all this!
Remember the bleak, lonely, black and white Kansas in the opening of the Wizard of Oz? That's the drinking days. Slowly, slowly, sip by sip, all the colour is gradually leeched out, and you look around you and think "how the hell did this happen?"
So you make a monumental decision: I have to stop drinking. The initial few days are a physical whirlwind - a tornado. You're all tetchy and restless and everything goes a little haywire - your sleep, digestion, energy levels and emotions are all inside out and upside down.
Then, the tornado clears and you discover that you've landed in an amazing place - Oz. This is the 'honeymoon' (sometimes called 'pink cloud') phase that I've written about a lot already. All the colours are brighter, your senses are heightened, there's a feeling that anything is possible. You wonder why on earth you never came here before.
But before too long you realise that Oz isn't all it seems. You don't know the rules, you're not sure how to navigate the landscape. The brightness is actually a bit scary and there's a sharpness, an edge, that you're not used to dealing with. (This is around week 6 or 7, when a lot of people seem to fall off the wagon).
And, the most frightening thing about Oz? The Wicked Wine Witch of the West who is constantly out to get you.
Now I get to play Dorothy. I know that's not entirely fair or democratic, but it's my blog and I have to get some perks. But I'm not wearing that ghastly gingham dress, or doing the plaits. The expression 'mutton dressed as lamb' springs to mind. I'm wearing a floaty Alice Temperley dress, and the hair is loose with a Kate Middleton style blow dry (by the way, is it true that you Americans say 'blow job' instead of 'blow dry', or is someone winding me up? A blow job means something entirely different on this side of the pond....)
Tallaxo gets to be the lion as he's the only bloke who's so far volunteered for a speaking part on this blog. (What are you all - men or mice? It is not statistically likely that 17,000 page views are all female. Come on out of the drinks closet and join the conversation!) Plus, I suspect that Tallaxo looks like Colin Firth. Don't you just love putting imaginary faces to the names?
So, now we've discovered how scary Oz actually is, we find ourselves some friends and together we follow the sober brick road, because we've been assured that at the end of it is the Wizard, and the Wizard can give us freedom.
As we make our way on our journey, holding hands and singing, we realise that we're having to cope with emotions and stuff that we've never really dealt with before - or at least not since we started drinking a lot. We find that, like the lion, scarecrow and tin man, there's bits we're missing - a heart, a brain, courage, whatever, and we want the Wizard to fix us and transport us to the sober nirvana.
Tragically, when we get to the end of the road we find that the wizard isn't there. He never was. He was a figment of our imagination. But, you know what? By then we no longer need him. Because, in our long journey, brick by sober brick, along the road, we've been learning how to deal with all the emotions and stuff.
Oz is no longer scary and sharp, and we've managed to dissolve the Wicked Wine Witch of the West with a bucket of water (she was well and truly sozzled). We don't need to be transported anywhere else, because we find that, actually, we're already here, and it's amazing!
At least that is, I hope, how the story ends. Right now I'm still tripping along that sober brick road with you, my friends.
Have a great day in Oz!
Love SM x
Related post: the sober rollercoaster
Showing posts with label honeymoon phase. Show all posts
Showing posts with label honeymoon phase. Show all posts
Thursday, 23 April 2015
Monday, 20 April 2015
5 things I've discovered after 50 DAYS sober
50 DAYS! Who'd have thought it? And there's no-one I can celebrate with who'll understand apart from YOU LOT! So Yay! Go me!
I thought that I'd done a couple of months sober back in the summer of 2013, but when I went back through my old diary with my honest hat on, I realised that I started having the 'odd glass or three' after only 35 days, and within 2 months I was back to square one.
That means that this is my longest sober period since I was about sixteen years old. And that includes my 3 pregnancies.(In those days British obstetricians were very relaxed about a couple of glasses of wine a week).
To mark the occasion I've been thinking about what I've discovered over the last 50 days. Here are 5 things:
1. Not drinking changes everything.
I'd thought that when you stop drinking your life carries on as normal, but just without drink in it. Not the case! When you take drink out of your life everything changes.
For me, it's like when I first became a mother. I thought that I, and my life, would be just the same but with a lovely, gorgeous baby along for the ride. In actual fact, you change fundamentally once you have a baby - your priorities, your perspective, your relationships, your body and your emotions. And the same is true when you take drink out of your life, which is why it's such a huge adjustment.
2. It's difficult to do it alone.
...which is why AA has saved the lives of so many.
When I gave up smoking I announced it to the world, so I had constant support and encouragement. One of the main reasons that I (eventually) succeeded was because I couldn't face letting down the family and friends who'd been so helpful.
But the shame of being an 'alcoholic' (can't believe I used the 'a' word), is such that we do it quietly. And it's oh so easy to 'quietly' start drinking again. We just announce that we've had our two months off and now we are re-joining the merry band of drinkers. Rather than being disappointed in us, our friends are actually rather relieved.
I still can't face the idea of AA, or of 'coming out', so you - my wonderful, faceless inter-web posse, are my support. A number of times when I've reached out for the bottle, chilled, inviting, and oh so accessible, I've stopped myself because I couldn't face either posting an admission, or lying to you by omission. You have kept me on the straight and narrow, and I am humongously grateful.
3. It's a journey, not a immediate transformation.
When you only give up for a month (dry January, sober October etc) you don't get a proper sense of the sober journey - the ups and downs of the 'sobercoaster'. But like bereavement, or (again) motherhood, there are distinct phases.
Now I totally get the theory of the 'honeymoon' phase. I spent the first 6 weeks in a 'happy land'. In retrospect, it was very much like the land of the Lorax, before the Once-ler got busy making sneeds. It was all candy coloured Truffula trees, and happy, frolicking Brown Barbaloots.
I'm now climbing The Wall. And it's not a low, crumbling Cornish dry stone wall covered in blackberries that you can easily see over. Oh no. It's a giant wall of ice - like in the Game of Thrones. It's a monotonous slog of one hand, followed by the other. Left foot followed by right.
But I know that 'something better' lies over the other side of that wall. And when I get there, I'll let you know what it is.
4. The obsession gets worse before it gets better.
One of the worst things about alcohol addiction is the constant inner dialogue about drinking. It goes on and on, checking what's available in your fridge or your cupboard, where/when you can buy more, how you can avoid anyone spotting how much you're drinking yada yada yada.
I'd thought that not drinking would, pretty quickly, shut up the inner addict. But it's still there, it's just that now it's obsessed with not drinking. I may not be talking to friends and family about it, but my internal monologue is boring me to death. And it makes me spend at least a couple of hours a day blogging about not drinking and reading about not drinking. I'm still waiting for the 'clear headspace' which I only experience in small bursts - a tiny promise of what, I hope, is to come.
5. Everyone is different.
From everything I've read over the last 50 days, it strikes me that every drinker is different. I've been desperate (as many of us are, I think), to find the answer. I want a definition of what I am, what my 'problem' is, and, therefore, what the solution is.
There do seem to be huge consistencies - for example, we all seem to associate with the idea of the 'wine witch' - the devil on our shoulder. But how we got here, our specific drinking patterns, and what made us want to stop all varies.
I've always found it tempting to read other people's stories and use them as justification - I never did x, y or z - therefore I am not a 'proper alcoholic' and 'I do not need to stop.' Yet now I see that other people could easily read my story and feel that, in many ways, I was 'worse' than them.
I'm sorry that this is not an overwhelmingly cheerful post. Believe me, the longer I spend on the sobercoaster the more convinced I am that it's the right place to be. But I am more 'grown up' and realistic than I was in the pink cloud days. Now I see this sober thing as a work in progress - but I am progressing.
Onwards and upwards sober friends, and HAPPY SOBER BIRTHDAY TALLAXO (possibly my only bloke reader. Any others lurking???)!
SM x
I thought that I'd done a couple of months sober back in the summer of 2013, but when I went back through my old diary with my honest hat on, I realised that I started having the 'odd glass or three' after only 35 days, and within 2 months I was back to square one.
That means that this is my longest sober period since I was about sixteen years old. And that includes my 3 pregnancies.(In those days British obstetricians were very relaxed about a couple of glasses of wine a week).
To mark the occasion I've been thinking about what I've discovered over the last 50 days. Here are 5 things:
1. Not drinking changes everything.
I'd thought that when you stop drinking your life carries on as normal, but just without drink in it. Not the case! When you take drink out of your life everything changes.
For me, it's like when I first became a mother. I thought that I, and my life, would be just the same but with a lovely, gorgeous baby along for the ride. In actual fact, you change fundamentally once you have a baby - your priorities, your perspective, your relationships, your body and your emotions. And the same is true when you take drink out of your life, which is why it's such a huge adjustment.
2. It's difficult to do it alone.
...which is why AA has saved the lives of so many.
When I gave up smoking I announced it to the world, so I had constant support and encouragement. One of the main reasons that I (eventually) succeeded was because I couldn't face letting down the family and friends who'd been so helpful.
But the shame of being an 'alcoholic' (can't believe I used the 'a' word), is such that we do it quietly. And it's oh so easy to 'quietly' start drinking again. We just announce that we've had our two months off and now we are re-joining the merry band of drinkers. Rather than being disappointed in us, our friends are actually rather relieved.
I still can't face the idea of AA, or of 'coming out', so you - my wonderful, faceless inter-web posse, are my support. A number of times when I've reached out for the bottle, chilled, inviting, and oh so accessible, I've stopped myself because I couldn't face either posting an admission, or lying to you by omission. You have kept me on the straight and narrow, and I am humongously grateful.
3. It's a journey, not a immediate transformation.
When you only give up for a month (dry January, sober October etc) you don't get a proper sense of the sober journey - the ups and downs of the 'sobercoaster'. But like bereavement, or (again) motherhood, there are distinct phases.
Now I totally get the theory of the 'honeymoon' phase. I spent the first 6 weeks in a 'happy land'. In retrospect, it was very much like the land of the Lorax, before the Once-ler got busy making sneeds. It was all candy coloured Truffula trees, and happy, frolicking Brown Barbaloots.
I'm now climbing The Wall. And it's not a low, crumbling Cornish dry stone wall covered in blackberries that you can easily see over. Oh no. It's a giant wall of ice - like in the Game of Thrones. It's a monotonous slog of one hand, followed by the other. Left foot followed by right.
But I know that 'something better' lies over the other side of that wall. And when I get there, I'll let you know what it is.
4. The obsession gets worse before it gets better.
One of the worst things about alcohol addiction is the constant inner dialogue about drinking. It goes on and on, checking what's available in your fridge or your cupboard, where/when you can buy more, how you can avoid anyone spotting how much you're drinking yada yada yada.
I'd thought that not drinking would, pretty quickly, shut up the inner addict. But it's still there, it's just that now it's obsessed with not drinking. I may not be talking to friends and family about it, but my internal monologue is boring me to death. And it makes me spend at least a couple of hours a day blogging about not drinking and reading about not drinking. I'm still waiting for the 'clear headspace' which I only experience in small bursts - a tiny promise of what, I hope, is to come.
5. Everyone is different.
From everything I've read over the last 50 days, it strikes me that every drinker is different. I've been desperate (as many of us are, I think), to find the answer. I want a definition of what I am, what my 'problem' is, and, therefore, what the solution is.
There do seem to be huge consistencies - for example, we all seem to associate with the idea of the 'wine witch' - the devil on our shoulder. But how we got here, our specific drinking patterns, and what made us want to stop all varies.
I've always found it tempting to read other people's stories and use them as justification - I never did x, y or z - therefore I am not a 'proper alcoholic' and 'I do not need to stop.' Yet now I see that other people could easily read my story and feel that, in many ways, I was 'worse' than them.
I'm sorry that this is not an overwhelmingly cheerful post. Believe me, the longer I spend on the sobercoaster the more convinced I am that it's the right place to be. But I am more 'grown up' and realistic than I was in the pink cloud days. Now I see this sober thing as a work in progress - but I am progressing.
Onwards and upwards sober friends, and HAPPY SOBER BIRTHDAY TALLAXO (possibly my only bloke reader. Any others lurking???)!
SM x
Thursday, 16 April 2015
The sobercoaster
Day 46, and, as is obvious from my two posts yesterday, I'm on a real emotional rollercoaster at the moment.
I've heard people talk about the 'honeymoon period' of sobriety, so I looked it up. There are, it seems, several stages of 'recovery'. The 'honeymoon period' is characterised by feelings of confidence and optimism about your life and a sense of well-being and being in control. Oh yeah, baby, that was me!
Sadly, the phase which follows 'honeymoon' is called 'the wall', and generally runs from around day 46-120. Day 46!!! That's exactly where I am! How irritatingly predictable I seem to be.
'The wall' phase is all about boredom, depression and questioning. Oh God - that doesn't sound much fun!
I remember Mrs D, In Mrs D is Going Without, talking about the end of the 'pink cloud' phase being followed by a period of doing lots of weeping.
As 'enthusiastic drinkers' we are used to blurring all our emotions, and now we have to get used to facing up to them, all raw and clear and sharp edged.
I feel very much like I did in the first few weeks after #1 was born. Initially I freaked out - they expect me to be responsible for this baby with no experience? With no user manual? Are they crazy? What if I kill her? Very much like my initial panic about stopping drinking.
Then you go through those blissful, cloud like first 3 weeks where you're all loved up and cossetted. Everyone's there to help. The baby's asleep all the time. You're inundated with flowers and presents and happy hormones. You think 'I am earth mother. I am a natural. This is a walk in the park.'
That's been my last few weeks. Pink cloud. Honeymoony loveliness (relatively speaking).
Then the lack of sleep kicks in. Husband goes back to work, the visits dry up, the baby gets colic and you feel overwhelmed, exhausted and lonely. You ask your husband to buy a cabbage as the leaves are supposed to help with mastitis and he comes home with a cauliflower! (That actually happened to me). Divorce beckons.
That stage is The Wall. That's where I am now.
How high is it? How wide is it? What's on the other side?
Huge thanks for your comments on my last post - they really helped, and I love you all.
SM x
I've heard people talk about the 'honeymoon period' of sobriety, so I looked it up. There are, it seems, several stages of 'recovery'. The 'honeymoon period' is characterised by feelings of confidence and optimism about your life and a sense of well-being and being in control. Oh yeah, baby, that was me!
Sadly, the phase which follows 'honeymoon' is called 'the wall', and generally runs from around day 46-120. Day 46!!! That's exactly where I am! How irritatingly predictable I seem to be.
'The wall' phase is all about boredom, depression and questioning. Oh God - that doesn't sound much fun!
I remember Mrs D, In Mrs D is Going Without, talking about the end of the 'pink cloud' phase being followed by a period of doing lots of weeping.
As 'enthusiastic drinkers' we are used to blurring all our emotions, and now we have to get used to facing up to them, all raw and clear and sharp edged.
I feel very much like I did in the first few weeks after #1 was born. Initially I freaked out - they expect me to be responsible for this baby with no experience? With no user manual? Are they crazy? What if I kill her? Very much like my initial panic about stopping drinking.
Then you go through those blissful, cloud like first 3 weeks where you're all loved up and cossetted. Everyone's there to help. The baby's asleep all the time. You're inundated with flowers and presents and happy hormones. You think 'I am earth mother. I am a natural. This is a walk in the park.'
That's been my last few weeks. Pink cloud. Honeymoony loveliness (relatively speaking).
Then the lack of sleep kicks in. Husband goes back to work, the visits dry up, the baby gets colic and you feel overwhelmed, exhausted and lonely. You ask your husband to buy a cabbage as the leaves are supposed to help with mastitis and he comes home with a cauliflower! (That actually happened to me). Divorce beckons.
That stage is The Wall. That's where I am now.
How high is it? How wide is it? What's on the other side?
Huge thanks for your comments on my last post - they really helped, and I love you all.
SM x
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