Clearing the Decks

We overly enthusiastic imbibers tend to be masters of procrastination. Never do something today that can be put off until tomorrow.

This is partly because drinking (and the after effects of) takes up so much time, but it's also because we get so used to medicating away any inconvenient feelings - like anger, fear and boredom - that we start to avoid any inconvenient tasks as well.

I keep a running list on iPhone notes of things I have to do. It gets longer and shorter, but never entirely goes away. And I've realised that the problem with it is the number of really old tasks that I've become adept at ignoring.

Some of these I avoid because they are really hard. They'll take a long time (like the tax return), or a lot of courage (like sending the book to agents). But some are tiny little easy peasy ones that I've just taken an irrational dislike to.

The problem with all these ancient items clogging up the to do list is that they start to fester, to go toxic. It's like when a toddler drops a half eaten egg sandwich between the back seats of the car. After a while everything starts to smell.

You see, procrastination isn't just the thief of time - it's the stealer of serenity. Those tough jobs that you never get around to tackling are the ones that keep you awake in the small hours of the night, jeering at you.

So I have a new system. I used to make myself tackle at least three things on the list every day. But, obviously, I'd always do the easy ones.

Now I still do three a day, but one of them has to be a tricky bugger. Something from the dusty, cobwebby section of the list.

So slowly, slowly, one day at a time, just like quitting the booze, I'm clearing away all the toxic waste.

Which is why I found myself yesterday having a smear test (pap smear to you Americans).

That one had been on the list for nearly a whole year.

I hate smear tests. They're so undignified.  There you are, naked from the waist down, legs akimbo while the nurse - rootling around down there - starts making polite conversation about the weather (so British).

Plus, I'm aware that most men and women under the age of thirty five are totally unfamiliar with the concept of female pubic hair which they wax and bully into extinction.

I'm always terrified that the nurse will take one look at my neatly trimmed lady garden and run screaming from the examination room in horror.

But now it's done. All over. Expunged from the list. And it's like another little weight being removed from the shoulders.

If you've only just quit then don't worry about The List. Just wallow in a box set and eat cake. You're doing enough. But if you're out the other side then start clearing the decks. It's awesome.

Love SM x

The Escape Hatch

I can't thank you all enough for all your messages and e-mails yesterday. They made me cry. A lot. (In a good way). It felt like a global bear hug from a group of amazing, strong, warm, and kind people, and I am completely overwhelmed.

I am so sorry that I have not yet replied to any of them. Please forgive me.

For decades I have used booze as an escape hatch, a 'beam me up, Scotty' whenever I needed a fast exit from a hostile planet.

And yesterday I really needed an escape hatch, or a teleport.

A few months, maybe only a few weeks, ago, I would never have imagined I could get over a major hurdle without alcohol. I would have accepted that, in this instance, needs must. I would have decided to put the 'not drinking thing' on hold, and come back to it later when I'm feeling stronger.

But not yesterday. You see, the last (nearly) eight months have made me realise that there really is one thing harder than dealing with a major trauma without alcohol, and that's trying to do it with alcohol.

My last big health scare was about twelve years ago. I still remember it vividly. I drank my way through it. I managed to not think about it during waking hours (thanks to the escape hatch), but I'd wake up at 3am with the night horrors, then spend four hours tormenting myself.

Because of the constant escaping, I put everything off for as long as possible, thereby spinning the whole process out and making it far more painful than it needed to be (see my post on Procrastination).

If I had downed two bottles of wine yesterday (which I could have done very easily), then on top of all the general angst I would have had a truly awful night, followed by a day of doing nothing but hating myself and hating my situation.

Instead I managed to get five hours sleep. When I was awake I was anxious, but logical. As soon as the 'phone lines opened I called my GP and booked the first appointment on Monday morning. Then I called a knowledgeable friend and got the number of the best boob guy at the Royal Marsden, in case I need it. And I managed to do a good show of 'normal Mum' for the kids.

The reality is that the booze escape hatch is a bit like the one in a James Bond Movie. You think you've found an easy way out of the villain's lair, but you find yourself falling into an underground pool filled with hungry sharks.

I also discovered that it's true what they say about quitting booze giving you the strength and the tools to do anything. Because now I am one hell of a lot better at dealing with fear (see post on Anxiety and Courage). And banishing that voice in your head which constantly says you are going to die! is pretty much exactly the same as banishing the wine witch. The same distraction, visualisation and self care techniques work a treat.

I did do some macabre thinking. I had a long car journey today during which I planned my memorial service. It was just like my old game of deciding what I'd choose as my Desert Island Disks, but more morbid. (In case you're interested, I'm definitely having The Owl and the Pussycat as a reading, and will insist on them playing my song for Mr SM - Flowers in the Window by Travis).

(I also have to confess to drinking 6 Becks Blues and not eating anything. On the upside, I lost 2 pounds in 24 hours - yay!).

So, I'm fine. The odds, as many of you pointed out, are in my favour. But, if I end up with the short straw, I know that I am strong. I have you amazing people. I have one of the best cancer hospitals in the world just down the road. I can manage without hair if necessary. I can heal myself and help my Aunt too.

It's just a case of baby steps. One day at a time. Sound familiar?

If you're just starting out on this journey, then remember: you're not just changing your life by getting sober; you're also giving yourself the tools to deal with anything. And you never know when you might need them....

You rock. You are my rock.

SM x

Procrastination

CONGRATS to Kags on six months sober! Kags has been with me since the early days. She's got a new life, and a new puppy (see Dogs: A Sober Girl's Best Friend), and she rocks.

I don't regret many of the things I did in the drinking years.

For a start, a lot of it was - at the time - a great deal of fun. It was only the last two or three years that became dark.

I met some great people. I had some wonderful times. I got it all out of my system. Now I feel able to say "Been there. Done that. Time to move on."

I think - I hope - that I quit before I did too much damage. To myself, or to anyone else.  I know that was in the post. Had I carried on the way I was I'd have a lot more mess to clear up now.

Plus, crucially, if I hadn't lived through the darkest of the drinking years, then I wouldn't be here now.

I would have totally skipped over the need to do any self analysis (I would have carried on assuming that only Americans did that kind of stuff!). I'd still be viewing the world, and myself, from my narrow little box.

BUT, what I have realised is that it's not the things you do that you regret, it's the things you didn't do.

And this is the one that punches me in the stomach on a regular basis. I never, ever considered the missed opportunities while I was drinking, but now they haunt me.

What might I have done with my life if I hadn't lived so much of it anaesthetised?

I loved my years at University. But one moment still bugs me. It was the end of my first year. I had Part One exams coming up. I was loitering in the quad, probably with a cigarette in one hand (I was always smoking in those days), and plastic cup in the other (ditto, dinking).

A couple of my fellow students turned to me and said "Hey SM, it's all kicking off in Berlin. They're tearing the wall down - piece by piece. We've found cheap tickets and we're going to join in. You coming?"

I was tempted, but I was broke. I had work to do. I said no. I missed the chance to take part in a seminal moment of history.

I swore after that day, when I watched the television footage of the people destroying that hated monument, that I would never again fail to seize the day. And yet I've done it over and over and over again.

The days just slipped though my fingers like gains of sand.

When you're drinking, you don't realise that you're missing all the opportunities, because it's usually not big things you're turning down, they don't even come knocking. The issue is the endless procrastination.

It's the myriad of small things that you put off doing today in favour of having a drink instead. They wake you up again in the night, taunting you, but by the next day it's so easy to delay again.

Then, one day, you realise that all those little things put off have added up to whole years of life wasted. Procrastination really is the thief of time.

Here's a quote from Wayne Dyer: Procrastination is one of the most common and deadliest of diseases, and its toll on success and happiness is heavy.

So, as of yesterday all the children are back at school - yay! No more excuses.

Every day I am going to write a list of things I have to get done. The List will include some easy stuff (like planning and preparing the meals for the day), some horrible, annoying stuff (like paying some bills), some BIG stuff (like editing the first 3 chapters of the novel), and something for someone else (like sending a present to a friend who's unwell).

By the end of my first year sober I really want to get a publishing contract, I want to have #1's bedroom re-decorated and the cellar cleared, and I want to have helped #2 get up to speed with his school work.

Then who knows what I can do with Year 2......

I'll leave you with a Craig Brown (the Private Eye satirist, not the footballer) quote:

There's nothing wrong with procrastination. Or is there? I'll leave it to you to decide, but only if you have time...

SM x