5 Signs That You're Drinking Too Much

In the final months of my long and turbulent love affair with wine, I would often end up asking Google or Siri if I had a drink problem.

Usually, one of those online questionnaires would pop up asking questions like do you drink first thing in the morning? Have you lost a job because of your drinking? Do you drink alone?

I'd answer 'yes' to some (of course I drink alone sometimes. Doesn't everyone? Anyhow, I'm not really on my own - the dog is here, and the kids are asleep upstairs...), but there were an awful lot I could answer 'no' to, which would convince me that I didn't really have a problem. 

Yay! Crack open the vino to celebrate!

However, alcohol addiction is not black and white. It's far more nuanced and complex than that. Like any addiction, it's progressive, it's fifty shades of grey (but not in a kinky way).

Alcohol can have a hugely negative impact on your life way before you get to the vodka-on-the-cornflakes stage. And the sooner you realise that it is a problem, the easier it is to address before you really do reach rock bottom.

So, based on my experience, and on the hundreds of e-mails I've had from readers over the years, here are the five signs that I wish I'd been told to look out for:

1. Is Alcohol Affecting Your Mental and Physical Health?

Alcohol has a huge impact on our mental and physical health, particularly as we get older.

It's not just the obvious things, like the hangovers, it's far more insidious than that.

If you have a problem with anxiety, you may well think that the booze helps you to relax. Well actually, it's the booze that's causing the anxiety. 

Alcohol affects our dopamine levels. When you have a drink you get a boost of dopamine which, admittedly, helps you to chill out, but the next day you'll get a corresponding domaine crash, which makes you feel hugely anxious.

And, over time, the brain reduces the levels of dopamine it produces to compensate for the alcohol you're drinking, making you feel generally depressed.

Sound familiar?

You may also find that you're getting worse and worse at sleeping. You get to sleep okay, but then wake up at around 3am tossing and turning for ages. That's the booze.

Muffin top? Nope, it's a wine belly. A bottle of wine contains around 650 calories.

Those are just some of the obvious ways in which booze is impacting on your health, but there are longer term and more dangerous ones too, like the fact that alcohol hugely increases your chance of getting seven different types of cancer.

2. You Keep Making (and Breaking) Rules

I did this for years before I finally quit drinking.

I did Dry January (but started a few days late and finished a week early).

I did 'not drinking during the week', but then decided that the weekend started on Thursday and ended on Monday. I did 'not drinking at home' and started going out an awful lot.

I tried alternating alcoholic drinks with water, which worked okay until I got slightly drunk, then I totally forgot about that rule. I tried only drinking weak beer, but after several of those I'd lose all willpower and order a vodka.

The constantly making and breaking of rules is exhausting and hugely damaging to your self esteem, and it's a really good sign that booze is no longer your friend.

3. You Keep Thinking About Alcohol

I know that there was a time, back in my dim and distant past, when I didn't think about alcohol at all, except when I was actually drinking it. But it started taking up more and more space in my head.

If you find yourself constantly thinking about if you're going to drink, when you're going to drink and how much you're going to drink, then it's starting to be an issue.

You might find that you've started to think really weird stuff (if so, don't worry, you are really not alone!)

Many of us, for example, started to worry about whether the supermarket cashiers were judging us and would rotate the shops we bought booze from. Or we'd worry about our neighbours checking out our bulging recycling bags.

You might also find that you've started to Google 'am I an alcoholic?' and that you're avidly reading articles titled things like 'Signs that you're drinking too much.' Just saying...

4. Your Memory is Playing Up

Alcohol is really toxic to our brains and our memories.

You might joke with your friends about how you can't remember the details of the party the night before, but actually, those memory blackouts are a really bad sign. You've overloaded your brain with so many toxins that it's stopped being able to make memories.

Maybe you've never experienced a full scale memory blackout (some people are more prone to them than others), but you may well have found that although you spent five hours at a party you can only really recall enough of it to fit into about an hour. And it takes you a while in the morning to remember how you got home and where you put your handbag and your phone.

That's called a 'brown out'. It's the precursor to a blackout, where your memory sort of flicks on and off like a malfunctioning lightbulb.

If any of this sounds familiar then you're drinking too much,

5. You're an All-or-Nothing Person

One thing I've learned is that some people are just more prone to addiction than others, and if you're one of these people then you really need to be careful around any form of drug (or even sugar, gambling and internet shopping!)

I call this tribe the 'all-or-nothing' people, and we are brilliant. We throw ourselves into everything - love, friendship, hobbies, you name it. We are hopeless at moderating all of that good stuff. But, sadly, we're also hopeless at moderating booze.

If you were totally unable to be a 'social smoker' and ended up with a packet a day habit, if you can't eat one crisp in a bowl and leave the others, if you've never seen the point in having only one small glass of wine, then it's likely that you and booze are not a good mix.

If you've read all of that and are now thinking OMG I HAVE A DRINK PROBLEM! WHAT DO I DO? then do not panic.

You might find that you're easily able to cut down, but if not (see point 2 above) then do ditch the drink! Go alcohol free! You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

That anxiety, sleeplessness, wine belly, increased cancer risk - gone. The lack of self esteem as you keep making and breaking rules - no longer. All that time wasted thinking about drinking - no more. You'll have more energy, more money and a better life, and you'll be able to remember all of it!

If you're still not convinced then read the diary of the ups and down of my first year sober. Here's a link to my Amazon page. You can read the first few chapters for free using the 'Look Inside' feature.

Love to you all!

SM x

Go Sober October - Day 1

October 1st - Day 1 of Macmillan Cancer Support's Go Sober October.

If you've found your way to this blog because you're doing the challenge, then WELL DONE! This post is dedicated to you....

Perhaps you're doing Go Sober October because a close relative or friend has died from cancer. You don't drink that much anyway, but think that a month's detox will be good for you. Well, good for you. Have fun, and raise as much cash as you can.

Maybe that's not your story. Maybe Go Sober October is just a prompt - an extra reason to address an issue that's been worrying you for a while. Perhaps your story goes a little bit like this:

You've always loved drinking. It's one of your main hobbies! It's how you met many of your best friends. You're the archetypal 'life and soul of the party,' always the last one standing (or not!).

But recently you've noticed that you're drinking more and more. You don't like to sit down and add it up, but you can easily drink a bottle of wine in an evening and - scarily - not even feel that drunk!

You're worried that it's starting to affect your health - you're overweight, not sleeping at all well, you look puffy and you've got a terrible muffin top. Plus, you're anxious and stressed a lot of the time. You wonder whether you have some sort of low lying depression. You feel like you're stuck in a rut.

Every so often you Google 'Am I an alcoholic' and do one of those questionnaires. Sure, you answer 'yes' to a few of the questions (like drinking alone - doesn't everyone?), but you know what an alkie looks like - out of control, passing out in gutters, looking like a tramp - and that's not you!

But you are starting to spend more and more of your time thinking about drinking. Wine o'clock creeps ever earlier, and alcohol free days become fewer and far between. You're losing far too much time to hangovers.

You're starting to do odd things, like watching how much other people are drinking, worrying about whether the supermarket cashier is judging you by your wine laden trolley, and having a few drinks before you even get to the party.

You've tried to cut down several times. You do deals with yourself like 'I will only drink on social occasions' or 'I will only drink at weekends,' or 'I won't drink wine, only beer,' but you never stick with the deal for longer than a week or two...

....so that's why you're doing Sober October, and that's how you've found your way here.

SO WELCOME! We've all been there.

Forget whether or not you're an 'alcoholic.' It's a red herring. The truth is, if the description above is of you, then you are addicted to alcohol. There's no shame in that - it's an addictive drug, just like nicotine.

The bad news is - it's only going to get worse. But there's good news: quitting drinking will totally transform your life - and the sooner you do it, the easier it is.

That's probably a lot to take in right now, so just do Sober October and see how you go.

If you find the first few days hard, then read Jason Vale's 'Kick the Drink, Easily.' It'll totally transform how you think about drinking.

Try reading the first few days/weeks of this blog - starting back in March. Everyone here is happy to help. And check out www.soberistas.com.

E-mail me on sobermummy@gmail.com if you'd like some advice, or you just want to get something off your chest.

As you go through the month you'll find that you're losing that puffy look, and the wine belly. You'll sleep better. Your skin will glow. You'll save money. And you'll start to feel calmer - less anxious and stressed.

Then have a think about whether a month is really long enough - because those positive changes just keep on coming.....

Good luck!

SM x

Willpower

A common reaction when I tell people that I haven't touched alcohol for several months is "Wow, you have amazing willpower!"

For a few moments I revel in the impression of myself as a woman of substance. With backbone. Serious inner strength. I pity mere mortals and their lack of gumption.

Then I remember that, in truth, I have the willpower of a moth, constantly flying into a hot lightbulb. I am almost entirely willpowerless.

You see, we drinkers - I believe - are natural hedonists. If we like doing something, we like doing more of it. We do not like to deprive ourselves.

We give our wills free reign. We let them go crazy. We don't believe in keeping our wills, or anything else for that matter, in check.

This makes us really fabulously interesting and exuberant people. (See Why Ex-drinkers Rock). But it does also get us into a lot of trouble. Eventually.

If I did, actually, have a great deal of willpower then I wouldn't have to give up drinking. I would be able to have a glass of wine, once in a while, and then stop! That's what willpower is about.

Bill Wilson, the co-founder of AA, argued that the 'test' for alcoholism wasn't whether or not you could quit drinking for a week, or a month at a time, but whether you could drink just one drink then stop, every evening for a week. Now that takes willpower.

That I could not do. (See Am I an Alcoholic? Part 2)

The problem with constantly having to assert willpower is that it is exhausting! Because the more you concentrate on not doing something, the more you want to do it.

You live in a constant state of denial and dissatisfaction. You use up loads of space in your head, fighting with yourself, leaving you little room for doing anything more constructive.

It's a truly miserable way to live.

That's why quitting drinking is a vastly better idea than 'moderating.' Because if you're 'moderating' you have to use your willpower ALL THE TIME. But, if you quit altogether, then, after a while (about 100 days), you no longer have to use any willpower at all. Or hardly ever. Because you no longer want to drink.

And that, for we wonderful, pleasure seeking hedonists, is a great relief.

So whenever I get complimented on my amazing willpower, I just smile enigmatically, thinking "oh you ignorant, ordinary normie. If only you knew...."

But you do know, don't you?

Love SM x

Related posts: Moderation. Is it Possible? and Moderation. Is it Possible? Part 2

Fear of Cashiers and Police Cars

I find these days that there are some ordinary day-to-day things that give me a huge thrill. Like waking up on Sunday mornings with a clear head, no guilt, and loads of energy. Like being able to do my belt up on the third notch. And like being able to go into any shop without fear of the cashier...

Until I started this blog I thought I was the only person in the world with Cashier Fear. In this, like many things, I quickly discovered that I was not alone.

I used to buy wine on rotation from several different shops because I was worried that the cashiers would clock how much I was buying and judge me.

There's a small Sainsbury Local near the children's school that I use quite a lot. I made me really, really cross that the same cashier seemed to be on duty whenever I went in. I would say to the children, really loudly, as I hauled my bottles of vino up to the till, "mustn't forget Daddy's wine!" or "Godfather Billy's coming for supper!" with an eye roll.

Needless to say, the children thought I'd gone slightly mad. They weren't wrong.

Every time I go into that shop now I get a buzz. I put my alcohol free beers on the counter and find myself, yet again, talking too loudly as I say "why is there an age restriction on these when they are alcohol free? Isn't that funny? It's not as if there's any alcohol in them! Ha ha!" Still acting like a mad lady.

I would love to know whether cashiers ever give a toss about who's buying what, and which of the Mums they serve are secret lushes. I suspect that the only person judging me was myself...

Another thing that gives me a vicarious thrill (I have to get my kicks somewhere these days) is police cars.

Now, I never thought I drove drunk. Whenever I got into my car I convinced myself that I was totally sober. Looking back, this can't have been the case.

If you drink a bottle of wine in the evening (10 units) it takes ten hours to leave your system. Given that I'd usually pass out before 10pm, I'd probably by ok to drive in the morning.

BUT,  if I'd gone out to a party mid week it was likely I'd have drunk up to 20 units and gone to bed at 1am. There is no way that by 8am I'd be under the limit.

Plus, towards the end of the dark drinking days I'd often have a glass or two of wine at lunch time. Then drive at 3pm. I felt totally fine - I had a very high tolerance by this point - but I'm sure the breathalyser would have said different.

People with alcohol problems are notoriously adept at convincing themselves that they are perfectly safe to drive. This is what killed my friend Juliet (see When the Wine Witch Wins). But, the giveaway that, in my heart of hearts, I knew I wasn't really okay to drive was my fear of police cars.

I loathed driving past police cars, at any time of day. And if a police car just happened to be driving behind me (bound to happen in central London) I'd be riddled with paranoia. Why are they following me? What have a done? Am I driving too fast? To slow? Weaving? Aarrggghhh!

But now I love driving past police cars! I wave at them like a lunatic (are you seeing a pattern here?). I'm desperate to be pulled over so that I can say "Oh no officer. Not me! I don't drink."

To read more about my first year sober, read my book The Sober Diaries. Click here (UK), or here (USA)

Love to you all,

SM x

Related post: 5 signs that you're a problem drinker

Climbing Everest

Often I hear people say that they are grateful for the years, decades even, that they lost due to alcoholism, because it made them who they are: stronger, more compassionate, more enlightened.

And I think "Really? Grateful?"

I try not to regret the drinking years, after all, an awful lot of it was a great deal of fun, but I find it hard to go so far as gratitude.

Now, if God had found it in herself to make me one of those irritating people who can have a glass of vino and then genuinely not want a second one (or the whole bottle), then I would feel grateful.

I was thinking about this when, over the weekend, the family SM went to the movies to see Everest, a fabulous film about the death of twelve climbers near the summit of Everest in May 1996.

One of the climbers that day was an American doctor called, rather appropriately, Beck Weathers. He'd taken up mountaineering as a way of coping with debilitating bouts of depression.

When a terrible blizzard struck as the climbers were descending the mountain, Beck was left for dead by his fellow mountaineers. They believed that there was no way he would make it down the mountain alive.

Beck remembers 'dying', but when the sun rose he saw a vision of his family in front of him. Beck was almost totally blind by this point, unable to feel his hands or face, one arm was frozen over his head, and he hadn't eaten for three days or had any water for two.

Despite this, Beck managed to walk, alone, back to the nearest camp where, a second time, he was left alone in a tent to die. Again he refused to do so, and was eventually airlifted off the mountain by helicopter.

After watching the film, I read an interview with Beck. He talks about how he lost both his hands. Then, he was sitting in a chair back home when a chunk of his right eyebrow fell off. Later, he walked down the hall and his left big toe broke off and went skittering away, followed a while afterwards, by his nose.

You would think, wouldn't you, that Beck would feel a bit bitter? About losing so many crucial body parts. About being left for dead by his fellow climbers. But no.

Beck says: would I do it again? The answer is yes, even if I knew everything that was going to happen. I traded my hands for my family and my future. It is a bargain I readily accept. For the first time in my life I have peace. I searched all over the world for that which would fulfil me, and all along it was in my own back yard. I am a blessed individual. Even better, I know it.

Beck is grateful!

This made me feel incredibly humble.

So, next time I'm struggling with the Wine Witch, I'm going to remember Beck, walking blind, with a frozen nose and hands, his arm stuck above his head, and I'm going to think THIS IS NOTHING!

The human spirit can achieve way more than this. You just have to believe, keep that vision of your loved ones in front of you, and put one frozen foot in front of the other.

Beck traded his hands for his family and his future, and to find peace. All we need to do is to step away from the bottle....

That's a much easier mountain to climb, even if it doesn't always feel that way.

(Huge congrats to Jennifer from Canada, who's made it to 6 MONTHS SOBER and is now standing on the summit of Everest on a clear, sunny day with no blizzard in sight!)

Love SM x

The Obstacle Course

I read loads of sober blogs, and I get hundreds of e-mails and comments from readers of Mummy was a Secret Drinker.

The ones that really make me want to cry, and yell in frustration, are the ones written by people who do the first few days over and over and over again.

They do four days sober, then back to day one. They manage ten days next time, then go on a bender. Three days. Four days again. Ad infinitum.

I get it! I really do. I've been there. We all have. And you do just have to keep persevering until one day it just sticks.

But now, with the benefit of six months of hindsight, I just want to grab them in a big bear hug and yell "Nooooo! You're doing the hardest part over and over, without ever making it to the good bits!"

And the problem is, the longer you spend wallowing around in those early dark days of despair, the more you manage to re-enforce the idea in your subconscious that that's what sobriety is all about.

So, if that's you, then think about it like this:

Imagine you're standing in a field which you've been in for a long, long time. Initially it was beautiful - filled with wild flowers, friends, sunshine and fluffy bunnies (maybe the bunnies are a bit too much? But, hell, I'm going with it).

But, over time, it's got more and more miserable in your field. There are still some sunny days, but there's an awful lot of rain, and some terrible thunderstorms. You keep thinking the flowers are growing back, but they die before they bloom. The bunnies are few and far between.

Then you start meeting people who tell you about another field, not too far away. They've seen it. Some of them live in it. It's everything your field used to be, if not more so. And they appreciate it so much more because they've seen what your desolate home looks like. They used to live there too.

"Hey, come and live with us!" they tell you. Because they're not mean and selfish. They know that there's plenty of room at their place for everyone, and they genuinely want more friends.

You really, really want to join them. But there's a hitch. There's a huge great obstacle course in the way. You can't see the whole course, only the obstacle directly in front of you. And you can't see the promised land on the other side. You have no idea how big the course is, how long it takes to get through it, or whether you're up to it.

But you know that you can't stay where you are. It's only going to get worse. So you take a leap and throw yourself at the first obstacle....

Initially it's not too hard. You've got bags of energy and enthusiasm. But, after you've been over a twelve foot wall, through a leech infested, waterlogged ditch, and dug under a fence with your bare hands you're exhausted. Fed up. You have no proof that this place even exists. You have no idea if you can ever make it that far, and you're desperate to go back to somewhere familiar, where you're not so tired, and cold and scared....

.....so you go back to your field. And initially it's great to be home. The other people stranded there welcome you back with open arms and tell you that the alternative field doesn't really exist. You're comfortable. You know what you're dealing with. You think you can see the sun coming out and a bunny in the distance....

....but you were fooling yourself. There are no bunnies left any more. The thunderstorms come harder and harder. Eventually you throw yourself at the twelve foot wall again. You brave the leeches again. You dig the tunnel. You make it to the fifth obstacle this time before you go back to the beginning.

You go back because you have no proof. You don't know how long it takes. You don't know if you can do it. You're exhausting yourself by doing those first few obstacles over and over again. It's just too hard.

So, if that's you, then listen to this. Because I do know (as do many people reading this who I'm hoping will back me up in the comments below). I am going to say it really loudly:

IT DOES EXIST! IT'S EVERY BIT AS GOOD AS YOU'RE HOPING. IT TAKES ABOUT 100 DAYS TO BE ABLE TO SEE IT, AND ABOUT SIX MONTHS TO GET THERE. YOU CAN DO IT.

The truth is that the hardest bit of the obstacle course is the beginning. So you really don't want to keep re-doing the wall, the leeches and the digging. Once you're through those, the other obstacles get easier, and they're further apart. And you get stronger, and fitter and more able to cope.

One thing to look out for is 'false summits'. Sometimes you think you've got there. You've seen no obstacles for ages, and you think THIS IS IT! Only to be confronted by a whopping great wall. (See my post on Post Acute Withdrawal Symptoms).

But by now you know how to scale those suckers. It's no biggie. You almost start to get a sense of achievement from making it to the other side of each one. After all, a field with no challenges at all in it would be a little....flat and featureless.

So, my fellow adventurers, pack up your bags, say goodbye to your field, throw yourself at the obstacles and KEEP ON GOING! Do not look back until you get to the end!

For more inspiration, read The Sober Diaries. You can read the first few chapters for free by choosing the 'look inside' feature. Click here in the UK, here in the USA and here in Australia.

Love SM x

The Road Not Taken

I used to greet Monday mornings with despair (see Tell Me Why I Don't Like Mondays), so it's a testament to how far I've come that now I can think of few better ways to start a new week than with a poem.

Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken, was Wayne Dyer's favourite (For more on Wayne read Change the Way You Look at Things), so seems like a great choice.

So, whether you've already chosen the road less travelled, or whether you're still standing at the point where the paths diverge, this is for you:

The Road Not Taken

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

 

Most people focus on the wonderful final lines of this poem. They see it as an anthem to independent thought, to not following the crowd, to taking the hard way, not just the obvious way.

 

And that is a great rallying cry for us. The sober road is, without doubt, the road less travelled by. And the one that makes all the difference.

 

But, Frost's poem is, arguably, one of the most widely misinterpreted poems of all time. Whole books have been written about the true meaning of The Road Not Taken.

 

Frost spent the years from 1912-1915 in England, where he took long walks with his writer friend, Edward Thomas. It's believed that this poem was intended by Frost as a gentle mocking of indecision, as shown by Edwards on their walks.

 

If you read it more closely, you'll see that Frost says that the two roads are, in actual fact, almost identical. Yet the poem's narrator agonises over the choice, and then wastes time and energy thinking back wistfully to the path he'd rejected, kidding himself that he may still return to it.

 

He then, as we so often do, re-writes history by looking back and attributing far more meaning to the fork in the road than it ever truly deserved.

 

Therefore, you could read the poem as being about the futility of indecision and regret. About not looking back. About how our memories can deceive us. About how we take ourselves, and our decisions, too seriously. About the danger of procrastination, and the need to just take a road and stick to it, whichever road it is.

 

What I've learned along this road less travelled by, is that the world is filled with meaning, with lessons and with answers. We'll find the ones we need when we need them.

 

All we need to do is to keep our eyes open, and see the poetry. And for a long time I couldn't do that.

 

So, whatever meaning you take from The Road Not Taken will be the right one for you, right now. Then come back to it in a few months time, and it might tell you something else....

 

Happy Monday!

 

Love SM



Spot the Lush

BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE to my old friend, Tallaxo, who made it to six months yesterday. Tallaxo, it's been a real pleasure and a delight having you on this road alongside me. You rock.

About a year ago (well before I quit), I was chatting to a school Mum friend about a mutual acquaintance (let's call her 'Daphne' because that's a really cool name, and I always wanted to be Daphne from Scooby Doo).

"Did you know that Daphne doesn't drink?" she asked me. I didn't. I tried really hard to appear only vaguely interested when, really, I was fascinated.

" Why's that?" I replied, nonchalantly.

"She's very open about it. She had a totally wild youth - drink, drugs, you name it. Had to quit everything. AA, NA, you know. But the funny thing is, she says that now she can spot the addict a mile off! It's a game she plays at the school gate."

"How funny," I reply. Not in the slightest amused. I was terrified. Had she spotted me? Had she out-ed me? Was this a pointed conversation? Aaarrrggghhh.

I was rather relieved when Daphne moved to the country a few months later as it got really tiring trying to avoid her in the playground. Now, I wish she were still here. I'd love a sober school Mum friend!

Anyhow, the point is, I now know exactly what she means! It didn't happen immediately (I was rather wrapped up in myself, initially), but I have developed an amazing ability to spot the lush.

When I was working in London in the early nineties I had a great gay friend called Guy (only one vowel away from being an adjective).

In those days, believe it or not, it was really hard to be openly homosexual in business, even in advertising (where Guy and I worked).

We had, for example, a boss who used to regale us frequently with stories about his girlfriend, Fiona. It was only several years later that we discovered Fiona was really Bob.

Guy said that he could spot an 'in the closet', repressed gay a mile off. He called it his gaydar. He was never wrong. 'Fiona' never fooled Guy.

Now, sober is the new gay. And I have a lush-dar. It's a great way to keep yourself amused at drinks parties.

The rookie error is to assume that the lush is the drunkest person in the room.  The loud, falling over person is probably an occasional drinker who's overdone it.

The real lush, at first sight, doesn't look too drunk at all - they have a far higher tolerance than that.

I was at a drinks party recently, chatting to a lady I'd never met before, and I thought Bingo. I just knew.

So, in the interests of this blog, I made myself analyse why. What was the giveaway? Here's what I concluded:

1. The lush is often overweight, particularly round the middle. Even if they are skinny, they tend to be puffy. Especially around the face.

2. They mention alcohol frequently in conversation, even to total strangers. "I'll be the one propping up the bar!", "We must get together for a drink, or three," "So, I'd had a few drinks when...." "Woke up with a horrible hangover and..."

It's much like when a friend first falls in love and scatters their lover's name into conversation liberally without even realise they're doing it.

3. They may not look drunk, but they don't seem physically steady. They stand a little too close. They might sway a little, or slur a little. They don't blink enough. They laugh too much. Tiny signs, only visible to an expert.

4. They are a bit florid. Red in the cheeks and the nose. Slightly bloodshot eyes. Broken veins.

5. They appear at ease, gregarious, confident, but something doesn't sit right. You get a sense that underneath the bonhomie they're edgy and insecure. They don't feel grounded.

This might sound like something out of Mean Girls, but, honestly, I don't look down on the lush. I don't despise her. I love her. She is me. She is one of my tribe.

I want to go up and give her a big hug, and say "it's okay. I know how you feel. It can all get better," but I know how much you hate hearing the truth from the people closest to you, let alone from a complete stranger.

So I say nothing. I just nod along to the suggestion that we get together "for a few jars" and "get hammered."

And it strikes me that I always had a 'lush-dar', it's just that back then I saw it as a 'new friend detector.' I would immediately gravitate towards the other hard drinker in the crowd knowing, subconsciously, that we had a great deal in common.

I still see them as potential 'new friends.' I just hope that they find me, when they're ready.

Happy sober Saturday everyone.

SM x

Change the Way You Look at Things

Wayne Dyer is dead.

For years I've been obsessed by The Times's obituaries. Not only are they beautifully written, but they tell stories of incredibly varied and inspirational lives. Whenever I want to motivate myself to get off my arse, I make myself think "what would they write in my obituary?"

I stopped reading the obituaries in the last few years of drinking. I now know why. Because I knew it would make me realise that my obituary would read something like this:

She had huge promise. A privileged upbringing and an amazing education. She went to Oxford and travelled the world. Her early career was stellar. She had 3 lovely children. But by the age of about 30 she stopped. Nothing much more to say after that. She drank. Full stop.

That's not what they're saying about Wayne Dyer. He was a man - a self-help guru - who changed people's lives. Even if he didn't change your life, he at least made you think. When he spoke he held people in the palm of his hand....then he'd let them go and watch them fly.

I only came across Wayne Dyer a few months ago when www.ainsobriety.wordpress.com mentioned him in a post. She'd been to see him talk and she quoted something he said that had a huge impact on me.

He said that the strange thing about 'recovery' is that, at the end of our journey we'll recognise it as the place where we started (see my post Full Circle).

That was the incredible thing about Wayne Dyer. Even second or third hand, his quotes had the power to change lives.

So, in honour of Wayne, I watched his full speech yesterday on The Power of Intention. Here's one of his most famous quotes from that talk:

When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.

Wayne talks about Albert Einstein, who observed that the most fundamental decision you have to make in life is Do I live in a friendly or a hostile universe?

If you see the universe as filled with hostility and anger then that is what you will experience. Likewise, if you see the universe as fundamentally loving and beautiful, it will be.

Scientists have proven the power of perception, of the subconscious, over and over again. For example, think about the use of placebos in medicine. I love the fact that if I say to my children Mummy will kiss it better, and I kiss the 'ouch', it really does get better. Because they believe it will be so.

(N.B if they actually manage to chop off the end of a finger, this will not work. Go to A&E).

So, according to Wayne, you will never be happy if you look for happiness outside yourself, in possessions, appearance, reputation, money, etcetera, because happiness comes from within. It is about the way you look at things.

In essence, quoting Wayne again: There is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way.

I believe that what makes the difference, when you quit drinking, between being happy and sober or miserable and sober is to change the way you look at things.

Stop seeing alcohol as the thing that's making the fun. See it as a destructive, addictive poison that's gradually pulling more and more people into its web.

Stop seeing 'sober' as dull and boring. See it as a huge opportunity to live life the way it was intended, and to fulfil your potential.

Funnily enough, when Wayne talks about harnessing the 'power of intention', he says that one of the first things you should do (everyone, not just addicts) is to stop drinking.

Wayne, by the way, was sanguine about death.

He said that it's about going from nowhere to now here to nowhere. Purely a matter of emphasis. Of spacing. (I don't think that works in Chinese).

Farewell then, Wayne Dyer, and thank you. I'll leave the final words of this post to you:

Stop acting as if life is a rehearsal. Live this day as if it were your last. The past is over and gone. The future is not guaranteed.

SM x

How Long Does it Take to 'Recover' From Alcohol Addiction?

When I first quit, and for the months/years before I quit, one of my big questions was: how long does it take before you feel okay about not drinking?

It's very difficult to get an answer to that one!

For starters, everyone is - obviously - different. Secondly, it depends on your definition of 'okay', and, finally, the changes happen so slowly that you're barely aware of them until you look back later on.

It's a bit like ageing. You can't see the lines forming, or everything starting to sag, until one day you look in the mirror and think Yikes! It's my mother! (Only in the case of getting sober, the changes are wholly positive).

Slowly, slowly, baby step by baby step, you find that you've gone from:

I can't have a drink. Aaarrrgghhh! to:

I can't have a drink! I'm okay with that, at least for today, to:

I can't have a drink! I'm okay with that, at least for the next few months, to:

I can have a drink! But why on earth would I ever want to?

Admittedly, there's a fair bit of shilly shallying along the way which goes a bit like this:

Perhaps after all this time I can have just one drink. I can moderate! I've learned my lesson about overdoing it....

That's one we have to learn to knock on the head over and over again, like a constant game of whack-a-mole, until it eventually goes away.

So, how long does all that take?

Don't hold me to this, but based on my experience, and the stories I've read from other people, there does seem to be a bit of a pattern.

Here's my rough guide. Please add your comments and experiences below....

1. It takes 3 days to 3 weeks to get over the worst of the physical stuff. The headaches, fever, insomnia, fog, constipation etcetera. I drank a fair amount - a bottle, sometimes two, of wine a day, but, even so, within a few days I was physically okay.

2. It takes about 100 days for sober to start feeling like the 'new normal.' By then, hopefully, you're at the I can't have a drink. I'm okay with that, at least for the next few months stage.

If you're just starting out, then I know 100 days sounds like an awfully long time, but it's really not! Think about how quickly the time usually passes from New Year to Easter. That's all it is.

And during that time miraculous things start to happen that'll keep you going.

You'll sleep better, you'll start losing weight (hopefully!). Your moods will improve. You'll have more energy, less anxiety. Your skin, hair, eyes will transform. It's slow, but it's amazing.

By the time you get to 100 days you start to realise how good life without alcohol can be.

3. It takes about 6 months to get to the point where you suddenly realise that you can drink. But why on earth would you ever want to?

This is where I am now. A light bulb moment. You realise that it's no longer about denial. You feel FREE! I do hope that I'm not talking too soon, but I know that other people have said the same about six months.

I still get cravings, but they feel much like Jason Vale describes when he uses the analogy of driving a car with the indicators on a different side from the one you're used to. It takes a long time to break an ingrained habit.

Every now and again you still use the windscreen wipers instead of the indicator. You just think oops. Silly me. Adjust. Move on. I no longer have to retreat to the bathroom for an hour and immerse myself in bubbles, breathing deeply and chanting be gone foul wine witch.

4. It takes 2 years, apparently, to stop getting the occasional mood swings, cravings and doubts triggered by PAWS (see my post on Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome), but each episode gets shorter and easier to handle. Once you're used to them, it's no worse than PMT (although, to be fair, people have literally got away with murder using PMT as an excuse).

So, if you're at the beginning of this journey and feeling scared and unsure, then don't be. It's six months of ups and downs, and a hell of a lot of introspection, in exchange for a lifetime of liberation.

No brainer.

Love SM x

Coming Out of the Closet

A belated, but heartfelt congratulations to the the wonderful LushNoMore who has not been a lush for SIX MONTHS! Well done LNM. You rock!

Most of us lie when we first stop drinking.

This is an entirely unfair state of affairs. When people stop smoking they shout about it! Everyone pats them on the back and supports them. Ditto dieting. How many conversations have you had with friends over the merits (or not) of the latest fad diet?

But, quit drinking, and we mumble about antibiotics, designated drivers and detoxes.

We are, quite justifiably, terrified of people's reactions. We worry that we will become pariahs at the time when we most need our friends around us. We know that in our drinking days we would treat non-drinkers with suspicion, possibly contempt.

I started off with the simple explanation: I've given up for Lent. I needed a detox! Could do with losing some weight.

This worked a treat. Lots of nods. Well done you's. No uncomfortable silences or tricky questions.

As Easter came and went, and people kept seeing me sober, my 'excuse' morphed into this one:

I gave up for Lent and it felt so brilliant that I've kept going for a bit. Who knows, I might even do a whole year!

This one leads to a lot more questions: what are the benefits? What are the downsides? etcetera. It makes people a bit more uncomfortable, but they can manage it.

The problem is that it's a lie. Plus, I'm concerned that every time I state out loud that I may start drinking again it gives a bit of life back to the Wine Witch (see my post on Neuro-Linguistic programming). I worry that I'll get to 365 days and she'll pipe up "There you go! One year, tick. Crack open the bubbly!"

So, what next?

What I'm not able to do is say this: I am an alcoholic in recovery. I am never drinking again.

Here's why: Firstly, as soon as you mention the A word, people imagine you are a horribly neglectful mother, pouring vodka on your cornflakes for breakfast and passing out nightly in a pool of vomit in front of your kids. It's not true, and it's not fair, but that's the way it is.

Secondly, I do not view myself as 'in recovery'. I don't believe that alcoholism is a disease - it's an addiction. (see Is Alcoholism a Disease?)

Thirdly, the reaction to the 'alcoholic in recovery' stuff is that people assume you are miserable. Taking one awful day at a time. Constantly yearning for the amber nectar that you can never reach for again. That's not me; I'm happier (after a fair few ups and downs) than I've been for years.

Fourthly, it makes people question their own (possibly addictive) behaviour, and they do not like this. We understand that, don't we?

Finally, it makes them uncomfortable drinking in front of us. As if we're going to forcibly wrestle their glass from their hands, down it and go on a three day bender.

So, for all of those reasons, I avoid that one like the plague.

Instead, I am playing with several different versions of the truth. Depending on my mood and who I'm talking to I wheel out one of the following:

1. The Allergy Story

I seem to have developed a sort of allergy to alcohol. It just doesn't agree with me any more. Perhaps it's age. Hormones. Whatever. But it makes me fat, depressed and unable to sleep. Bummer, but there it is. So, no more vino for me.

2. Been There, Done That

I have this theory that we are allocated a life time supply of vino at birth. I got a bit carried away, and I've drunk mine already! Hell, it was fun while it lasted, but I just can't do it any more. It doesn't agree with me. I don't agree with it. I've moved on.

3. All or Nothing

I ended up drinking more that I should and, you know me, all or nothing! I don't do stuff by halves. I find it easier not to drink at all than to drink one small glass of wine four times a week. It's like smoking - I had to quit that too when I ended up on more than a pack a day.

The reason these work for me is that (apart from number 2 which has to be used sparingly, choosing your audience, as it can make people think you're a little weird...) not only are they true for me, but they are also true for most of my friends.

Most people, I've discovered, find that alcohol agrees with them less and less as they get older. Most people, even 'normal drinkers' find moderation hard. Instead of thinking "ooh, she's an alcoholic! Not like me then!" they are nodding away and empathising.

And, it makes them think perhaps I should quit too.....

On the whole, these conversations convince people that I am happy! I am not 'recovering' from some terrible disease, pining for some past nirvana. I am okay. Better than that - I'm AWESOME.

And so are you, my friends.

Have a great weekend!

SM x

Smile, and the World Smiles With You

*Spoiler Alert* : This post is sickeningly upbeat.

In my early days of not drinking I would trawl the web for other people's experiences. What I wanted was to find people struggling, like me. I didn't want a Pollyanna tale of love and joy, because it felt too far removed for me to grasp.

If that's you, then read these posts instead: Weeping, Losses and Gains, The Sobercoaster, Wavering.

How true is that saying "Smile, and the world smiles with you; cry and you cry alone"?

We alcohol addicts do a lot of crying alone.

We gradually become more and more isolated. We don't trust ourselves when we go out. We like drinking alone because there's no-one to judge us. It's comfortable.

We get fewer invitations, because even if we don't get inappropriately drunk, we tend to be a bit boring and self obsessed (we don't realise this at the time, obviously!). We repeat ourselves. We don't listen.

Back in the early nineties I read a much talked about book: The Celestine Prophecy. I don't remember a huge amount about it now, but I vividly remember the author talking about two types of people: radiators and drains.

She (or was it he?) said that 'radiators' are people who radiate positive energy. They attract other people like bees to a honeypot. When you leave their company you feel much more upbeat and energetic that you did when you arrived.

At the time I knew that I was a radiator. A happy, positive, glowing love bunny who everyone wanted to know.

'Drains' are the opposite. They are energy suckers. You spend time with them and you leave feeling exhausted. Much as you may love them and care about them, you just have to protect yourself and try not to spend too much time with them.

That's what alcohol does to us. It turns us into drains. Little self obsessed bundles of misery.

Do you remember Snoopy cartoons? Whenever a character was miserable Schulz would draw them with a little black cloud above their heads? That was me. I just didn't see it.

You don't get to that point overnight. It creeps up on you so slowly that you don't realise it's happened.

So it shouldn't surprise us that things don't change straight away when we quit. Sometimes the changes are so gradual that you only see them when you look back and realise how far you've come.

But slowly, slowly the clouds dissipate. Gradually, you stop sucking all the energy down the plughole and start doling it out again.

Yesterday I was in Marks and Spencers buying a new, fluffy bath towel (cost: two bottles of vino). (see post on The Concept of Self Care!). I hadn't bought a new bath towel for TWELVE YEARS!

I chatted away to the cheerful cashier about the ups and downs of the school holidays. As I left she said "it's been a real pleasure serving you today." And, you know what? She wasn't just reading from the manual, she really meant it!

Then I took the dog for a walk. I passed a traffic warden writing out a ticket for some poor sod. Traffic wardens are not known for their geniality. But this one looked up at me, grinned and said "have a great afternoon!"

Same day, I got an e-mail from a lady who I'd employed to do a small job for me. She wrote "I believe in angels, and I think you are one of them."

I have a relatively new friend (she's known me for longer sober than drinking) who's been having a terrible time. She told me last week that I'd made more difference to her life in recent weeks than anyone else.

The combination of these big and little things made me realise, suddenly, that I'm back to being a radiator! I'm smiling, and the world is smiling with me.

This time last year, seven weeks into the school holidays, I was going loopy. I was desperate for some time to myself. I was grumpy with the kids and doing a lot of yelling.

Getting three children under the age of 11 out of the door on time is hard work. I would ask, plead, then shout (a lot) until they were all dressed and ready to go. I'd then be all stressed out and cross in the car, silently counting the days until school started.

Not now. I'm chilled. I'm in the zone. Yesterday I said to the kids "if anyone wants to go trampolining they have to be dressed and ready by the door in fifteen minutes. Or we can just stay home. I'm easy."

I sat back with a copy of Grazia. Ten minutes later and they're all standing in a line, ready to go. We got in the car and sang to cheesy tunes all the way. I'm going to miss them so much when term starts. (Still a little bit relived though ;-))

Why on earth didn't I think of that strategy before?

Well, we know the answer to that one, don't we?

Love and positive vibes to you all!

SM x

New Start September - Just Do It!

I've always loved the lead up to September. It's a time of fresh starts. New, brightly polished school shoes. Well stocked pencil cases. Catching up with old friends, and making new ones. Clean slates. Days getting shorter; light getting longer.

Going sober can seem very lonely much of the time. It's easy to feel like the only black sheep in a flock of white. (Hang on. Surely we should be the white sheep in the flock of black?). Or the solitary lemming shouting "how about heading away from the cliff, folks?"

It's especially tough over the summer, I think. All those boozy barbecues, glasses of rosé at the water's edge, Pimms on manicured lawns. No-one wants to quit drinking over the summer. And many don't stay quit.

One of the things I love about blogging is that you get these fascinating statistics: how many readers you have each day, where they are, which posts they're reading, how they found you (no names or addresses - don't worry!). You have a sort of 'sober barometer' at your fingertips.

So, since I started this blog in March, the number of readers grew and grew every month....until July when whoosh! About half of them disappeared. Tumbleweed.

There I was, Norma-no-mates, banging on about the Wine Witch, weight loss (or not) and the benefits of vitamin B in fighting PAWS, and everyone had gone off down the pub.

But now, as September approaches, there are hundreds more people every day googling 'am I an alcoholic?' and finding their way here.

(Answer: forget about the terminology. Alcoholic is a horrible word, and not terribly helpful. If you've found this page, and you're still reading, then you're probably addicted to alcohol. No shame in that; it's a horribly addictive poison. It's messing up your life, and you'll be way better off without it).

See: Am I an Alcoholic? Am I an Alcoholic Part 2? and Am I an Alcoholic Part 3?

We're surfing the zeitgeist again, my friends. And it's so much easier feeling like you're swimming with the tide, not against it.

I guess this seasonal issue is preparation for the bigger challenge: Christmas. I shudder at the thought. But, at least it's followed by January. The month when millions hop on the sober bandwagon - even if  only temporarily. Bleak, miserable January - Bring it on!

So, if you've just found me, then WELCOME!

Maybe you're reading this, glass of vino in hand, thinking you just can't imagine how life can be any fun at all without booze.

But you're feeling sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. You're bloated, depressed, stuck in a rut. You haven't had a really good night's sleep in ages. You're convinced you're a terrible mother, friend, wife, lover.

You're starting to think that the liquid you'd believed was your friend - there whenever you've been celebrating, miserable, stressed, anxious, relaxing - is actually your worst enemy. You turned round for a second and it's bitten you on the arse.

Well, you're in the right place. Because we've all been there. (see Secret Drinker hits the High Bottom) And September is a great time to go sober.

Just make one small change (STEP AWAY FROM THE VINO, or whatever your favourite poison is) and watch every aspect of your life transform. Your self respect, your moods, your relationships, your weight (eventually!), even your hair. And we're with you.

Huge congrats to Edinburgh Housewife and Angie on 100 days sober. Whoop Whoop! You are awesome!

Love SM x

It's All Kicking Off at Soberistas!

I love Soberistas. If you've never come across it, here's a link.

In my early days I spent about two hours a day reading Soberistas. It made me feel like I was not alone. The members helped me with my random questions, like is it normal to have terrible constipation when you quit drinking? (Answer: yes, totally). Soberistas was also my favourite distraction activity at wine o'clock.

I spend less time on Soberistas now, but I still dip in three or four times a week, and it's a great reminder of how hard those early days can be. How confusing. How angst ridden. It reminds me how far I've come, and how little I want to return there.

Every now and again I read a post from someone who's just taken the plunge, and I'm vividly reminded of myself. Like looking back at an old photo album (does anyone do those anymore?). Then I beg them to read Jason Vale (my hero), and post the link to this blog, hoping that they'll find me, and find me helpful in some way.

Anyhow, today it's all kicked off at Soberistas, as it does from time to time. Usually, Lucy Rocca (the founder) ends up wading in and saying something along the lines of "now, now ladies. We are all friends here. This is an accepting and non judgemental place. Calm down," like a kind but stern sixth form tutor.

Today's spat is about day counting. One of the members posted a punchy piece arguing that if you 'slip up' on the sober journey you have to re-set the day counter to 1. It's not ok to say, for example (and I quote)  'I am 1 year sober - minus 3 blips, 4 slips and a couple of shirt buttons'..... (Here's the full post).

Most posts on Soberistas get around five or six comments. A really good one might get about twenty. This post, in the last 14 hours, has had eighty-nine comments.

I've posted on day counting before (see Potholes in the Road). I used to count days avidly myself. If felt like a crucial marker, charting progress. Then I got to 4 months sober, and the individual days just didn't seem to matter any more. Now I count months (and that really is progress). I hope that one day I'll be counting years.

I read all the comments on the controversial post. Several things struck me.

Firstly, there are strong opinions on both sides of this debate. For some people the day count is sacrosanct, and the fear of going back to day 1 is partly what keeps them on the straight and narrow.

For others, it seems terribly unfair to suggest that a short 'blip,' after several weeks or months of sobriety, should negate all the good work done. Better just to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and keep going.

My view? I think we should all do whatever works for us. The crucial thing is to get there in the end, with whatever help, props, or large slices of cake we require.  We all have to learn the lessons for ourselves. We all have to go through it.

No-one can convince you, for example, that moderation is impossible. You have to work that one out on your own..... (often again and again and again).

The second thing I was reminded of by reading the comments is how terrified we all are of being judged. For us drinkers, the fear of judgement is one huge trigger.

We drank because we felt judged. We were judged because we drank. Terrible vicious circle. One thing we have to get used to when we quit is to drop this fear. The truth is that most people are far too wrapped up in their own lives to give a hoot about yours....

The third thing I realised, reading all the comments urging acceptance and peace, is how much we all hate conflict. Certainly I did. The slightest hint of conflict - even with my own children - and I'd reach for the bottle. Uh oh, all getting a little tense around here....better have a drink.

Funnily enough, we'd drink to avoid conflict and then, a few drinks down and BAM, uncontrollable rage. Suddenly you're chucking a mug at the husband because he's not helping you with the dishwasher! (see my post on Alcohol Induced Rage).

So, Laura, if you're reading this, I hope you're not worried about the s**tstorm! You've made people think, and you've distracted them from the Wine Witch. So well done you, and well done everyone, however you count, or don't count, your days....

Love SM x

Tell Me Why I Don't Like Mondays

I was singing along to the Boomtown Rats classic 'I Don't Like Mondays' the other day in the car. I looked, as ever, like a lunatic, yelling I wanna Sho-oo-oo-oot the whole day down.

I thought about all the many, awful Monday mornings that I've lived through. Monday: truly the very worst day of the week....

My Monday mornings would start at about 4am, when I'd wake up from a sweaty, restless sleep, filled with strange dreams that I couldn't quite remember, but made me feel uneasy.

For the next few hours I would toss and turn, replaying the events of the weekend in my head. How much had I drunk (again)? What had I meant to achieve but failed to (again)? What had I meant not to do, but done (again)?

I'd get up, go to the loo, go down to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water, get back into bed, toss and turn. Repeat. For several hours which felt like days.

Usually I'd fall asleep at about 6am, just in time to be woken up by the alarm at 6.20am.

Then the horror of the school run, on little sleep and with a horribly muggy head. Like wading through toxic soup.

Accompanying all of this would be a little voice in my head going something like this: well here we are again you promised this wouldn't happen will you ever learn you really are utterly useless this'll be another wasted day feeling awful with nothing achieved when are you going to grow up and get a grip you're not a teenager any more you have responsibilities you are a mother a useless one admittedly what sort of an example do you think you're setting bet the other mothers on the school run can tell what a mess you are look at them in their hip pristine gym kit with their rosy glow and bags of energy look at you you're an embarrassment oh for gods sake your shirt's on inside out bloody typical can't get anything right...

So I would try to pacify the voice of self loathing with the voice of empty promises. It went like this: I know I know I hear you today is going to be day 1 of the new regime I am not going to drink until the weekend well apart from Thursday when we have a dinner party to go to and when I do drink I will alternate every glass of wine with a glass of water I will absolutely not ever ever drink more than half a bottle of wine at a time in fact perhaps I will skip the wine altogether and only drink beer because I don't even like beer or maybe I will drink only beer during the week and wine at weekends whatever in any case I am definitely going to do something this can't go on...

But then, by 5pm - or possibly even a little earlier - the Wine Witch would pipe up.

She'd say I know you have all these good intentions. I'm with you, obviously. Things have to change. But is Monday really a good day to start? You feel awful after the weekend. You've done really well to get this far though the day without dropping any balls. It's best to cut down gradually. Have just a glass or two to take the edge off. Then we can start for real tomorrow....

And the Wine Witch always won.

But now? I love Mondays!

Monday: truly the very best day of the working week.

All that potential. Seven days stretching ahead, all shiny and new, waiting to be filled up.

I wake up, recharged after the weekend, and bounce out of bed (God, I'm irritating. Apologies).

I take out my big, old fashioned, leather bound diary and go through the schedule for the week. I write a list of all the things I need to achieve, knowing that they're actually going to get done. I build in a few social events, a treat for the kids, a date night and something just for me.

And then, just for fun, I sit back with a cup of coffee and remember what Mondays used to be like....

If you're reading this on this Monday morning and haven't yet quit drinking then DO IT, and you'll never feel this bad on a Monday again.

Love SM x

Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP)

Dorothy was right when she said "there's no place like home." We are back after 3 weeks of wild, wonderful, feral living at the beach.

I'm on the third load of washing already, and the children have latched onto their various technical devices and linked up to our fast speed broadband like (yikes!) junkies finding a fix.

In between the surfing and rock pooling, I've been thinking about neuro-linguistic programming (as one does).

When we quit drinking we create a war between our conscious mind and our subconscious mind.

Our subconscious is incredibly powerful. It quietly deals with pretty crucial stuff like breathing, keeping our hear beating, and so on. It learns from our day to day experiences and applies those lessons to keep us safe and happy.

So, for example, if we burn ourselves on something hot, it tells us to move our hand away quickly (before our conscious mind has even had a chance to catch up), and then reminds us to avoid the hot thing in the future.

It's like a really clever computer.

We have taught our subconscious, over decades, to associate any stress, any fun, any boredom - pretty much any emotion at all - with having a drink.

Alcohol advertising and marketing is, basically, extremely sophisticated NLP. I know - I used to make it. Every image used, every word and piece of music is debated and researched at length. It speaks directly to our subconscious, telling it that alcohol is sophisticated, desirable and delicious.

The language we use is crucial, too. Every time we tell someone "I could really do with a drink" or "can't wait till wine o'clock" our subconscious learns and plays it back to us.

When we try to stop drinking, however much our conscious mind says "I am not going to drink. Drinking is bad. I am going to stay sober," our subconscious mind is going loopy. It starts getting louder and louder the more we try to ignore it. It says "FOR GOD'S SAKE LISTEN TO ME! I KNOW HOW TO SOLVE THIS ANGSTY FEELING! HAVE A GODDAMN DRINK!"

We have a name for this. We call it the wine witch.

(For more on this wily, evil crone see: The Wine Witch)

According to NLP, we can't just beat our subconscious into submission. Like a really clever computer we have to re-programme it.

We can do this by storing up new imagery and language to counter all those stored images of happy, sexy, relaxed people quaffing vino.

So, next time you get a craving, picture yourself as a strong, healthy, happy sober person.

Whenever you see the image in your mind of a glass of wine promising you stress relief, wipe it out and replace it with the image of a hot bubble bath, or a walk in the woods, or a yoga class.

The more you do this, the faster your subconscious will catch up. (See my post on visualisation: I am Khaleesi)

You can use negative visualisation too. When you look at a glass of wine, strip away all the fancy branding and see it as the poison it really is. Whenever you think about having 'just one glass' then play it forward. Force yourself to remember where one glass leads.

Apparently this is why blogging helps too. Every time I write 'SoberMummy' my subconscious picks it up. Every time I type I DO NOT DRINK, it remembers.

Which is why you have to be careful when you fib to people. Because whenever I tell my friends "Oh no, of course it's not forever. Just a temporary detox," I'm undoing all my good work.

NLP theory explains why moderation is so hard, if not impossible. You work really, really hard to retrain your subconscious. You get to a point where it sees alcohol as a negative, a poison. It's started seeing 'sober' as a positive thing and not a state of endless misery....

.....and what do you do? You have one drink. You fire up all the dopamine receptors in your brain. Your subconscious says "that wasn't so bad was it? We're not poisoned. I remember how effective this can be as a stress reliever, a way to relax. Hell, it's fun!" All the learned responses you've spent months trying to get rid of come flooding back.

Your conscious mind says "Don't even think about it! We're not having another one of those for at least a week."

Your subconscious replies "MORE! NOW!"

So don't try and fight your subconscious. Just think about it as a stroppy toddler that needs a bit of re-training. Work with it, and it can be your friend.

Love SM x

Insecurity

Over and over again, when I read people's stories about how they ended up with a major drink issue, I hear them talk about growing up feeling like an outsider. A square peg in a round hole, not fitting in.

They go on to describe how, as a teenager, alcohol made them feel - for the first time - 'whole'. Included. Secure.

This is often quoted as evidence for an alcoholic 'type' - people with a hole in the soul.

But, you know what? I look at my eldest and remember all that teenage stuff - trying to get to grips the world and your place in it, whilst dealing with raging hormones and a body which won't stop changing. And it strikes me that surely ALL teenagers feel like that underneath. How can they not?

I used to tell people frequently that my life changed when I was about twenty five and I stopped caring what people thought of me. Is it a co-incidence that that's the age when I started drinking more and more?

Looking back, I'm not sure that I ever really stopped caring - I just found a way to mask it, not to deal with it.

And when you stop drinking, all the insecurities come back. You can find yourself standing on the outskirts at parties thinking "do people think I'm boring? Am I wearing completely the wrong outfit? Are they talking about me?" in a way you haven't done since you were nineteen.

So, decades later, it's time to learn how to properly cope with teenage angst. And I think I'm getting to the solution....

....you have to remember that everyone else feels the same.

Think back to all the 'insiders', the round pegs in round holes from your teenage years. Do you think now that they really had all the answers? How is that even possible at the age of sixteen or seventeen? I bet if you asked them they'd confess to having been as riddled with as many insecurities as you!

And the same is true of most adults.

How many 'perfect' marriages have you admired, only to find out that both parties secretly hated each other and have been having wild affairs? How many friends do you have with seemingly wonderful lives who you know are struggling terribly with debt, or depression, or similar?

I know from this blog and all the e-mails I receive that no-one's life is what it seems to the onlooker. There's Facebook life, and there's reality, and very little overlap between the two.

Learning to judge yourself by your insides, and not other peoples' outsides is the key to serenity, not a glass of vino.

And who wants to be a standard shaped peg in a standard shaped hole anyway? Who wants to be stuck in a gaggle of identikit followers?

Isn't it better to be on the outside leading the way? Like us.

Love SM x

Making Amends

A few days back, I mentioned that this time last year - also on holiday in Cornwall - my Mum told me she was worried about my drinking. She also said that I needed to lose weight.

I was, obviously, very aware that she was right on both counts. So, you'd think that I would agree with her, thank her for her maternal concern and resolve to take action.

You'd be wrong. I threw all my toys out of the pram. I accused her of being cruel, ignorant and hypocritical. I stomped off to my room with a goblet of wine and then made snide remarks for the rest of the week.

When I wrote about this, almost in passing, you lot jumped on it and told me - quite rightly - that I should apologise to my poor mother and tell her she was right.

I have to confess that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Isn't that awful?

We don't really do 'talking about emotional stuff' in my family. In fact, I wonder whether the British 'stiff upper lip' thing is part of the reason we're so renowned for drunkenness. We need some way of dealing with the emotions we feel unable to display or discuss.

My reaction was: that was twelve months ago. Water under the bridge. It's obvious that I'm sorry and she was right - look at me! A stone (14 pounds, 7 kilos) lighter, and nearly 6 months sober - obviously I took it on board...

But saying sorry is the right thing to do. It's good karma. It's what we teach our children. And I know, from my kids, that a belated apology usually means more, and is more thought through, than a knee jerk one at the time.

One of the cornerstones of AA (still haven't been; still planning to) is 'making amends'. The Big Book states that in order to achieve freedom and serenity you need to make peace with the past.

Likewise, Beck - in his book 'Alcohol Lied to Me' (it's good, if a little preachy and irritating at times) is adamant that 'living in the present' is key to success. He states that worrying about the past or the future gets in the way.

So, I've been trying to find the right time to say sorry. I kept putting it off. It stuck in my throat. I was fighting against years of conditioning.

Eventually I cornered my poor Mum in the kitchen.

"I've been meaning to say something to you," I blurted out.

She looked startled. Like a hedgehog in the headlights.

"When you told me last year that I drank too much and was too fat I was horrible to you. I made you cry. But you were right, and I'm sorry."

"Gosh, I'd forgotten about that," she said (probably fibbing), looking stunned but rather....chuffed. "I'm sorry if I was a little blunt. But look at you now! I'm so proud of you - what willpower. You really don't want to turn into a slob."

(I'm aware that my Mum hadn't got a handle on the real issue. Her major concern was me 'letting myself go', but I don't think that matters).

We hugged. We coughed in a rather embarrassed fashion. We carried on chopping vegetables and changed the subject.

But I feel a weight off my shoulders. And I think I made my Mum really happy.

'Making amends' is about more than saying sorry - it's about putting things right. But I know that, as far as my Mum's concerned, quitting the drink (and, as a result, losing the weight) is all the reparation she wanted.

So, all is good with the Universe, and I hope all is good with you too....

Thank you for making me do that. As always, you were right.

Love SM x

Did I Overreact?

The problem with 'getting better', getting to the point where it seems so normal being sober that you can't remember what the problem was, is that the Wine Witch immediately senses the chink in the armour and dives in there with the question.....

......did I overreact?

Bet you've been there! It goes like this: so now I've been sober for x days I realise that I'm perfectly able to cope without alcohol. It's great! I'd never, ever want to go back to drinking x bottles of x per week. That would be madness!

.....But, typical me, in my all-or-nothing way, I overreacted with this 'total abstinence' malarkey. Now I see the light, I can have just one drink on special occasions.  After all, I'm not a 'proper' alcoholic. I never did x or y. Luckily I nipped it all in the bud just in time. Phew!

I have this one playing on an endless loop. At least once a week it reappears.

At this point I often re-read Jason Vale. But I'm bored reading the same book over again. So I've found 'Alcohol Lied to Me' by Beck. So far it's the same argument, just put in a different way, which makes a refreshing change.

So, the next time you get the 'did I overreact' bug, remember this:

The word 'alcoholic' is a red herring. Everyone who drinks alcohol (an addictive poison) is addicted to some extent, the question is just 'how badly?'

The issue with separating people into 2 camps: 'normal' and 'alcoholic' is, firstly, we spend stupid amounts of time trying to work out which camp we're in (remember all those ridiculous questionnaires?!?) as absolutely no-one ever wants to be in the second camp.

Secondly, the accepted conclusion is that if we're in the first camp we should carry on merrily, regardless of our doubts and the problems alcohol causes us.

But, if we're in the second camp, we HAVE to stop. No free will involved. In fact, according to AA, we should 'surrender' our free will and give ourselves up to a 'higher power'.

Here's how I think about it instead:

I don't care (any more) whether or not I am, or you think I am, an alcoholic.

I was, definitely, addicted to alcohol. No shame in that. Millions of people are.

I didn't HAVE to stop drinking, I CHOSE to stop drinking, because I realise that my life is immeasurably better without it.

I CHOOSE not to have even one drink because I know that that will allow the addiction to creep back in, and also because I've realised that I DO NOT NEED IT.

Alcohol took away my free will, but now I have it back and I am strong and fearless (most of the time!)

So long as you see quitting as being something you 'have' to do, so long as you envy the 'normal' drinker and see yourself as 'abnormal' it will be hard, if not impossible.

It doesn't need to be. CHOOSE to do this, for yourself, because it's better. You are not denying yourself anything; you are giving yourself a wonderful gift.

SM x

Rebranding Sober and Marie Helvin

Part of my job used to be taking tired old brands and making them relevant and sexy again.

One brand that's terribly in need of a revamp is 'sober'. And - even more so - 'teetotal'.

Both adjectives always conjured up images for me of very dull, boring sad cases. Puritanical, holier than thou types. Old biddies playing bingo while sipping endless cups of tea. Or reformed addicts - constantly atoning for the past and unable to look further ahead than one day.

'Sober' and 'teetotal' have never been fashionable. Those words have never screamed supermodel.

So I say Hurrah for Marie Helvin who, in a recent interview, said that she's quit drinking.

Marie is not only one of the world's most famous supermodels, but she is still modelling lingerie (that's underwear to us mere mortals) at the age of 62. She says:

The year I turned 60 I decided to give up alcohol as I felt it had no place in my life: I didn't enjoy it any longer and it was not how I wanted to spend my free time. I like to do more physical, adventurous things, pursuits where I need to be alert and focused, such as diving.

(Good point, Marie. It's awfully tricky to go diving and drink vino simultaneously. Note to self: take up diving).

...I like the clarity. I grew up a child of the 60s trying every kind of drug I could get my hands on. Now it's a different kind of high - being focused.

I wish I'd known that just by stopping drinking my skin colour and tone would improve, my eyes would be brighter, sleep would no longer be a problem, and my energy levels would soar.

The more people like Marie Helvin start publicising the benefits of sober, the easier it'll be for the rest of us.

A few more converts like Marie, and I could even become fashionable for the first time in my life! We'll be surfing that zeitgeist, my friends.

And perhaps if I keep up the whole not drinking thing for long enough, I too can be modelling lingerie in my sixties....

....or perhaps not.

Love to all you gorgeous people!

SM x