Getting to 100 Days

If you quit drinking around New Year, then right about now you should be getting to 100 days!

Huge congratulations to SFM, Justonemore, Dr C and my e-mail friend CB for doing just that. Awesome work, my friends.

I looked back at the post I wrote on my own centenary (click here).

The reason 100 days is so significant is not just because it's a pretty number with three digits. It's a massive achievement.

One hundred one-days-at-a-time. Hundreds of battles with the wine witch. Endless sitting on your hands, gritting your teeth and mainlining hot chocolate.

The other reason it's so significant, is that for many of us, the 100 day mark was about when it started getting easier.

There's no immediate change. Everything on this journey happens slowly, slowly. BUT there will come a day, around that point, when you realise that you're not thinking about booze any more.

It's like being stuck in a cell for years, then discovering a window you've never spotted before and, through it, glimpsing freedom.

There will still be cravings. There will still be dark days. There will be episodes of PAWS. BUT you start to realise what it's all been for.

Leonard Cohen wrote:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

And that, for me, is how 100 days feels.

(By the way, here's what Leonard Cohen said about drugs: The recreational, the obsessional and the pharmaceutical - I've tried them all. I would be enthusiastically promoting any one of them if they worked.)

You've spent more than three months discovering all the cracks that you used to fill by pouring booze into them (not realising that it was only running out the bottom). You become painfully aware of how imperfect you are....

...but then, around day 100, the light starts to get in. And it all makes sense.

And you realise that without the preceding darkness, you'd never have appreciated the simple beauty of those shafts of light.

And you find that your cracks, your imperfections, are what make you strong and beautiful. They give you wisdom, resilience and empathy.

Once that light gets in, you never want to go back to the endless, oppressive gloom. And that makes the next 100 days so much easier.

So, welcome to the field of bunnies, all you wonderful, strong 100 dayers.

(If you've not heard of the field of bunnies, and want to know how to get there, then click here).

You rock. All of you. Whether you're on Day 100, or Day 1.

SM x

P.S. If you'd like to receive my posts by e-mail, then go to the full website (if you're reading this on a mobile device, scroll to the bottom of the screen and click on 'View web version'), then go to the top right of the home screen and you'll see a box labelled want to follow by Email? Just put your e-mail address in there (it won't be seen by, or shared with, anyone) and click Submit.

8 MONTHS SOBER!

I quit drinking eight months and two days ago. Since then my whole life has changed in more ways than you can imagine.

I went back and re-read some of the milestone posts along the way and thought I'd compile some highlights of the journey.

Here you go (if you click on any of the headings, you'll get the full post):

100 days sober

What could I have told myself 100 days ago? I could have given her a list something like this:

1. You will sleep more, and better, than you've done in years, but will be more tired than you can imagine.

2. You will discover that hot chocolate has magical healing powers, and that there really is a point to alcohol free beer.

3. You will feel ten years older and wiser, but look five years younger.

4. You will have to start to hate yourself before you can learn to love yourself again.

5. You will discover a passion for cleaning, tidying, weeding, sorting and clearing out - both literally and metaphorically.

6. You will obsessively read everything you can find about alcohol, alcoholism, and anything else beginning with 'alc'.

7. You will find that some of the really big hurdles (like parties) can be easy, but some of the small things (everyday stresses and upsets) can be terribly hard.

8. You'll find that that knot of anxiety you lived with for years was caused by the drink, not solved by it. Your best friend was actually your worst enemy.

9. You will become an obsessive navel gazer (not to be confused with a naval gazer - someone who stares at seamen). You'll constantly wrestle with questions like 'Who am I? Who was I? How did I get here? Where am I going?'

10. You will meet some incredible fellow travellers along the way. People who will make you laugh, cry and think. Hugely strong, brave and inspirational people sharing your journey.

Four months sober

The first few weeks did make an immediate difference. I was less puffy, I had clearer skin, shiny hair. I was sleeping brilliantly. I was less toxic.

But the changes kept coming. Now my whole being feels different.

It's like everything is starting to work together better. My body tells me when it's tired, or hungry. I get cravings for food that I later discover contain nutrients I need (see my post on PAWS and vitamin B).

If I drink a bottle of cold water on a hot day I can feel my cells re-hydrate. And, most intense of all, I feel all my emotions (anxiety, anger, elation, boredom etc) and am learning how to deal with them.

Perhaps most people are this in tune with their bodies and minds all the time. Perhaps they take it for granted. Maybe it's only because I lost the ability for so long that I see it as so miraculous.

Six months sober

Now I realise that you use 'one day at a time' until you no longer need it. It's there to stop you worrying about forever (which, in the words of Prince is a very long time) until you can cope with it.

And now, my friends, I can.

Now, after six months, I can truly see myself never drinking again. It doesn't scare me. At all. It's liberating. Exciting. Miraculous.

I'm not, I hope, being smug, or over confident. I'm totally aware how easy it is to fall off the wagon and end up back at Day One. I read stories about people like me doing just that all the time.

I also know about the ups and downs. This time next week I could easily be a shivering wreck again.

But, the point is, right now I am no longer scared. Or miserable. Or feeling denied.

So, if you're at the beginning of this journey, then listen to the King from Alice in Wonderland:

"Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

Seven months sober

If we can't see the joy in the ordinary, then how on earth can we teach our children to find it?

Being sober is more 'ordinary', but that is its joy. I've had it with the artificial ups and downs of drunk.

And, you know what? The extraordinary really does take care of itself.

Just you wait and see....

And here I am at eight months sober, older, wiser and more battle scarred. And I feel like I've discovered the biggest lesson of all about being sober:

You have to learn to cope with regular life without alcohol, because only then can you stay afloat when life decides to throw you lemons.

More on that one tomorrow.

Love SM x

100 DAYS SOBER!

I made it to the big one oh oh! Woo hoo! Go me!

(I feel a bit greedy celebrating this one, having just celebrated 3 months. It's like poor #3, who has a birthday just before Christmas! But, hell, I think we deserve to congratulate ourselves whenever we get an opportunity...)

I was intending to celebrate by myself today (and with you lot, obviously), but it turns out that there are advantages to the husband sneaking the odd peak at the blog.

When I was still half asleep this morning he presented me with a 100th birthday card! (Bet they don't sell many of those).

Not only that, but he's also bought me a gorgeous necklace - a silver elephant on a chain. I could invent something about 'elephants never forgetting', or make a joke about the size of my arse, but the truth is he just knows I love elephants.

He is a Good Man. A Keeper.

So, I was reading back over some of my posts from nearly 100 days ago. There I was, all bright eyed, bushy tailed, enthusiastic and naïve. I reminded myself of the new girl starting at secondary school.

You think that you've made it - you've done the work, passed the exams and you're in! Then you realise that you know nothing. You look around and notice that no-one else is wearing their socks pulled up or their skirts at regulation length. You don't know your way around. You don't know the rules. You're totally out of your depth.

Now I've done the 'am I an alcoholic?' modules, and I've done the 'moderation. Is it possible?' modules (also known as 'is this really it? For ever?'). I've done lower fourth and upper fourth and I'm into lower fifth!

But I realise that I have a way to go before I'm a cool know-it-all, confident sixth former. I've only just started on 'introspection' and 'who the hell am I, anyway?' and I have no idea what comes after that! I've not even been given the syllabus.

What could I have told my lower fourth self 100 days ago? I could have given her a list something like this:

1. You will sleep more, and better, than you've done in years, but will be more tired than you can imagine.

2. You will discover that hot chocolate has magical healing powers, and that there really is a point to alcohol free beer.

3. You will feel ten years older and wiser, but look five years younger.

4. You will have to start to hate yourself before you can learn to love yourself again.

5. You will discover a passion for cleaning, tidying, weeding, sorting and clearing out - both literally and metaphorically.

6. You will obsessively read everything you can find about alcohol, alcoholism, and anything else beginning with 'alc'.

7. You will find that some of the really big hurdles (like parties) can be easy, but some of the small things (everyday stresses and upsets) can be terribly hard.

8. You'll find that that knot of anxiety you lived with for years was caused by the drink, not solved by it. Your best friend was actually your worst enemy.

9. You will become an obsessive navel gazer (not to be confused with a naval gazer - someone who stares at seamen). You'll constantly wrestle with questions like 'Who am I? Who was I? How did I get here? Where am I going?.

10. You will meet some incredible fellow travellers along the way. People who will make you laugh, cry and think. Hugely strong, brave and inspirational people sharing your journey.

But, you know what? There would have been no point in (the older, wiser) me telling (the younger, more naïve) myself any of this, because one of the main things I've learned is that there are no short cuts. 

As it says in one of my favourite books (Going on a Bear Hunt) "you can't go under it, you can't go over it. You've got to go through it."

You've done the crime. Now you've got to do the time. And I've done 100 days of it!

I was on the Soberistas site, reading some blogs written by newbies on day 1, or day 7, or 14. And I almost felt jealous of the fact that they were standing there at the beginning of a journey that would change their lives. The first 100 days is hard, but it's also more intense and rewarding than you can imagine.

Here's to the next 100! And here's to all of you - my wonderful fellow travellers.

Love SM x