Rather than discussing 'alcoholism' and 'disease', he referred to all addictions as maladaptive coping strategies.
This was a bit of a lightbulb moment for me.
The theory is that we human beings are not very good at dealing with the stresses and anxieties of every day life, and - as a result - we find various ways of coping, many of which are not healthy, and can turn into addictions.
This totally sums up how I used alcohol - as a handy little anaesthetic whenever I felt I needed a short away break from reality.
It also makes me feel less alone, because even those people who drink 'normally' often have their own maladaptive coping strategies - overeating, self harming, shopping, pornography, gambling, extra marital affairs, smoking, illegal, prescription or over the counter drugs, etcetera.
In fact, I'm sure there are very few people who don't have some bad habit that they turn to as a stress release.
The maladaptive coping strategy theory also explains why quitting booze is so much more complex a process than we expect, and why we so often fail.
I imagined that my life would go on pretty much as normal, just without the booze. Then I realised that not drinking is actually the easy bit. The tough bit was dealing with all the emotions that were suddenly exposed to the light, as if I'd brutally ripped off a sticking plaster.
If we don't find new coping strategies we will, inevitably, pick up the drink again.
Initially we tend to turn to strategies that mimic the one we're used to: drinking.
I used (and still do, to a lesser extent) alcohol free beer as a way of coping. And cake. It's part of the reason why many of us don't lose weight initially, despite dropping all those booze calories.
I used (and still do, to a lesser extent) alcohol free beer as a way of coping. And cake. It's part of the reason why many of us don't lose weight initially, despite dropping all those booze calories.
Over time, though, we find healthier coping strategies. Running, walking, mindfulness and meditation, hot baths, arts and crafts, reading, writing - whatever works.
This is, I believe, the proper definition of growing up: being able to cope with whatever life throws at you without looking immediately for a fire exit.
One coping strategy that many sober people rely on is yoga.
Now, I've done a bit of yoga over the years, with varying degrees of success and embarrassment (anyone else feel the urge to fart during a sun salutation?), but, strangely, not since I quit drinking.
Then I realised that, over the last few months, with all the stress of the cancer thing, all my muscles have become tighter and tighter. Everything is clenched.
One thing I miss about drinking isn't just the mental relaxation of those first few sips (gulps!) of wine at the end of the day, but the way you could feel your muscles relaxing - your jaw unclenching, teeth stop grinding, shoulders unwinding.
It struck me that I needed to find another way of doing that - of physically ironing out all those knots.
So I went to a yoga class. What took me so long?
Admittedly I felt like a pillock. I did a lot of wobbling. Falling over. Going left when everyone else was going right. And admiring everyone else's handstands from a sitting position.
BUT it's a wonderful way to stay in the moment and take your mind off any worries, and you come out feeling like you've been massaged for hours. Everything feels looser.
Tomorrow I have a check up with my oncologist. He does blood tests to check for cancer markers. I am horribly aware, that however unlikely it may be, there is a possibility that tomorrow's appointment could totally ruin the life I've so painstakingly put back together....
....so today I'm going to a yoga class.
Onwards, upwards and downward dogs.
SM x
