Because You're Worth It

This week's flower delivery

Shortly after I gave up drinking, I read a fabulous piece by my favourite journalist, Caitlin Moran. It was her letter to teenage girls. She wrote this:

Pretend you are your own baby. You would never cut that baby, or starve it, or overfeed it until it cried in pain, or tell it it was worthless.

Sometimes, girls have to be mothers to themselves. Your body wants to live – that’s all and everything it was born to do. Let it do that, in the safety you provide it. Protect it. That is your biggest job. To protect your skin, and heart.

Buy flowers – or if you are poor, steal one from someone’s garden; the world owes you that much at least: blossom – and put them at the end of the bed.

When you wake, look at it, and tell yourself you are the kind of person who wakes up and sees flowers.

This stops your first thought being, “I fear today. Today is the day maybe I cannot survive any more,” which I know is what you would otherwise think.

Thinking about blossom before you think about terror is what girls must always do, in the Bad Years.

Ever since I read those incredibly powerful words, I have spent the equivalent of two bottles of wine per week on having fresh flowers delivered to my house.

Every Tuesday, I wake up to find a box of incredible blooms sitting outside my front door. I bring them in, take them out, one by one, chop off the ends of the stems and arrange them in a vase, feeling like a 1950's housewife, and place them in the centre of my kitchen table.

Then, all week, I can tell myself that I am the kind of person who wakes up and sees fresh flowers. I remind myself what I've achieved. I tell myself that I deserve good things in my life. I feel grateful for the wonders of nature.

And the flowers make my family happy too. (I think. Perhaps they don't even notice them!)

So, if you've just quit the booze, think about how you might be able to spend some of the money you used to spend on your poison-of-choice in a way that could, every single day, remind you of how bloody amazing you are. And how wonderful life is.

If you have any good ideas, please tell us in the comments!

By the way, it really is worth reading the whole of that Caitlin Moran letter. It's as relevant to the middle-aged as it is to teenagers. She talks about how, in times of trouble, you should focus on just getting through the next minute - a hugely helpful trick if you're battling the wine witch.

So, I'm putting a video of Caitlin reading her letter on the SoberMummy Facebook page this evening. Also new on the page is the inspirational story of Tom Hardy, and what he managed to achieve after he dispatched his demons.

To visit the SoberMummy Facebook page click here. 'Like' the page to stay updated.

Love and flowers to you all,

SM x

Healing

We are back in the Swiss Alps. We arrived late last night, when it was dark, and we just caught glimpses of snow and the outline of the mountains in the light of a full moon from the windows of the taxi as we wound our way up to our chalet.

Now it's dawn and I'm watching the light change over the tops of the snow covered peaks, the village spread out below me, roofs covered in thick white duvets and street lamps still blinking in the half dark.

Everyone else is asleep. I'm hoping they won't wake up for a while as the cupboards and fridge are completely empty. As soon as the shops open I'll brave the cold and go out for coffee, juice, milk and freshly baked croissants.

The Swiss Alps used to be a full on party venue for me. They're now a healing place.

The last time we came here was three days after I finished radiotherapy (for breast cancer). The time before was four weeks after I quit drinking (see my post Sober in Switzerland).

My perspective has changed entirely since then, as if I were looking at the same mountain from a different aspect in a new season.

The first piste we ski when we come out here, our warm up run, is called Lac de Vaux. I saw a picture of it recently in the summer. Where the piste flattens out by the ski lift there's a beautiful shimmering blue lake, surrounded by lush green pastures. Of course, the lake is there all the time (the clue is in the name), I'd just never seen it before.

Back in the drinking days, life was about the evenings and the indoors: booze, long rambling conversations, letting the hair down, bars, clubs, dim lighting.

Now it's about mornings and the outdoors: waking up with energy and enthusiasm, long rambling walks, wind in the hair.

Back then it was all transmit: say your piece, shout to be heard, fight your corner. Now it's about receive: listen to what's being said, learn, grow, nurture.

I used to look at the mountains and see wildness and recklessness; now I see stillness and peace.

I don't regret my former life. It was, let's face it, a great deal of fun while it lasted, but I'm glad I moved on. It was time.

Love SM x

Carpe Diem?

I've spent an awful lot of time since I quit drinking thinking about the time I've wasted.

Time that I can't even remember. Time feeling 'under par'. Time squandered endlessly planning, and waiting for, the next drinking opportunity.

Because of this, and my recent brush with mortality, I've spent the last few months desperately trying to shovel as much into each day as I can - to carpe diem.

But today, in Cornwall, it's raining. Not cats and dogs, but a steady drizzle, a fine mist, like God's own giant Evian spritzer.

(Note that, in the same way that Eskimos have hundreds of words for 'snow', we Brits have many and varied ways to describe 'rain'.)

So I looked out of the window at the crashing waves and persistent precipitation and.....went back to bed with the newspaper.

The husband came in, took one look at me, and muttered "what's the opposite of 'carpe'?"

But the truth is that sometimes seizing the day means seizing the opportunity to do absolutely bugger all.

Hurrah!

Love SM x

Let Yourself Off

I've had a pretty tumultuous year, what with giving up a decades long booze habit, and then dealing with breast cancer. And you know what? In many ways the two experiences were similar.

Both involve going through the wringer physically. And then, by far the harder part, dealing with the emotional fall out.

In both cases you end up doing a lot of navel gazing. Who am I? What's important in my life? How did I end up here?

Both require you to dig really deep. To find strength you didn't know you had. And to totally re-write the image you have in your head of your future, which inevitably leads to a grieving process.

And, after all of that, you end up a slightly different person - more battered, but wiser, calmer, more philosophical and, possibly, spiritual. You rediscover your appreciation of life, family and the things that matter.

There are, however, some key differences.

One of the main ones is other people.

When you're going through all this change, and angst, and physical and emotional battery as a result of cancer treatment, people fall over themselves to help you. It's almost too much.

Any time it gets on top of you, you're exhausted or just can't cope, all you have to do is raise a little finger and there's a stampede of people offering to collect your children from school or make you a casserole.

Plus, you can (as Mr SM called it) play the cancer card.

Regular readers will know that I played the cancer card to get off a parking ticket. And it was hugely helpful when I just didn't have the strength to do one of those additional jobs we mums get lumbered with constantly.

For example, I remember getting an e-mail just after my diagnosis asking if I could run one of the stalls at the school Christmas Fete (known in our family as the fete worse than death).

I sent an e-mail to the fete committee which went something like this:

Dear Ladies,

As you know, I am usually very happy to help with school events, however in this instance I'm afraid I have to say 'no'.

I have breast cancer, so am rather busy. Sure you understand.

Good luck with the fete! I'll send Mr SM and the smalls along to buy lots more plastic tat for the playroom.

Love SM

P.S. Isn't that just the Best Excuse Ever?

The problem with giving up drinking is that, as so many of us do it secretly, we don't get to play the sober card.

You can't say sorry, I'm not hosting the class party/having your children for a sleepover/taking on more responsibility and stress at work, because right now I need some space to concentrate on not drinking.

No-one's rallying around to help with the kids and cook your family meals so that you can go to bed early with a copy of Jason Vale.


So, here's my plea to you: Let yourself off.

If no-one's rallying around to help you, you need to help yourself.

Treat the early days of quitting like having an illness (which it is).

Give yourself a reasonable time to recover (100 days?), and in that time let yourself off anything which is too hard, and which'll make you want to reach for the booze.

For me it meant not cooking evening meals for a while. Instead I'd eat fish fingers with the children early and leave Mr SM to forage in the fridge. That gave me space at wine o'clock to go for a run, or have a hot bath, or read the sober blogs.

If (and I'm thinking of you, Annie), you find getting through the first five days really tough, then pretend you have 'flu. Go to bed with lots of chocolate, the laptop and some good books, and don't come out until you're strong enough.

Here's a secret: The world will not fall apart.

You are making a huge investment in your future health and happiness, and that of your family, so a few weeks of dropping balls and not living up to your usual standards is well worth it.

Don't take on any voluntary jobs. Don't feel obliged to turn up to any social events unless you really want to. Don't see anyone who stresses you out. There's plenty of time for all of that later.

Be your own support group.

(And we're all here to support you too. Although I'm afraid the service doesn't stretch to delivering casseroles).

Love SM x

Look After Yourself

I was reading an article about mental health, when I came across this expression:

You have to look after yourself before you can look after the rest of the world.

It sounds obvious, but - to be honest - it was a bit of a light bulb moment for me.

You see, we all run around madly trying to earn money, bring up our children, look after our parents, the dog, and - somewhere along the line - squeeze in the odd 'date night', and there just isn't enough time to look after ourselves.

I feel guilty if I even sit down, let alone take time out for a massage or a pedicure.

I'm actually rather thrilled that my hair is going grey (fyi, American friends, that's not a typo, it's the correct spelling of grey. See also colour), because I'm forced to go to the hairdresser every six weeks to have it coloured (never say dye), which means that I have to sit still for nearly two hours. Bliss.

Then I saw that line in my magazine and thought, hang on a minute. I've got it all back to front!

You see, I used to run around like a whirling dervish, doing all that stuff. By the end of the day I'd be shattered and stressed, so I would reward myself with...... you guessed it.... a bucket of vino. Which would mean that I'd start the next day already below par and exhuasted. Repeat, ad infinitum.

Actually, what we should be doing is 'rewarding ourselves' in advance. We need to make sure that we are properly healthy, rested and relaxed before we can look after the rest of the world.

It's NOT an indulgence, it's actually just good common sense. It's obligatory. It's part of your job description.

It's a bit like the safety briefing on an airplane when they tell you "In the event of the oxygen levels in the cabin falling, oxygen masks will be provided. Make sure you fit your own mask before helping your child."

They know that your instinct is to help your child first, but you will be entirely useless if you can't breathe.

I know what you're thinking: It's all very well, SM, but I don't have the time or the money to look after myself.

Nonsense. How much time did you spend drinking or hungover? How much money did you spend on booze? Just take a proportion of that time and that cash, and make sure you do something good for yourself.

(See my post: The Concept of Self Care written when I was on Day 52, and badly in need of a pick me up)

On that note, I went to the gym yesterday, for the first time since the cancer thing. I spent an hour doing a full on aerobics session with ladies half my age, then came home and had a good long soak in the bath (because my muscles had seized up and I could barely walk).

There are recent studies that show that aerobic exercise is one of the most effective ways of reducing cancer recurrence rates (or avoiding cancer in the first place). So, it wasn't an indulgence - it was a way of ensuring my children have me around to help look after their children. Medicinal.

So, don't leave 'self care' to the bottom of the list, when you might be able to squeeze a bit in after doing all the other 'more important' things. Schedule it. Make it a priority. Not for you, but for everyone else in your life.

Love SM x

THREE MONTHS SOBER!

First thing this morning, still lying in bed, I celebrated 3 months by playing 'Sober' by Kelly Clarkson (here's a link).

Three months and I'm still sober.
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers.
But I know it's never really over

And I don't know
I could crash and burn but maybe
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me.

Well, I've picked a load of weeds - both literally (see Gardening) and metaphorically, and found flowers that I didn't even know were there. I've caught not just glimpses, but whole chunks of me.

Anyhow, half way through Kelly the husband stuck his head round the bathroom door and yelled "What's all the terrible caterwauling? Can we have the Today programme back on please?" Back to real life.

The children went back to school yesterday after ten days of half term. Ten days of non stop running around - entertaining kids, entertaining friends, constant cooking, clearing up, cleaning, revision (exams this week), playdates, dog walks etcetera etcetera.

Two things struck me:

(1) I am a better mother.

Still not a great one, but a better one. Without the low level hangovers, the itchy angst waiting for 'wine o'clock', or the blurry, distracted partial drunkenness, I am more patient, more even tempered and more present.

That may not sound like a major revolution, but if you've spent any time with small children you'll know that being (properly) present, patient and even tempered is the sine qua non for a good day.

(2) You've got to have 'me time.'

I hate the expression 'me time.' It was all over our creative briefs in my ad agency in the 1990s, resulting in loads of advertisements showing women wrapped in fluffy towels with cucumber slices over their eyes, or soaking in bubble baths surrounded by candles.

"Oh for f**ks sake!" I'd yell silently. "Haven't these women got anything better to do?" It seemed, to me, terribly self indulgent, and a total waste of time.

Perhaps no surprise then that I ended up using alcohol as a way of switching off. And I wasted way more time and money getting drunk than I would have spent slathered in a face mask having a massage once a week!

Anyhow, I suspect that part of the reason for my attack of the PAWS (see Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome) a few days ago was that half term madness had given me no 'me time' at all.

Our bodies and our minds go through a major upheaval and healing process when we give up alcohol, and increasingly I understand why people say that you have to 'be kind to yourself'. They also talk about 'self care' being crucial.

Even if we don't feel like we're doing an awful lot, we are exhausted by the silent physical and mental effort of not drinking.

So yesterday, for an hour, I ignored the mounting chores and paperwork and lay down (yes! Horizontally! In the afternoon!) with a novel. I read for half an hour and dozed for half an hour, and today I feel fabulous.

Three months and I'm still sober. Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers.

Love to you all.

SM x

The concept of 'self care'

Spoiler alert: this post is entirely shallow, frivolous and self indulgent.

I have come across the expression 'self care' in many of the articles, books and books that I've read.

Here, on day 52 of the sobercoaster, where it's all a bit bleak and a little 'is this all there is to life?' it is, apparently, important to exercise some self care.

I'm pretty sure that self care is all about healthy nutrition and exercise - beginning to repair the ravages caused by years of 'lack of self care'. When drinking (a lot), we also tend to eat badly, and who on earth wants to exercise with a hangover?

I do now feel so much more 'in tune' with my body - having, literally, drowned out all it's natural signals for years, I'm now aware of when I'm properly hungry and thirsty (for water, not alcohol!). I have loads more energy for exercising too, plus it's a great way to take your mind off the not drinking thing.

But I have broadened the definition of self care to include a little 'self indulgence'. Hell, I think I deserve a bit of that by now.

I sat down for the first time ever, and calculated how much I used to spend on wine. I didn't drink cheap plonk. In my head, if the wine cost over £10 a bottle it made you a connoisseur as opposed to a common old garden lush.

So I spent, on average, about £12.50 per bottle. And I drank (this is a conservative estimate) about ten bottles a week. That's £125 per week! More than £500 per month! That is a MASSIVE proportion of my total housekeeping budget.

I must have been aware of how much I was spending (I have a degree in Economics for God's sake!), but because it was filed in the 'total necessity' part of my brain I never stopped to question it. There I was, week in, week out in the supermarket looking for the buy-one-get-one-free offers and swapping expensive brands for own labels, and yet I was spending more than £500 per month, £6,000 per year on booze!

That's the terribly, awfully, embarrassingly bad news. Here's the good news:

I have now saved myself £500 a month!

Yay! Go girl. Let's shop! Here's where the 'self care' comes in:

Every week I now buy fresh flowers for my house (1 bottle of wine)
Last week I had a fabulous pedicure (orange toenails - how spring-like is that?!) (2 bottles of wine)
Right now there is a really lovely cheerful lady spring cleaning my house! (4 bottles of wine)
Next week I'm going to a big charity ball so have booked a professional blow dry (2 bottles of wine)

That all adds up to three weeks of self-indulgence, a really clean house filled with fresh flowers, and a well groomed SoberMummy for the same cost as one week's wine. The other £250 saving is, sensibly, going to help pay off the overdraft.

Over the last few years I have not bothered very much with 'grooming'. All that waxing, tweazing, tanning, blow-drying nonsense was way down the pecking order compared with buying, and drinking, wine. Plus I was so grumpy, bloated and lacking in self respect that whenever I did do any of that stuff it felt (to steal a phrase from Sarah Palin) like putting lipstick on a pig.

But now I'm feeling just a little bit sexier. I have more time. I have more cash. So now, dear friends, I'm saying 'farewell, ugly ducking, and hello swan!'

Love to you all.

SM x