Day 56, and it's #2's birthday!
The rule in the SoberMummy house is that, when it's your birthday, you get to design your perfect day.
#2 is a creature of habit. He knows what he likes. So there were no surprises. Today's schedule involved starting with the grand present ritual, moving onto a day at Legoland, and ending up with steak frites and chocolate fondant at his favourite restaurant. Exactly the same as last year. And the year before.
The grand present ritual starts when the birthday person wakes up (usually around 7am). They then wake everyone else up, and everyone piles into Mr and Mrs SoberMummy's bed (including the terrier). The birthday person then has to find all the presents hidden around the room (warmer....warmer...colder....boiling hot!) and open them (to lots of oohs and ahhs).
Whilst today was ostensibly the same as the last two years, it was also completely different.
For a start, I didn't have to feign enthusiasm when an overexcited small person jumped on my head at 7am. I woke up, on a Sunday morning, after a Saturday night, just as excited that morning had arrived as he was.
Once we'd littered the bedroom with wrapping paper and managed to get everyone dressed and ready, we set off for Legoland.
Now, when I was #2's age, I loved theme parks. My idea of a perfect day out was charging around the roller coasters, dodgems, water slides and so on. But I grew out of all that years ago. I thought everyone did. On the last few visits to Legoland (and the like), I would plaster a grin to my face and hope no-one could tell that I'd much rather be at home in my favourite armchair with the Sunday papers and a large glass of wine.
But today - bizarrely, and totally unexpectedly, I rediscovered my sense of wonder. I sat with the children, park maps spread out, planning what we would do first, then next, then after that. I went down the water shoot 3 times - happily. I queued patiently. I went up and down and upside down, and had a blast.
It stuck me as totally ironic that we alcohol addicts end up emotionally immature, and yet prematurely jaded. And in giving up the booze I am simultaneously growing up and finding my inner child.
So whilst I am, in a myriad of ways, terrified of the 'never agains', there are some 'never agains' that I embrace wholeheartedly. For example:
1. Never again will I feel guilty because I cannot match my child's excitement at 7am on their birthday.
2. Never again will I have to cope with a theme park or a soft play centre with a hangover.
3. Never again will I waste days of my precious life wishing I was somewhere else.
Happy birthday #2, and lots of love to all of you.
SM x
Related post: Sundays: hair of the dog, Discovering mindfulness
Showing posts with label mummy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mummy. Show all posts
Sunday, 26 April 2015
Sunday, 12 April 2015
I am Khaleesi!
Day 42, and I have been reading up on visualisation techniques (that's visualization for my friends on the other side of the pond).
Visualisation has been around for centuries, and has roots in meditation, prayer and hypnotherapy. Many top sportspeople use visualisation, and Arnold Schwarzenegger famously took the visualisation techniques he used in body building and applied them to acting and politics.
Arnie says: "I visualized myself being and having what it was I wanted. Before I had my first Mr Universe title, I walked around the tournament like I owned it. I had won it so many times in my mind that there was no doubt I would win it. Then I moved onto the movies, the same thing. I visualized myself being a famous actor and earning big money. I just knew it would happen."
Think about the improbability of a scarily pumped up Austrian with an unintelligible accent becoming Governor of California, and you start to think that maybe there's something in this visualisation malarkey.
There are 3 ways to use visualisation on the road to getting and staying sober. The first is in relaxation and stress relief. The idea is that around wine o'clock, instead of thinking about pinot grigio, you find a quiet spot (like in a hot bath) and imagine yourself in your 'happy place'. Try and use all your senses - smell, feeling, sounds, colours, taste. Cravings only last ten minutes, so this can help you ride the storm.
My current favourite 'happy places' are: (1) On a deserted beach on Koh Samui with Buck the Texan (see Sober in Switzerland for the full story) (2) On the back of a horse galloping along the Cornish headland with my arms wrapped around the rippling, glistening six pack of Poldark (only my English friends will get that one) and, my favourite (3) In a calorie free cup cake bakery with the gorgeous husband and kids. What's yours?
The second way to use visualisation is the Arnie way - to imagine your future success. Here you picture yourself where you want to be in a year's (pick your own timeframe) time. My future visualisation is of a sober, skinny, beautifully dressed and groomed me, at the book launch of my soon-to-be-bestselling novel, surrounded by friends, family and my proud, happy, well behaved and well adjusted kids.
Future visualisations are believed to help with focus, confidence, motivation and self esteem. Knowing what you are working towards and really believing it can happen is the first step to changing your life. There are even those who claim that visualising a positive future can actually make it happen. This is referred to as the 'law of attraction.' It sounds like poppycock, but there are many studies showing that people who think positively have more positive outcomes, and vice versa.
But my favourite way of using visualisation is what I refer to as the 'kick ass method'. Alan Carr suggests visualising your cravings, or your 'inner addict', as a writhing snake or a monster. Every time you deny the snake a drink it dies a little. You have to keep going until it's well and truly despatched. One small sip and it leaps back into life.
In a similar vein, we all talk about the 'wine witch'. It's easier to beat your inner addict when you picture it as a vile, manipulative crone and not just your own subconscious. I like to take this one step further and imagine myself in 'kick ass' persona, battling with, and beating the enemy with great style and panache.
I first used this technique when I was promoted to the board of my Ad Agency. When I went into board meetings as the youngest, and one of the only female members, I would picture myself as Madonna circa 1987 wearing one of those cone tipped bras and leather hotpants. I also imagined that my nipples could fire laser guns on demand. Needless to say, I swaggered into those meetings with far more panache and confidence than I'd have had without Madge.
Apologies to Madonna, to whom I will always be grateful, but I have updated her. I am now Khaleesi from the Game of Thrones. Khaleesi - aka Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons - strong, wise and beautiful. You would never, ever see Khaleesi reach for the Chablis when in a spot of trouble. Oh no! She would let loose her army of Unsullied. Khaleesi would never have a problem overcoming a little addiction. This woman can walk through flames and come out unscathed!
So whenever the wine witch comes tapping on my shoulder, I picture Khaleesi and let lose my three dragons, burning the evil bitch to a cinder without hesitation or wavering. (n.b. it's important to ignore the end of Season 4 when Khaleesi's dragons turn bad and start frying small children).
You know where I'll be on Monday evening? Series 5 of Game of Thrones starts in the UK on Sky Atlantic. I'll be on the sofa with my hot chocolate cheering on Khaleesi as she gets ever closer to the iron throne.
Happy hangover free Sunday to you all.
Love SM x
Related posts: Discovering mindfulness
Visualisation has been around for centuries, and has roots in meditation, prayer and hypnotherapy. Many top sportspeople use visualisation, and Arnold Schwarzenegger famously took the visualisation techniques he used in body building and applied them to acting and politics.
Arnie says: "I visualized myself being and having what it was I wanted. Before I had my first Mr Universe title, I walked around the tournament like I owned it. I had won it so many times in my mind that there was no doubt I would win it. Then I moved onto the movies, the same thing. I visualized myself being a famous actor and earning big money. I just knew it would happen."
Think about the improbability of a scarily pumped up Austrian with an unintelligible accent becoming Governor of California, and you start to think that maybe there's something in this visualisation malarkey.
There are 3 ways to use visualisation on the road to getting and staying sober. The first is in relaxation and stress relief. The idea is that around wine o'clock, instead of thinking about pinot grigio, you find a quiet spot (like in a hot bath) and imagine yourself in your 'happy place'. Try and use all your senses - smell, feeling, sounds, colours, taste. Cravings only last ten minutes, so this can help you ride the storm.
My current favourite 'happy places' are: (1) On a deserted beach on Koh Samui with Buck the Texan (see Sober in Switzerland for the full story) (2) On the back of a horse galloping along the Cornish headland with my arms wrapped around the rippling, glistening six pack of Poldark (only my English friends will get that one) and, my favourite (3) In a calorie free cup cake bakery with the gorgeous husband and kids. What's yours?
The second way to use visualisation is the Arnie way - to imagine your future success. Here you picture yourself where you want to be in a year's (pick your own timeframe) time. My future visualisation is of a sober, skinny, beautifully dressed and groomed me, at the book launch of my soon-to-be-bestselling novel, surrounded by friends, family and my proud, happy, well behaved and well adjusted kids.
Future visualisations are believed to help with focus, confidence, motivation and self esteem. Knowing what you are working towards and really believing it can happen is the first step to changing your life. There are even those who claim that visualising a positive future can actually make it happen. This is referred to as the 'law of attraction.' It sounds like poppycock, but there are many studies showing that people who think positively have more positive outcomes, and vice versa.
But my favourite way of using visualisation is what I refer to as the 'kick ass method'. Alan Carr suggests visualising your cravings, or your 'inner addict', as a writhing snake or a monster. Every time you deny the snake a drink it dies a little. You have to keep going until it's well and truly despatched. One small sip and it leaps back into life.
In a similar vein, we all talk about the 'wine witch'. It's easier to beat your inner addict when you picture it as a vile, manipulative crone and not just your own subconscious. I like to take this one step further and imagine myself in 'kick ass' persona, battling with, and beating the enemy with great style and panache.
I first used this technique when I was promoted to the board of my Ad Agency. When I went into board meetings as the youngest, and one of the only female members, I would picture myself as Madonna circa 1987 wearing one of those cone tipped bras and leather hotpants. I also imagined that my nipples could fire laser guns on demand. Needless to say, I swaggered into those meetings with far more panache and confidence than I'd have had without Madge.
Apologies to Madonna, to whom I will always be grateful, but I have updated her. I am now Khaleesi from the Game of Thrones. Khaleesi - aka Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons - strong, wise and beautiful. You would never, ever see Khaleesi reach for the Chablis when in a spot of trouble. Oh no! She would let loose her army of Unsullied. Khaleesi would never have a problem overcoming a little addiction. This woman can walk through flames and come out unscathed!
So whenever the wine witch comes tapping on my shoulder, I picture Khaleesi and let lose my three dragons, burning the evil bitch to a cinder without hesitation or wavering. (n.b. it's important to ignore the end of Season 4 when Khaleesi's dragons turn bad and start frying small children).
You know where I'll be on Monday evening? Series 5 of Game of Thrones starts in the UK on Sky Atlantic. I'll be on the sofa with my hot chocolate cheering on Khaleesi as she gets ever closer to the iron throne.
Happy hangover free Sunday to you all.
Love SM x
Related posts: Discovering mindfulness
Friday, 10 April 2015
5 signs that you're a problem drinker
Today is Day 40! Woo hoo - the big FOUR OH. Have a glass of veuve cliquot to celebrate! Oh, whoops - perhaps best not....
I used to be - and still am - obsessed with those quizzes called things like 'are you an alcoholic?' or 'signs that you're a problem drinker.' The problem is that I always found them too reassuring, despite the fact that I was drinking at least one bottle of wine a day.
I would happily stick crosses against questions like: Do you get the shakes in the morning? Do you get blackouts? Have your friends and/or family asked you to cut down? And, until 41 days ago (see Secret Drinker Hits the High Bottom) I confidently shook my head to 'Have you ever drunk in the morning? and Do you hide alcohol?'
But these questions were providing a false sense of security. We all have different 'ah ha' moments - those things that, in the middle of the night when we're wrestling the demons and sweating out the Chablis, make us realise that our drinking is actually a bit of a problem.
So, in the interests of honesty, and so that I have a written record to remind myself what life was like BS (before sober), here were my five signs. Please do, for the benefit of any worried drinkers reading this, add your own in the comments below...
(1) Dealing with hangovers
I started to notice that most people who wake up with chronic hangovers have the reaction 'Oh my God, I am never, ever, going to drink again'. And, indeed, they manage not to for at least a day or two. My reaction to a hangover had become 'Oh my God, I am never going to feel better until I can legitimately (i.e. after 12pm) have another drink.' This, I eventually realised was a sign.
(2) Trying, and failing, to 'moderate'
Problem drinkers all desperately want to be able to moderate. We do all sorts of deals with ourselves. Do any of these sound familiar: I will not drink on school nights? I will not drink before 6pm/before dinner/at lunch times? I will not drink alone/at home? I will not drink spirits/wine? I made many of these deals with the wine witch over the year or two before I quit and I was never able to keep to them for more than a week or two. This was another sign.
(3) Obsession
I started to spend more and more time thinking about drinking. For example, an hour or so before 'wine o'clock' I would start to obsessively check my watch. I would check my fridge daily to see how much wine was available, and plan my shopping trips around school runs accordingly. If the husband and I were 'sharing' a bottle I would constantly check that I was getting at least my share (hopefully more). Spending lots of time thinking about drinking is not a good sign.
(4) Physical and Mental Health
I was never hospitalised. I never blacked out or threw up. My doctor never twigged how much I was drinking (I 'fessed up' to 14 units a week - lol). But I had a terrible wine belly. I was overweight and puffy. I had debilitating insomnia (see sleep, glorious sleep), and I was miserable and stuck in a rut. It took a long time to twig that these were all signs.
(5) Deception
I have always prided myself on being really open and honest, but towards the end of my glittering drinking career I started to lie. I lied to myself - constantly - about how much I was drinking. I lied to my GP (see above). I 'confessed' to my friends to drinking 'oooh, about half a bottle a day - isn't that terrible?' And then I started to hide half full bottles of wine in the cupboard so that when the husband came home I could pretend that I hadn't started drinking yet. For me, this soul destroying deception was the final sign.
So, next time the wine witch whispers in my ear that 'I wasn't so bad really. I've done 40 days without wine already, surely I can have just one?' I can re-read this post and remind myself how much better life is without all of that stuff.
If you're a drinker and recognise yourself in any of this then please do join me on this rollercoaster of sobriety. It's worth it.
Love SM x
I used to be - and still am - obsessed with those quizzes called things like 'are you an alcoholic?' or 'signs that you're a problem drinker.' The problem is that I always found them too reassuring, despite the fact that I was drinking at least one bottle of wine a day.
I would happily stick crosses against questions like: Do you get the shakes in the morning? Do you get blackouts? Have your friends and/or family asked you to cut down? And, until 41 days ago (see Secret Drinker Hits the High Bottom) I confidently shook my head to 'Have you ever drunk in the morning? and Do you hide alcohol?'
But these questions were providing a false sense of security. We all have different 'ah ha' moments - those things that, in the middle of the night when we're wrestling the demons and sweating out the Chablis, make us realise that our drinking is actually a bit of a problem.
So, in the interests of honesty, and so that I have a written record to remind myself what life was like BS (before sober), here were my five signs. Please do, for the benefit of any worried drinkers reading this, add your own in the comments below...
(1) Dealing with hangovers
I started to notice that most people who wake up with chronic hangovers have the reaction 'Oh my God, I am never, ever, going to drink again'. And, indeed, they manage not to for at least a day or two. My reaction to a hangover had become 'Oh my God, I am never going to feel better until I can legitimately (i.e. after 12pm) have another drink.' This, I eventually realised was a sign.
(2) Trying, and failing, to 'moderate'
Problem drinkers all desperately want to be able to moderate. We do all sorts of deals with ourselves. Do any of these sound familiar: I will not drink on school nights? I will not drink before 6pm/before dinner/at lunch times? I will not drink alone/at home? I will not drink spirits/wine? I made many of these deals with the wine witch over the year or two before I quit and I was never able to keep to them for more than a week or two. This was another sign.
(3) Obsession
I started to spend more and more time thinking about drinking. For example, an hour or so before 'wine o'clock' I would start to obsessively check my watch. I would check my fridge daily to see how much wine was available, and plan my shopping trips around school runs accordingly. If the husband and I were 'sharing' a bottle I would constantly check that I was getting at least my share (hopefully more). Spending lots of time thinking about drinking is not a good sign.
(4) Physical and Mental Health
I was never hospitalised. I never blacked out or threw up. My doctor never twigged how much I was drinking (I 'fessed up' to 14 units a week - lol). But I had a terrible wine belly. I was overweight and puffy. I had debilitating insomnia (see sleep, glorious sleep), and I was miserable and stuck in a rut. It took a long time to twig that these were all signs.
(5) Deception
I have always prided myself on being really open and honest, but towards the end of my glittering drinking career I started to lie. I lied to myself - constantly - about how much I was drinking. I lied to my GP (see above). I 'confessed' to my friends to drinking 'oooh, about half a bottle a day - isn't that terrible?' And then I started to hide half full bottles of wine in the cupboard so that when the husband came home I could pretend that I hadn't started drinking yet. For me, this soul destroying deception was the final sign.
So, next time the wine witch whispers in my ear that 'I wasn't so bad really. I've done 40 days without wine already, surely I can have just one?' I can re-read this post and remind myself how much better life is without all of that stuff.
If you're a drinker and recognise yourself in any of this then please do join me on this rollercoaster of sobriety. It's worth it.
Love SM x
Thursday, 9 April 2015
I hate the word 'normal'
Day 39. Back at home. Another week of school holidays left and it's hard.
During term time I get at least a couple of hours during the day to 'de-stress'. Like many of you, I've found that going to the gym, taking the dog for a walk, meeting a friend for a coffee, cooking food for the freezer or just blogging and reading take my mind off the not drinking and give me the strength to cope with the more 'full on' bits of the day, and the dreaded 'wine o'clock'.
When #1, #2 and #3 are on holiday, all day, every day is full on, so when it gets round to 'wine o'clock' I'm on my knees and finding it very difficult to step away from the wine rack.
So, today I got up while the children were still fast asleep to blog, and *spoiler alert*, I feel the need to RANT. I realise that many of you will not agree with the following argument, and I even realise that in a few weeks/months/years time I may not agree with it myself, but at this point in time I:
HATE THE WORD NORMAL. I particularly hate the expression NORMAL DRINKER.
Over the last 39 days I have read LOADS of books on getting sober, and lots of amazing sober blogs and personal stories, and they are all (including my own) littered with the word NORMAL.
We compare ourselves endlessly to the 'normal drinker'. We admire them. We envy them. And as a result we secretly hate them (go on - confess!). But the problem is that, in defining them as 'normal', by implication we believe ourselves to be 'abnormal'. Freaks. Sad case losers. Well SOD OFF!
(I told you I was cross today).
I turned to the good old world wide web. I found this amazing article in the Washington Post from last September. According to this article (based on government statistics), 3 in 10 American adults do not drink at all! Who knew? (Incidentally, in the UK it's only around 2 in 10). Another 3 in 10 drink less than one drink a week. That leaves only 40% of American adults who drink more than one drink a week.
Here's the interesting bit. 1 in 10 US adults drink more than 10 drinks a day. That's 2 bottles of wine a day. Now, if you add those two sets of facts together it means that of the American adults who drink more than one drink a week, ONE QUARTER of them are drinking more than two bottles of wine a day. I double checked the maths (and I did get a first in econometrics from Oxford, back in the day), and I'm sure it's right.
How can one quarter of all drinkers (I don't include the 'less than one drink a week' people as drinkers) be abnormal?
These statistics, I think, back up Jason Vale's argument that there is no such thing as an 'abnormal' drinker or, indeed, an 'alcoholic'. He argues that alcohol is a highly addictive substance - just like nicotine and heroin - and that ALL regular drinkers are addicts, the question is just how far down the slippery slope you have slid.
We don't look at people who smoke 5 cigarettes a day and call them 'normal smokers' versus those on a packet a day. Nor do we define the occasional heroin user as 'normal'. Why do we treat alcohol so differently?
Jason argues that we shouldn't envy the 'normal' drinker. They are trapped too (just less far into the cage), and if you suggested to them that they gave up their two small glasses of wine per night they'd be horrified! They may be 'moderating' but they, too, are constantly watching their intake and setting themselves parameters.
How many times have you heard your 'normal drinker' friends talk about "giving up for January. Not drinking on school nights. Shouldn't have more than one"? Many (if not most) of them deal with the wine witch, too, it's just that she hasn't got as loud and insistent with them (yet).
So who is normal? The person poisoning themselves on a regular basis and slipping further and further into the trap, or us - the alcohol free?
Besides, I've never aspired to 'normality' anyway.
Now I feel much calmer. Better go wake up the kids. Onwards and upwards.
SM x
Related post: Am I an Alcoholic?
During term time I get at least a couple of hours during the day to 'de-stress'. Like many of you, I've found that going to the gym, taking the dog for a walk, meeting a friend for a coffee, cooking food for the freezer or just blogging and reading take my mind off the not drinking and give me the strength to cope with the more 'full on' bits of the day, and the dreaded 'wine o'clock'.
When #1, #2 and #3 are on holiday, all day, every day is full on, so when it gets round to 'wine o'clock' I'm on my knees and finding it very difficult to step away from the wine rack.
So, today I got up while the children were still fast asleep to blog, and *spoiler alert*, I feel the need to RANT. I realise that many of you will not agree with the following argument, and I even realise that in a few weeks/months/years time I may not agree with it myself, but at this point in time I:
HATE THE WORD NORMAL. I particularly hate the expression NORMAL DRINKER.
Over the last 39 days I have read LOADS of books on getting sober, and lots of amazing sober blogs and personal stories, and they are all (including my own) littered with the word NORMAL.
We compare ourselves endlessly to the 'normal drinker'. We admire them. We envy them. And as a result we secretly hate them (go on - confess!). But the problem is that, in defining them as 'normal', by implication we believe ourselves to be 'abnormal'. Freaks. Sad case losers. Well SOD OFF!
(I told you I was cross today).
I turned to the good old world wide web. I found this amazing article in the Washington Post from last September. According to this article (based on government statistics), 3 in 10 American adults do not drink at all! Who knew? (Incidentally, in the UK it's only around 2 in 10). Another 3 in 10 drink less than one drink a week. That leaves only 40% of American adults who drink more than one drink a week.
Here's the interesting bit. 1 in 10 US adults drink more than 10 drinks a day. That's 2 bottles of wine a day. Now, if you add those two sets of facts together it means that of the American adults who drink more than one drink a week, ONE QUARTER of them are drinking more than two bottles of wine a day. I double checked the maths (and I did get a first in econometrics from Oxford, back in the day), and I'm sure it's right.
How can one quarter of all drinkers (I don't include the 'less than one drink a week' people as drinkers) be abnormal?
These statistics, I think, back up Jason Vale's argument that there is no such thing as an 'abnormal' drinker or, indeed, an 'alcoholic'. He argues that alcohol is a highly addictive substance - just like nicotine and heroin - and that ALL regular drinkers are addicts, the question is just how far down the slippery slope you have slid.
We don't look at people who smoke 5 cigarettes a day and call them 'normal smokers' versus those on a packet a day. Nor do we define the occasional heroin user as 'normal'. Why do we treat alcohol so differently?
Jason argues that we shouldn't envy the 'normal' drinker. They are trapped too (just less far into the cage), and if you suggested to them that they gave up their two small glasses of wine per night they'd be horrified! They may be 'moderating' but they, too, are constantly watching their intake and setting themselves parameters.
How many times have you heard your 'normal drinker' friends talk about "giving up for January. Not drinking on school nights. Shouldn't have more than one"? Many (if not most) of them deal with the wine witch, too, it's just that she hasn't got as loud and insistent with them (yet).
So who is normal? The person poisoning themselves on a regular basis and slipping further and further into the trap, or us - the alcohol free?
Besides, I've never aspired to 'normality' anyway.
Now I feel much calmer. Better go wake up the kids. Onwards and upwards.
SM x
Related post: Am I an Alcoholic?
Saturday, 4 April 2015
Not the girl he married
Thirteen years ago my husband married a party girl. A bon viveur.
Until recently our lives revolved around entertaining friends over boozy Sunday lunches, getting happily plastered at parties and cooking elaborate dinners accompanied by expensive wine. 'Date nights' generally involved meals out at the latest restaurant with aperitifs, wine and digestifs. Followed by a nightcap.
And now he's married to a teetotaller. I signed up to this - he didn't. He wanted me to cut down (drastically). He didn't ask (or want) me to stop completely.
The difference is especially stark now we're on holiday. I haven't asked him not to drink. I'm happy to have alcohol in the house. After all, it's unrealistic to avoid alcohol given that 90% of the adult population drink the stuff. But he very kindly doesn't leave open bottles of wine around - at home he's switched to beer, and I join him with a non alcoholic beer.
When we eat out he orders a small carafe of wine (having checked that I don't mind first). But I can't help worrying that he's missing the company. That he's missing the girl he married.
In my low moments BS (before sober), usually at around 3am, I'd have visions of the husband leaving the puffy, boozy, raddled wife and running off with a younger, slimmer, more vibrant version.
Now in my low moments I have the same vision, but in this one they are happily sharing a bottle of wine in a romantic bistro. Aaarrrggghhh! Stab the filthy hussy drinking in moderation in the eyes! Leave my husband alone, damn you.
There's a lot of help and discussion for families of problem drinkers, but not much help - as far as I know - for husbands of non-drinkers.
The problem is that I can't even discuss my fears with him as he's too kind to ever confess to any pangs of regret, so whatever he says I won't believe him.
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for drunker and more sober.....
Love to you all,
SM xx
Related post: Not the Girl he Married Part 2
Until recently our lives revolved around entertaining friends over boozy Sunday lunches, getting happily plastered at parties and cooking elaborate dinners accompanied by expensive wine. 'Date nights' generally involved meals out at the latest restaurant with aperitifs, wine and digestifs. Followed by a nightcap.
And now he's married to a teetotaller. I signed up to this - he didn't. He wanted me to cut down (drastically). He didn't ask (or want) me to stop completely.
The difference is especially stark now we're on holiday. I haven't asked him not to drink. I'm happy to have alcohol in the house. After all, it's unrealistic to avoid alcohol given that 90% of the adult population drink the stuff. But he very kindly doesn't leave open bottles of wine around - at home he's switched to beer, and I join him with a non alcoholic beer.
When we eat out he orders a small carafe of wine (having checked that I don't mind first). But I can't help worrying that he's missing the company. That he's missing the girl he married.
In my low moments BS (before sober), usually at around 3am, I'd have visions of the husband leaving the puffy, boozy, raddled wife and running off with a younger, slimmer, more vibrant version.
Now in my low moments I have the same vision, but in this one they are happily sharing a bottle of wine in a romantic bistro. Aaarrrggghhh! Stab the filthy hussy drinking in moderation in the eyes! Leave my husband alone, damn you.
There's a lot of help and discussion for families of problem drinkers, but not much help - as far as I know - for husbands of non-drinkers.
The problem is that I can't even discuss my fears with him as he's too kind to ever confess to any pangs of regret, so whatever he says I won't believe him.
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for drunker and more sober.....
Love to you all,
SM xx
Related post: Not the Girl he Married Part 2
Thursday, 26 March 2015
Day 25 - Packing Up
Today is Packing Day. At 4am tomorrow Family SoberMummy depart for our annual ski holiday in the Swiss Alps. It sounds flashy, but since I gave up the lucrative career after #3's arrival we have done ski-ing 'on the cheap'.
Our ski holiday involves driving for 16 hours - through the channel tunnel, across the breadth of France and over a mountain range into Switzerland. It is always nerve wracking as we can never guarantee that the old banger is going to make it.
One year we broke down in France at lunch time (which the French take very seriously). We had to wait for hours until one of the local mechanics had finished his dejeuner before we could be towed away and repaired. Another year our licence plate fell off. We only realised when we tried to cross the border and were yelled at by the border police. Luckily, I have spent years doing arts and crafts with children and was able to make a temporary one out of cardboard and sticky backed plastic (thank you Blue Peter!). Plus, at least twice we've been caught in blizzards while crossing the mountains.
We stop at the last Hypermarche in France to buy all our food and drink as it's way cheaper than in the ski resorts, but after ten hours or so driving, the last thing you want to do is to drag 3 children round a supermarket! The final leg of the journey involves trying to fit snow chains on all the tyres in the dark (and often in a white out), to get up the final mountain to our (self-catering) apartment.
But then we wake up on Saturday morning and there will be icicles hanging from all the windows, and we'll look out onto the snowy alps and breathe in the cold, crisp air - and it'll all be worth it. Well, for the husband and #1, #2 and #3 it will. They will throw themselves down sheer rock faces shrieking with glee. Then they all wait at the bottom pointing up and laughing at me while I slowly edge down thinking "I have not got time for a broken leg" and "God, I need a drink".
Needless to day, this trip is usually fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol. There's the 'helping with the packing' bottle (the result of which is that, whilst all the children's stuff is remembered and neatly packed, I invariably forget something crucial of my own - like knickers), the 'thank god we've arrived' bottle, the 'we're on holiday and it's lunch time' bottle, the 'I made it down alive' bottle, etc etc. This time I'm going to have to have the bottle to do it all without the bottle.
On the upside, I will be away from all the usual triggers: my fridge, the wine rack in the hall, the wine shop, my drinking buddies and so on. Plus, I've found that the most effective way to beat cravings is being outdoors and exercise, and there's going to be loads of outdoors and exercise. And the beautiful Swiss Alps have to be the very best place to practice Mindfulness.
I notice that I have loads of readers in the UK and US, plus lots in places like Ireland, Finland, Belgium, Spain, France and the Netherlands. But only 2 page views from Switzerland - and I bet those were in error. I reckon the Swiss are just too sensible (and live in a place too beautiful) to end up as alcohol addicts. After all, Switzerland is where all the mad English aristocracy were sent to 'take the cure' in Victorian times - they got bored of all the fresh air and clinics so they tied planks to their feet and invented downhill skiing - I kid you not.
Given that we are doing budget holiday, our apartment has no wifi. I will try to post from a café or something while I'm away, as writing this blog and reading your comments has become rather an addiction in itself, but I'm not sure how easy it will be so do not worry if I go quiet for ten days. I may have fallen off a mountain, but I will not fall off the wagon. (repeat endlessly to self).
If you're new to this blog then "HELLO AND WELCOME!" and please do check out some of my previous posts while I'm away. Here are some ideas:
If you're looking for some good reasons for not drinking then have a look at: The wine belly, livers and mojos, sleep glorious sleep and why ex-drinkers rock.
If you want to know about the downsides of quitting look at: alcohol withdrawal symptoms, will I lose all my friends and fed up Friday.
If you're interested in my journey so far check out: Mummy was a secret drinker, the Maintenance drinker, secret drinker hits the high bottom, discovering mindfulness and Sundays - hair of the dog.
Love, and Happy Easter, to you all! SM x
Our ski holiday involves driving for 16 hours - through the channel tunnel, across the breadth of France and over a mountain range into Switzerland. It is always nerve wracking as we can never guarantee that the old banger is going to make it.
One year we broke down in France at lunch time (which the French take very seriously). We had to wait for hours until one of the local mechanics had finished his dejeuner before we could be towed away and repaired. Another year our licence plate fell off. We only realised when we tried to cross the border and were yelled at by the border police. Luckily, I have spent years doing arts and crafts with children and was able to make a temporary one out of cardboard and sticky backed plastic (thank you Blue Peter!). Plus, at least twice we've been caught in blizzards while crossing the mountains.
We stop at the last Hypermarche in France to buy all our food and drink as it's way cheaper than in the ski resorts, but after ten hours or so driving, the last thing you want to do is to drag 3 children round a supermarket! The final leg of the journey involves trying to fit snow chains on all the tyres in the dark (and often in a white out), to get up the final mountain to our (self-catering) apartment.
But then we wake up on Saturday morning and there will be icicles hanging from all the windows, and we'll look out onto the snowy alps and breathe in the cold, crisp air - and it'll all be worth it. Well, for the husband and #1, #2 and #3 it will. They will throw themselves down sheer rock faces shrieking with glee. Then they all wait at the bottom pointing up and laughing at me while I slowly edge down thinking "I have not got time for a broken leg" and "God, I need a drink".
Needless to day, this trip is usually fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol. There's the 'helping with the packing' bottle (the result of which is that, whilst all the children's stuff is remembered and neatly packed, I invariably forget something crucial of my own - like knickers), the 'thank god we've arrived' bottle, the 'we're on holiday and it's lunch time' bottle, the 'I made it down alive' bottle, etc etc. This time I'm going to have to have the bottle to do it all without the bottle.
On the upside, I will be away from all the usual triggers: my fridge, the wine rack in the hall, the wine shop, my drinking buddies and so on. Plus, I've found that the most effective way to beat cravings is being outdoors and exercise, and there's going to be loads of outdoors and exercise. And the beautiful Swiss Alps have to be the very best place to practice Mindfulness.
I notice that I have loads of readers in the UK and US, plus lots in places like Ireland, Finland, Belgium, Spain, France and the Netherlands. But only 2 page views from Switzerland - and I bet those were in error. I reckon the Swiss are just too sensible (and live in a place too beautiful) to end up as alcohol addicts. After all, Switzerland is where all the mad English aristocracy were sent to 'take the cure' in Victorian times - they got bored of all the fresh air and clinics so they tied planks to their feet and invented downhill skiing - I kid you not.
Given that we are doing budget holiday, our apartment has no wifi. I will try to post from a café or something while I'm away, as writing this blog and reading your comments has become rather an addiction in itself, but I'm not sure how easy it will be so do not worry if I go quiet for ten days. I may have fallen off a mountain, but I will not fall off the wagon. (repeat endlessly to self).
If you're new to this blog then "HELLO AND WELCOME!" and please do check out some of my previous posts while I'm away. Here are some ideas:
If you're looking for some good reasons for not drinking then have a look at: The wine belly, livers and mojos, sleep glorious sleep and why ex-drinkers rock.
If you want to know about the downsides of quitting look at: alcohol withdrawal symptoms, will I lose all my friends and fed up Friday.
If you're interested in my journey so far check out: Mummy was a secret drinker, the Maintenance drinker, secret drinker hits the high bottom, discovering mindfulness and Sundays - hair of the dog.
Love, and Happy Easter, to you all! SM x
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Livers and Mojos
It's just struck me, looking at that headline, that it sounds like the sort of healthy eating meal plan that Gwyneth Paltrow would post on Goop: Pan fried organic liver of guinea fowl with Peruvian mojo berries. But no. As you will be aware by now, I am no Gwynnie.
Talking of menus, this is a quick one as my mother - The Matriarch - known in the family as 'She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed' - is coming for lunch, which I have to do without a couple of glasses of vino 'to take the edge off'. The edge will most definitely remain on.
So, livers. I thought that having totally ignored mine for decades, I should do a bit of research and get to know it a bit better. Here's the basic scoop: livers are big and important, and alcohol screws them up.
A bit more detail: The liver is the largest and most complex organ in the body. It does all sorts of really important stuff like fighting disease, aiding digestion, getting rid of toxins and regulating sugar and cholesterol. Drinking 'heavily' (over government guidelines) can lead to liver disease.
There are 3 stages of 'alcoholic' liver disease: (1) Alcoholic fatty liver disease, (2) alcoholic hepatitis and (3) alcoholic cirrhosis. The bad news is that it's estimated that over 90% of heavy drinkers will have fatty liver disease. This disease does what it says on the tin: your liver gets fatty (and yellow - yuk), which is not good. The good news is that it is totally reversible. It turns out that the liver is pretty damn efficient at healing itself, and within 2 weeks of not drinking any alcohol it can get totally back to normal. Woo hoo!
Now, stage 1 is virtually symptomless, so most people are not diagnosed with liver disease until they get to stages 2 and 3 which are much more dangerous and difficult to treat. Cirrhosis is irreversible, and 50% of people diagnosed with it die within 5 years (if they don't stop drinking). Also, bear in mind that women are far more prone to alcoholic liver disease than men, especially if they're overweight.
In case you're worried, the symptoms of stage 2 liver disease are: weight loss, feeling sick, diarrhoea, loss of appetite, yellowing of the skin/eyes and pain in the top right of your abdomen. Here's a link to the NHS website.
Given that I have none of the above symptoms, I'm hoping that I've dodged the bullet and only reached stage 1. This means that after 22 days of not drinking I - hopefully - have a gorgeous, pink, healthy liver. Yay!
I was thinking about this yesterday (I am SO fed up with not being able to think about anything other than not drinking. How long is it going to take my head to shut up about it???) as I walked to school to pick up #2.
A car drove past slowly with two cool looking black guys in the front. They were young (and by that I mean under 35), and one was hanging out of the passenger side window. He whistled. I looked round to spot the hot blonde following me (bear in mind that I have walked past building sites untroubled for at least a decade). No-one there. He whistled again. I'm presuming he's lost his dog, but no dog in sight.
Eventually it hits me. Sod the healthy liver! Mama has her mojo back! Oh yeah, baby.
Talking of menus, this is a quick one as my mother - The Matriarch - known in the family as 'She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed' - is coming for lunch, which I have to do without a couple of glasses of vino 'to take the edge off'. The edge will most definitely remain on.
So, livers. I thought that having totally ignored mine for decades, I should do a bit of research and get to know it a bit better. Here's the basic scoop: livers are big and important, and alcohol screws them up.
A bit more detail: The liver is the largest and most complex organ in the body. It does all sorts of really important stuff like fighting disease, aiding digestion, getting rid of toxins and regulating sugar and cholesterol. Drinking 'heavily' (over government guidelines) can lead to liver disease.
There are 3 stages of 'alcoholic' liver disease: (1) Alcoholic fatty liver disease, (2) alcoholic hepatitis and (3) alcoholic cirrhosis. The bad news is that it's estimated that over 90% of heavy drinkers will have fatty liver disease. This disease does what it says on the tin: your liver gets fatty (and yellow - yuk), which is not good. The good news is that it is totally reversible. It turns out that the liver is pretty damn efficient at healing itself, and within 2 weeks of not drinking any alcohol it can get totally back to normal. Woo hoo!
Now, stage 1 is virtually symptomless, so most people are not diagnosed with liver disease until they get to stages 2 and 3 which are much more dangerous and difficult to treat. Cirrhosis is irreversible, and 50% of people diagnosed with it die within 5 years (if they don't stop drinking). Also, bear in mind that women are far more prone to alcoholic liver disease than men, especially if they're overweight.
In case you're worried, the symptoms of stage 2 liver disease are: weight loss, feeling sick, diarrhoea, loss of appetite, yellowing of the skin/eyes and pain in the top right of your abdomen. Here's a link to the NHS website.
Given that I have none of the above symptoms, I'm hoping that I've dodged the bullet and only reached stage 1. This means that after 22 days of not drinking I - hopefully - have a gorgeous, pink, healthy liver. Yay!
I was thinking about this yesterday (I am SO fed up with not being able to think about anything other than not drinking. How long is it going to take my head to shut up about it???) as I walked to school to pick up #2.
A car drove past slowly with two cool looking black guys in the front. They were young (and by that I mean under 35), and one was hanging out of the passenger side window. He whistled. I looked round to spot the hot blonde following me (bear in mind that I have walked past building sites untroubled for at least a decade). No-one there. He whistled again. I'm presuming he's lost his dog, but no dog in sight.
Eventually it hits me. Sod the healthy liver! Mama has her mojo back! Oh yeah, baby.
Monday, 23 March 2015
The Wine Belly
One of the worst side effects of a regular Chablis habit has to be the dreaded 'wine belly'.
Now, I'm not horribly fat. I'm a UK size 12 (14 on a bad day). For my American friends, that's a size 8. Doesn't sound too bad, does it? BUT I have a horrible, muffin topped wine belly.
As I sit here in my size 12 skinny jeans, a little roll of flab - like a child's rubber ring in the swimming pool - is hanging over my belt. Lovely.
If I lie down in the bath (spoiler alert, do not read this if you are eating lunch), and grab my belly fat with both hands it is - ironically - about the size of a bottle of vino.
The problem with being relatively slim except for the wine belly is that it makes you look 5 months pregnant. And there is nothing worse than some poor woman asking you when it's due, or a curious child asking talking about 'the baby in your tummy'. Plus, if you're at a party quaffing back the vino while looking up the duff you get a lot of hostile looks from the Pregnancy Police.
Not only is a wine belly not the best look aesthetically, it's also very bad for your health.
A wine belly gives you what's called 'the apple shape' where fat is stored around the abdomen and vital organs, rather than the bum and thighs. This is, according to the National Health Service website, the very worst place to store fat as it makes you far more prone to type 2 diabetes and heart disease.
According to the NHS, a woman's waist should ideally measure less than 32". 32"-35" is high, and over 35" is very high. They also suggest measuring your waist to hip ratio i.e. inches around waist divided by inches around hips. For women it should be less than 0.85.
Now my BMI is (just) in the normal range, but my waist (when I started this journey) was 36" and my waist to hip ratio was 0.87 - both of these measurements put me well into the danger zone. No surprise there!
So what causes the wine belly?
Well, wine, obviously! Booze has 7 calories per gram, making it the second most calorie rich micronutrient after fat. A bottle of vino usually contains at least 500 calories - that means that if you drink a bottle of wine a day you are drinking 2 extra day's worth of calories a week! A small glass of white wine (125ml - that's really small, right ladies?) contains the same number of calories as 6 teaspoons of sugar.
And that's not all - Dr Pamela M Peake (author of 'The Hunger Fix') claims that the body can't store calories from alcohol for later like it does calories from food, so it has to 'press pause' on your metabolism in order to deal with the alcohol and, while it does so, any calories you've eaten get stored as fat. Peeke adds that 'research has uncovered that alcohol especially decreases fat burn in the belly...that's why you never hear about beer hips - you hear about a beer belly.'
There are 2 other reasons why drinking alcohol leads to piling on pounds which I'm sure you'll be familiar with.
One is that drinking makes you lose your inhibitions, which means that you're far more likely to pile into the 'death by chocolate' at the end of a meal. The second is the dreaded hangover. Because your body needs energy to recover from your previous night's marathon, it makes you crave fat and carbohydrate rich foods (like the classic British fry up), and dehydration makes you even hungrier.
Confusingly, red wine contains something called 'resveratrol' which can help you burn fat, BUT (and it's a big but, or is that a big butt?) only if you drink no more than one glass a day. Excuse me for a minute while I grab my belly fat and roll on floor laughing.
So, after 3 whole weeks (yes! Count 'em! 1..2...3...yay!) of not drinking any alcohol at all, what has happened to my wine belly?
Bear in mind that I have tried many diets to shift it in the past. I've given up fat, I've given up carbs, I've ditched gluten and dairy. I've tried everything except giving up alcohol. This time I've given up nothing except alcohol. In fact, I've even added in a fair bit of chocolate and cake which I've never eaten much of before.
For the first week I didn't lose any weight (I think my body was busy re-hydrating), but now I'm steadily losing about 1.5 pounds per week. I've lost 3 pounds over all. I've also lost 1.5 inches off the belly.
It doesn't sound like a huge amount, but I swear that the 'jeans that don't lie' now fit really easily. I've also lost an inch off the bum.
Again, sounds insignificant, but child #1 said this morning "Mummy, I think your butt has got less saggy." Talk about damning with faint praise. She then continued "Your boobs are still saggy, though."
I bit back the urge to reply, for the hundredth time, that the saggy boobs are almost entirely the fault of #1, #2 and #3. Particularly #3 who refused a bottle for nearly a year (she doesn't take after her mother, does she?!).
I'm going to stop now and caress the old wine belly in a fond way because its days are numbered. Bye, bye belly, bye bye......
UPDATE: One year after writing this post I'd lost two stone, that's twenty-eight pounds, or 13 kilos, if you prefer. And the wine belly? What wine belly! Now when I look down I have a totally uninterupted view of my feet, and I can spend the money I used to spend on expensive vino on SHOES.
If you'd like to read the whole story of my first year after quitting booze, you can find my book - The Sober Diaries on Amazon by clicking here.
For more inspiration and information, visit the SoberMummy Facebook page here, and 'like' to stay updated.
Love to you all,
SoberMummy (Clare Pooley)
Sunday, 22 March 2015
Sundays - Hair of the Dog
Happy Sunday Morning Everyone!
Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a parallel universe where everything has ended up back to front. I remember when I was a child I used to think that if I dug a hole deep enough I'd end up in Australia where everything would be kind of similar but we'd all be standing upside down. (Did any of my Australian readers imagine ending up in London?). Well, giving up a chronic alcohol habit is a bit like that. For example, in the BS (Before Sober) days, Friday nights and Saturday nights were the best, and Sunday mornings were the pits. Now, AF (Alcohol Free), Friday and Saturday nights are the hardest BUT Sunday Mornings are our reward!
One of the best things about glorious, empty but filled with promise and expectation, Sunday Mornings AF is remembering the horror of Sunday Mornings BS. So here's a trip down memory lane:
4am Sunday morning: wake up, head pounding, dry mouth, dying for a wee. Gradually try to piece together exactly what led to feeling like this. Wish I hadn't. Lots of self hatred and self flagellation and empty promises to self to change. Endless trips to the loo and the fridge to get more water. Toss and turn until about 6.30am. Go back to sleep until woken up by kids and dog at 7ish. Try really hard not to be grumpy and horrible. Fail. Spend all morning wishing time away until midday when I can 'reasonably' open a bottle of wine 'while I'm getting lunch ready'. Watch minute hand on kitchen clock obsessively because I cannot drink in the morning. Only alcoholics do that, and I am not an alcoholic. Open bottle at 11.50am so glass is ready for midday. Drink first glass wine fast. Feel much better.
It strikes me now that one of the core differences between 'normal' drinkers and 'overly enthusiastic' drinkers is their attitude to hangovers. I was always amazed at people who would refuse a drink at Sunday lunch because they'd drunk too much the night before and 'couldn't face it'. Surely they knew that the only way to 'face it' was to drink more? I was an enthusiastic proponent of 'hair of the dog'.
The phrase 'hair of the dog' comes from a time when - bizarrely - it was believed that the cure for rabies was to put the 'hair of the dog that bit you' onto the rabid dog bite. There is also a great Swahili phrase for drinking off a hangover: kuzimua which means being assisted to wake up after a coma.
A recent scientific study Proof: the science of booze by Adam Rogers claims that 'hair of the dog' really is the only effective cure for a hangover. This is because alcoholic drinks contain methanol, which is poisonous, and doctors treat methanol poisoning with ethanol i.e. alcohol.
There is another, more worrying, reason why 'hair of the dog' works according to alcoholrehab.com and it's this: 'A common reason why heavy drinkers experience hangovers is that they have actually entered the early stages of withdrawal. By drinking alcohol the next morning they are preventing these withdrawal symptoms from taking hold.' Seems obvious, but I'd honestly never thought of it like that!
I checked out the good old National Health Service website for their advice on hangover cures, and found this classic line: 'The best way to avoid a hangover is not to drink.' Well no shit Sherlock (as they say, but not in front of the kids, obviously, or it's another pound in the swear box). But, acutally, that is what I am doing! And it's Sunday morning. Beautiful, glorious, Sunday morning, and I feel amazing!
So, here's my plan for the day. I will not be grumpy and clock watchy all morning followed by drunk and asleep most of the afternoon. Oh no. I am taking #1 and dog to park this morning for good walk and girlie chat. Come back and cook roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for lunch (oh yes, my French readers, it is not for nothing that you call us 'les rosbifs') Have judging of the great cheesecake bake off (yesterday husband and #1, inspired by the Great British Bake Off on TV, had an argument about who could make the best cheesecake. Their efforts, plus one from Waitrose, are in the fridge awaiting the family blind taste test). Collapse with Sunday papers. Take #2 and #3 to pet shop to buy birthday presents for the dog. Have birthday tea (with dog food cake and candles) for said dog. Play massive game of Monopoly or similar. Put kids in bed and watch 3 episodes back-to-back of latest box set with husband. Collapse into bed sober and happy.
So, Sundays are still about 'the dog'. But this one's six years old today, smelly, furry and totally loveable.
Enjoy your Sober Sunday my sober friends! And if you're reading this with a chronic hangover, pondering giving it all up then please join us!
Love SM x
Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a parallel universe where everything has ended up back to front. I remember when I was a child I used to think that if I dug a hole deep enough I'd end up in Australia where everything would be kind of similar but we'd all be standing upside down. (Did any of my Australian readers imagine ending up in London?). Well, giving up a chronic alcohol habit is a bit like that. For example, in the BS (Before Sober) days, Friday nights and Saturday nights were the best, and Sunday mornings were the pits. Now, AF (Alcohol Free), Friday and Saturday nights are the hardest BUT Sunday Mornings are our reward!
One of the best things about glorious, empty but filled with promise and expectation, Sunday Mornings AF is remembering the horror of Sunday Mornings BS. So here's a trip down memory lane:
4am Sunday morning: wake up, head pounding, dry mouth, dying for a wee. Gradually try to piece together exactly what led to feeling like this. Wish I hadn't. Lots of self hatred and self flagellation and empty promises to self to change. Endless trips to the loo and the fridge to get more water. Toss and turn until about 6.30am. Go back to sleep until woken up by kids and dog at 7ish. Try really hard not to be grumpy and horrible. Fail. Spend all morning wishing time away until midday when I can 'reasonably' open a bottle of wine 'while I'm getting lunch ready'. Watch minute hand on kitchen clock obsessively because I cannot drink in the morning. Only alcoholics do that, and I am not an alcoholic. Open bottle at 11.50am so glass is ready for midday. Drink first glass wine fast. Feel much better.
It strikes me now that one of the core differences between 'normal' drinkers and 'overly enthusiastic' drinkers is their attitude to hangovers. I was always amazed at people who would refuse a drink at Sunday lunch because they'd drunk too much the night before and 'couldn't face it'. Surely they knew that the only way to 'face it' was to drink more? I was an enthusiastic proponent of 'hair of the dog'.
The phrase 'hair of the dog' comes from a time when - bizarrely - it was believed that the cure for rabies was to put the 'hair of the dog that bit you' onto the rabid dog bite. There is also a great Swahili phrase for drinking off a hangover: kuzimua which means being assisted to wake up after a coma.
A recent scientific study Proof: the science of booze by Adam Rogers claims that 'hair of the dog' really is the only effective cure for a hangover. This is because alcoholic drinks contain methanol, which is poisonous, and doctors treat methanol poisoning with ethanol i.e. alcohol.
There is another, more worrying, reason why 'hair of the dog' works according to alcoholrehab.com and it's this: 'A common reason why heavy drinkers experience hangovers is that they have actually entered the early stages of withdrawal. By drinking alcohol the next morning they are preventing these withdrawal symptoms from taking hold.' Seems obvious, but I'd honestly never thought of it like that!
I checked out the good old National Health Service website for their advice on hangover cures, and found this classic line: 'The best way to avoid a hangover is not to drink.' Well no shit Sherlock (as they say, but not in front of the kids, obviously, or it's another pound in the swear box). But, acutally, that is what I am doing! And it's Sunday morning. Beautiful, glorious, Sunday morning, and I feel amazing!
So, here's my plan for the day. I will not be grumpy and clock watchy all morning followed by drunk and asleep most of the afternoon. Oh no. I am taking #1 and dog to park this morning for good walk and girlie chat. Come back and cook roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for lunch (oh yes, my French readers, it is not for nothing that you call us 'les rosbifs') Have judging of the great cheesecake bake off (yesterday husband and #1, inspired by the Great British Bake Off on TV, had an argument about who could make the best cheesecake. Their efforts, plus one from Waitrose, are in the fridge awaiting the family blind taste test). Collapse with Sunday papers. Take #2 and #3 to pet shop to buy birthday presents for the dog. Have birthday tea (with dog food cake and candles) for said dog. Play massive game of Monopoly or similar. Put kids in bed and watch 3 episodes back-to-back of latest box set with husband. Collapse into bed sober and happy.
So, Sundays are still about 'the dog'. But this one's six years old today, smelly, furry and totally loveable.
Enjoy your Sober Sunday my sober friends! And if you're reading this with a chronic hangover, pondering giving it all up then please join us!
Love SM x
Saturday, 21 March 2015
Fed up Friday - Angst and Wobbles
I suppose it was bound to happen. The last 19 days have been tough, but I've been generally positive about what I'm doing. I've been determined, upbeat, sometimes verging on euphoric (see my post from last Sunday on Mindfulness). Then last night I hit a wall.
It was Friday. The end of the week. I've done really well this week. And last week. And the week before. I just felt that I really deserved to be able to treat myself, let my hair down, go wild. Yet we have NO PLANS this weekend. None at all (except the usual kid based activities). I deliberately didn't organise any social events and we've had no invitations. Nada. Does everyone hate me because I'm a drunk? Does everyone hate me because I'm not a drunk? Aaarrrgghhh.
So, I pick #2 up from school. #1 and #3 have playdates (alright for some). I feel an overwhelming need to indulge. The boy and I go to a café and I order a piece of carrot cake. It must be at least half vegetable, right? When it arrives it's almost as big as my head, and doesn't look in the slightest vegetably. How can they serve portions that big? How could I have finished it? I feel physically sick, but no happier.
In the fridge I have 6 Becks Blue beers (alcohol free). I've never tried one of these, but I'd bought them especially for the weekend, thinking that I'd have one at the old 'wine o'clock'. I make it as far as 4.45pm (plus ca change!) and then crack open the (alcohol free) beer. Spookily, it looks just the same (not quite as much 'head'), tastes just the same and even makes me feel light headed. I double check the bottle. It is alcohol free. Either they're playing a sick joke or my head is so finely tuned to expect to feel drunk that it's slipped into that mode automatically!
Once I've drunk the beer and the light headedness has worn off I feel even worse. I'm fed up with being 'boring'. I'm fed up with the constant dialogue in my head about alcohol, with spending hours each day reading about it and writing about it and not getting anything else done. I'm not sure I want to live my life on an even keel rather than a roller coaster.
6.30pm and I have to pick up #1 and #3. I remind myself that in the 'old days' this would have caused me endless angst. Either I would have had to delay drinking on a Friday night until 7.30pm when I got the girls back home OR I would have spent ages working out how much I could drink without being over the limit or looking worse for wear to the girls' hostesses. As it was, I jumped in the car totally sober.
Husband came home, opened fridge and brightened up visibly when he saw the beer. "Just what I need after cycling home from the City!" You should have seen his face when he spotted the 'alcohol free' flash. Oh God, I'm ruining his life too! He sneaks a glass of wine from the kitchen cupboard surreptitiously, so as not to rub it in my face. I think about how much I'd love to rub a glass of wine in my face. Then neck it in one. I reminisce fondly about our decades of evenings sharing a bottle of wine (conveniently forgetting the fact that I'd usually have 'pre-loaded' with at least another half bottle first).
We watch a family movie. #2 and #3 have a god almighty barney about who gets which end of the sofa and spend ages 'accidentally' kicking each other. I wish (again) that I could self-medicate with the bottle of St Emilion that the husband's hid behind his chair. I look back at some of my early posts and I think "OMG I sound so smug."
The wine witch starts whispering in my ear. I try desperately to beat her off. She says: "It's Friday night! You need to be able to celebrate the weekend!" I think back "But it's not just Friday night, is it? It's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and every other night." She says "Just have one! That can't do any harm." I remind myself "It wouldn't be just one, would it? It would be the whole bottle." She says "You've done nearly three weeks! You'll have re-defined your relationship with alcohol. Now you can moderate!" Well, now she's bought out the big guns. The classic moderation argument. I've been here before - again and again. I know that even if I can 'moderate' for a while it won't be long before I'm back where I started, doing DAY 1 all over again.
So, I remind myself again and again about how bad it got. I re-read Secret Drinker hits the High Bottom. Then I think about all of you guys - about Kags, Justine, Wendy, Laura, Jen, Emily, Bethany and everyone else who's been kind enough to post comments. I think about my lovely friend, Philippa (now 9 years sober and an addiction counsellor) who is the only person I know who has my blog url. And the main reason I don't physically wrestle the Saint Emilion from the husband and drink it from the bottle is that I don't want to let you all down.
So thank you all, because today I feel much better. Apart from the fact that I seem to have gained a pound in the last 24 hours - damned carrot cake.
Onwards and upwards, soberly.....
It was Friday. The end of the week. I've done really well this week. And last week. And the week before. I just felt that I really deserved to be able to treat myself, let my hair down, go wild. Yet we have NO PLANS this weekend. None at all (except the usual kid based activities). I deliberately didn't organise any social events and we've had no invitations. Nada. Does everyone hate me because I'm a drunk? Does everyone hate me because I'm not a drunk? Aaarrrgghhh.
So, I pick #2 up from school. #1 and #3 have playdates (alright for some). I feel an overwhelming need to indulge. The boy and I go to a café and I order a piece of carrot cake. It must be at least half vegetable, right? When it arrives it's almost as big as my head, and doesn't look in the slightest vegetably. How can they serve portions that big? How could I have finished it? I feel physically sick, but no happier.
In the fridge I have 6 Becks Blue beers (alcohol free). I've never tried one of these, but I'd bought them especially for the weekend, thinking that I'd have one at the old 'wine o'clock'. I make it as far as 4.45pm (plus ca change!) and then crack open the (alcohol free) beer. Spookily, it looks just the same (not quite as much 'head'), tastes just the same and even makes me feel light headed. I double check the bottle. It is alcohol free. Either they're playing a sick joke or my head is so finely tuned to expect to feel drunk that it's slipped into that mode automatically!
Once I've drunk the beer and the light headedness has worn off I feel even worse. I'm fed up with being 'boring'. I'm fed up with the constant dialogue in my head about alcohol, with spending hours each day reading about it and writing about it and not getting anything else done. I'm not sure I want to live my life on an even keel rather than a roller coaster.
6.30pm and I have to pick up #1 and #3. I remind myself that in the 'old days' this would have caused me endless angst. Either I would have had to delay drinking on a Friday night until 7.30pm when I got the girls back home OR I would have spent ages working out how much I could drink without being over the limit or looking worse for wear to the girls' hostesses. As it was, I jumped in the car totally sober.
Husband came home, opened fridge and brightened up visibly when he saw the beer. "Just what I need after cycling home from the City!" You should have seen his face when he spotted the 'alcohol free' flash. Oh God, I'm ruining his life too! He sneaks a glass of wine from the kitchen cupboard surreptitiously, so as not to rub it in my face. I think about how much I'd love to rub a glass of wine in my face. Then neck it in one. I reminisce fondly about our decades of evenings sharing a bottle of wine (conveniently forgetting the fact that I'd usually have 'pre-loaded' with at least another half bottle first).
We watch a family movie. #2 and #3 have a god almighty barney about who gets which end of the sofa and spend ages 'accidentally' kicking each other. I wish (again) that I could self-medicate with the bottle of St Emilion that the husband's hid behind his chair. I look back at some of my early posts and I think "OMG I sound so smug."
The wine witch starts whispering in my ear. I try desperately to beat her off. She says: "It's Friday night! You need to be able to celebrate the weekend!" I think back "But it's not just Friday night, is it? It's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and every other night." She says "Just have one! That can't do any harm." I remind myself "It wouldn't be just one, would it? It would be the whole bottle." She says "You've done nearly three weeks! You'll have re-defined your relationship with alcohol. Now you can moderate!" Well, now she's bought out the big guns. The classic moderation argument. I've been here before - again and again. I know that even if I can 'moderate' for a while it won't be long before I'm back where I started, doing DAY 1 all over again.
So, I remind myself again and again about how bad it got. I re-read Secret Drinker hits the High Bottom. Then I think about all of you guys - about Kags, Justine, Wendy, Laura, Jen, Emily, Bethany and everyone else who's been kind enough to post comments. I think about my lovely friend, Philippa (now 9 years sober and an addiction counsellor) who is the only person I know who has my blog url. And the main reason I don't physically wrestle the Saint Emilion from the husband and drink it from the bottle is that I don't want to let you all down.
So thank you all, because today I feel much better. Apart from the fact that I seem to have gained a pound in the last 24 hours - damned carrot cake.
Onwards and upwards, soberly.....
Friday, 20 March 2015
Am I an alcoholic?
I hate the word alcoholic. This is the first time I've used it in this blog. I'm sure that my loathing of the term is partly why I didn't stop drinking years ago. By defining people as 'alcoholic' there's an implication that it's all very black and white: you're either a normal person or you're an alcoholic. Yet what I see all around me is - to coin a phrase - fifty shades of grey.
Several times over the years (usually after a big night out, with a crashing hangover) I've typed 'am I an alcoholic' into Google. Generally you get one of those quizzes (I've always loved quizzes!). The questions can vary quite a bit, so there's obviously no agreement on which are the best ones. Here's an example from one I Googled this morning:
1. Do you lose time from work due to drinking? No
2. Is drinking making your home life unhappy? Not really
3. Do you drink because you are shy with other people? God, no
4. Is drinking affection your reputation? No, I was very secret about it
5. Have you ever felt remorse after drinking? Is the Pope Catholic?
6. Have you had financial difficulties because of drinking? No
7. Do you turn to inferior companions and environments when drinking? Goodness no, only the very nicest wine bars with lovely friends!
8. Does drinking make you careless of your family's welfare? I very much hope not!
9. Has your ambition decreased since drinking? Yes, probably, but I only realised that once I stopped!
10. Do you crave a drink at the same time daily? Yes, absolutely.
There are ten more questions. I answered 'yes' to sleeping badly and drinking alone, but no to all the questions about being hospitalised, blacking out, seeing my doctor and so on. And after all that, what was the result? You may have a problem with alcohol or be an alcoholic.
Well I knew that I 'may have a problem with alcohol.' That's why I'm doing your stupid questionnaire! I want to know if I do have a problem with alcohol. And since I answered 'no' to 70% of the questions I'm thinking 'Well, that's all right then! Carry on! Crack open the Pouilly Fume.' But, quite obviously, drinking 1 or 2 bottles of wine a day for a decade is not okay, even if many of your friends are doing it too.
The amazing Jason Vale (read his 'Kick the drink, easily' if you haven't already) says, bravely, 'there is no such thing as an alcoholic'. He believes, and it makes sense, that alcohol is an addictive drug just like any other. Anyone who drinks regularly is an alcohol addict, it's just a question of how far down the slippery slide you've slid. And it's a very good idea to get of the slide before you hit 'rock bottom' or, what society defines as 'alcoholism', but Jason would call chronic alcohol addiction.
The problem is that we are terrified of getting off the slippery slide and quitting alcohol because then we will be admitting to ourselves and others that we are an alcoholic, and that word has a really bad rap. It comes loaded with terrible imagery of tramps quaffing methylated spirits and mothers passing out on the floor in a pool of vomit in front of their children. It means admitting to an incurable illness, and resigning ourselves to be miserable for the rest of our lives! Jason Vale points out that 'alcohol is the only drug in the world where, when you stop taking it, you are seen as having a problem.'
I was a terrible nicotine addict, but I gave up 13 years ago and I do not define myself now as a nicotin-aholic. I am a non smoker. I am nicotine free! I am an ex-addict who saw the light.
Likewise, I do not want to spend the rest of my life standing up in a church hall in front of strangers saying "My name's SoberMummy and I am an alcoholic." I do not want to define myself by a negative. I want to shout "I am a non-drinker! I am alcohol free! I used to be an addict - like millions of people worldwide - but I was brave enough and wise enough to quit. Hurrah!"
I honestly believe that when we manage to rebrand the ex drinker as wise, strong, clever and alcohol free, rather than an ill, sad, struggling 'alcoholic' far more people will jump onto the wagon. So, I'm starting a movement - one blog at a time. Anonymously. And isn't that ironic!
If you're reading this thinking 'am I an alcoholic?', then please forget the terminology, it's a red herring. You, like all regular drinkers, are probably addicted to alcohol. It's a horribly additive substance, so there's no shame in that. The sooner you quit, the easier it is, and - believe me, and millions of others - you'll never regret it.
Good luck this weekend, everyone! Let me know how you get on....
Related Posts: Secret Drinker Hits the High Bottom, Why so many well educated, middle aged women drink, Why ex-drinkers rock! Am I an alcoholic? Part 2
Several times over the years (usually after a big night out, with a crashing hangover) I've typed 'am I an alcoholic' into Google. Generally you get one of those quizzes (I've always loved quizzes!). The questions can vary quite a bit, so there's obviously no agreement on which are the best ones. Here's an example from one I Googled this morning:
1. Do you lose time from work due to drinking? No
2. Is drinking making your home life unhappy? Not really
3. Do you drink because you are shy with other people? God, no
4. Is drinking affection your reputation? No, I was very secret about it
5. Have you ever felt remorse after drinking? Is the Pope Catholic?
6. Have you had financial difficulties because of drinking? No
7. Do you turn to inferior companions and environments when drinking? Goodness no, only the very nicest wine bars with lovely friends!
8. Does drinking make you careless of your family's welfare? I very much hope not!
9. Has your ambition decreased since drinking? Yes, probably, but I only realised that once I stopped!
10. Do you crave a drink at the same time daily? Yes, absolutely.
There are ten more questions. I answered 'yes' to sleeping badly and drinking alone, but no to all the questions about being hospitalised, blacking out, seeing my doctor and so on. And after all that, what was the result? You may have a problem with alcohol or be an alcoholic.
Well I knew that I 'may have a problem with alcohol.' That's why I'm doing your stupid questionnaire! I want to know if I do have a problem with alcohol. And since I answered 'no' to 70% of the questions I'm thinking 'Well, that's all right then! Carry on! Crack open the Pouilly Fume.' But, quite obviously, drinking 1 or 2 bottles of wine a day for a decade is not okay, even if many of your friends are doing it too.
The amazing Jason Vale (read his 'Kick the drink, easily' if you haven't already) says, bravely, 'there is no such thing as an alcoholic'. He believes, and it makes sense, that alcohol is an addictive drug just like any other. Anyone who drinks regularly is an alcohol addict, it's just a question of how far down the slippery slide you've slid. And it's a very good idea to get of the slide before you hit 'rock bottom' or, what society defines as 'alcoholism', but Jason would call chronic alcohol addiction.
The problem is that we are terrified of getting off the slippery slide and quitting alcohol because then we will be admitting to ourselves and others that we are an alcoholic, and that word has a really bad rap. It comes loaded with terrible imagery of tramps quaffing methylated spirits and mothers passing out on the floor in a pool of vomit in front of their children. It means admitting to an incurable illness, and resigning ourselves to be miserable for the rest of our lives! Jason Vale points out that 'alcohol is the only drug in the world where, when you stop taking it, you are seen as having a problem.'
I was a terrible nicotine addict, but I gave up 13 years ago and I do not define myself now as a nicotin-aholic. I am a non smoker. I am nicotine free! I am an ex-addict who saw the light.
Likewise, I do not want to spend the rest of my life standing up in a church hall in front of strangers saying "My name's SoberMummy and I am an alcoholic." I do not want to define myself by a negative. I want to shout "I am a non-drinker! I am alcohol free! I used to be an addict - like millions of people worldwide - but I was brave enough and wise enough to quit. Hurrah!"
I honestly believe that when we manage to rebrand the ex drinker as wise, strong, clever and alcohol free, rather than an ill, sad, struggling 'alcoholic' far more people will jump onto the wagon. So, I'm starting a movement - one blog at a time. Anonymously. And isn't that ironic!
If you're reading this thinking 'am I an alcoholic?', then please forget the terminology, it's a red herring. You, like all regular drinkers, are probably addicted to alcohol. It's a horribly additive substance, so there's no shame in that. The sooner you quit, the easier it is, and - believe me, and millions of others - you'll never regret it.
Good luck this weekend, everyone! Let me know how you get on....
Related Posts: Secret Drinker Hits the High Bottom, Why so many well educated, middle aged women drink, Why ex-drinkers rock! Am I an alcoholic? Part 2
Wednesday, 18 March 2015
Why Ex-Drinkers Rock!
We ex-drinkers get a really bad rap. Which is why so many of us stay in the closet for weeks, if not months or years, after quitting drinking. If you give up smoking you tell the world and everyone pats you on the back. Give up drinking and you mumble apologetically about 'being on antibiotics.' Why?
It's not at all surprising when you look at the image of the ex-drinker. We're seen as weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill, addicted. Which makes absolutely no sense at all. How can you - Mrs drinker - accuse me of being weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill and addicted when I haven't had a drink for 16 days (woo hoo!), while you're still downing the best part of a bottle every evening? Who's really the weak willed one? I'm the healthy, normal person - not the lady who is still obsessed by 'wine o'clock' and doing terrible damage to her liver every day.
We are not lacking in self control. We're the ones who've looked hard at our lives and decided to do something about it, despite swimming against the tide of the rest of society. We are bl***y strong, and we should be wearing t-shirts celebrating the fact, not hiding behind 'an important meeting in the morning' or 'got to drive home'.
Okay, maybe in the past we had an eeensy little issue with moderation, but is that such an awful thing? I bet we're not moderate in anything, and on the whole that's laudable.
I may have been hopeless at moderating nicotine (I smoked 30 a day before giving up 13 years ago) and alcohol, but I don't moderate the good stuff either. Anything I do, I do with gusto - the career, friendship, motherhood, marriage - and my drinking buddies were the same.
I met some of the most interesting and wonderful people smoking behind the bike sheds and staying late at the party with an additional bottle. We were the rebels - the ones who loved pushing the boundaries and riling against the rules. And I'm still a rebel at heart, and proud of it. Personally, I would much rather chat to the ex-drinker at a party than the person who's never coloured outside the lines.
We are not bad people, we're people with a massive lust for life who have just realised that we've got to the stage where we need to re-focus our enthusiasm onto something a bit less self-destructive. And whatever we re-focus on we'll do brilliantly.
Now, I'm not ready to come out yet and deal with everyone else's negative perceptions, but I'm sure as hell not going to beat myself up when I'm doing the bravest and best thing I've done in my life to date.
I rock! And so do you! So they can stick that in their oversized wine glass and drink it.
Apologies to my regular readers, but I'm going to have to stop posting every day and post every two or three days instead. I've got to do something about the finished novel languishing in my desk drawer, plus I'm worried about running out of stuff to say. I don't want to start boring you! I will reply to comments daily, though, so please stay in touch. And if you have any topics you'd like me to post on then please let me know.
Have a great, immoderate, day. SM x
Related post: Why Ex-Drinkers Rock! Part 2
It's not at all surprising when you look at the image of the ex-drinker. We're seen as weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill, addicted. Which makes absolutely no sense at all. How can you - Mrs drinker - accuse me of being weak willed, lacking in self control, abnormal, ill and addicted when I haven't had a drink for 16 days (woo hoo!), while you're still downing the best part of a bottle every evening? Who's really the weak willed one? I'm the healthy, normal person - not the lady who is still obsessed by 'wine o'clock' and doing terrible damage to her liver every day.
We are not lacking in self control. We're the ones who've looked hard at our lives and decided to do something about it, despite swimming against the tide of the rest of society. We are bl***y strong, and we should be wearing t-shirts celebrating the fact, not hiding behind 'an important meeting in the morning' or 'got to drive home'.
Okay, maybe in the past we had an eeensy little issue with moderation, but is that such an awful thing? I bet we're not moderate in anything, and on the whole that's laudable.
I may have been hopeless at moderating nicotine (I smoked 30 a day before giving up 13 years ago) and alcohol, but I don't moderate the good stuff either. Anything I do, I do with gusto - the career, friendship, motherhood, marriage - and my drinking buddies were the same.
I met some of the most interesting and wonderful people smoking behind the bike sheds and staying late at the party with an additional bottle. We were the rebels - the ones who loved pushing the boundaries and riling against the rules. And I'm still a rebel at heart, and proud of it. Personally, I would much rather chat to the ex-drinker at a party than the person who's never coloured outside the lines.
We are not bad people, we're people with a massive lust for life who have just realised that we've got to the stage where we need to re-focus our enthusiasm onto something a bit less self-destructive. And whatever we re-focus on we'll do brilliantly.
Now, I'm not ready to come out yet and deal with everyone else's negative perceptions, but I'm sure as hell not going to beat myself up when I'm doing the bravest and best thing I've done in my life to date.
I rock! And so do you! So they can stick that in their oversized wine glass and drink it.
Apologies to my regular readers, but I'm going to have to stop posting every day and post every two or three days instead. I've got to do something about the finished novel languishing in my desk drawer, plus I'm worried about running out of stuff to say. I don't want to start boring you! I will reply to comments daily, though, so please stay in touch. And if you have any topics you'd like me to post on then please let me know.
Have a great, immoderate, day. SM x
Related post: Why Ex-Drinkers Rock! Part 2
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
Alcohol Induced Rage
My UK readers will be aware that Jeremy Clarkson has been all over the news this week. For the benefit of the non-Brits (by the way, welcome to my reader(s) in Antigua!), Jeremy Clarkson is a very well known, well loved TV presenter over here. Jeremy presents Top Gear - one of our most popular TV programmes, and one of our most lucrative exports.
Last week Jeremy got into a brawl with his producer in a hotel in Yorkshire because, allegedly, his producer had the nerve to produce a plate of cold meat and cheese for his dinner instead of the steak he'd asked for. As a result the BBC have suspended all showings of Top Gear and Jeremy is under investigation and will, despite huge popular support, probably lose his job.
I took one look at Jeremy's florid complexion, puffy jowls, confused and depressed expression and thought "ladies - he's one of us." Some commentators claim that he'd spent 'several hours in the pub' prior to the brawl, some that he didn't drink at all. His boss has muttered (on the record) about re-hab. It looks to me (and this is purely speculation, and not in any way an accusation) like a classic case of alcohol induced rage. Either rage due to too much alcohol or too little...
We've all been there, haven't we? Many times I've picked a fight with the poor, longsuffering husband when he's got back from work and I've been (secretly) 2/3 of a bottle down. I've slammed cupboard doors passive aggressively and considered hurling a wooden spoon across the kitchen as a result of some (imagined) slight. Jeremy, allegedly, called his producer a 'lazy, Irish ****' and punched him in the face - splitting his lip. I never went that far. Apart from anything else, my husband isn't Irish.
Professor McMurran - a psychologist at Nottingham University - says that alcohol "narrows our focus of attention and gives us tunnel vision....If someone provokes us while we're drunk, we don't take other factors into account, such as the consequences of rising to the bait. This can lead to violent reactions from people who would usually shrug things off." Also, because alcohol lowers inhibitions our warning systems don't go off and "this can put us in dangerous or confrontational situations."
The Prof goes on to say that alcohol affects the way we process information so we are more likely to misinterpret information - to see insults where there are none. That's why so many fights start "because he looked at me the wrong way."
When I was in the high powered job (with the bar in the office), I remember having two large glasses of wine with a colleague at lunch. When I got back to my desk I found an e-mail from a very important, global client asking for a number of changes to the edit of the new TV commercial we'd just shot. I fired off a reply in (drunken) high umbrage, calling him a Neanderthal nincompoop who was obviously unable to appreciate a work of true artistic genius. This e-mail became famous and made me a heroine in the creative department, but it got me fired off the business and could easily have lost me my job.
Funnily enough, since giving up the booze I've not picked one fight. I've been - relatively - Zen. I am a thing of wondrous calm and serenity.
So I look at lovely, raddled, remorseful Jeremy and think: log on to www.mummywasasecretdrinker.blogspot.com Jezza, and we'll give you a big virtual hug and persuade you of the magical restorative powers of hot chocolate.
Love, peace and calm to you all X
Related post: Alcohol Induced Rage Part 2
Last week Jeremy got into a brawl with his producer in a hotel in Yorkshire because, allegedly, his producer had the nerve to produce a plate of cold meat and cheese for his dinner instead of the steak he'd asked for. As a result the BBC have suspended all showings of Top Gear and Jeremy is under investigation and will, despite huge popular support, probably lose his job.
I took one look at Jeremy's florid complexion, puffy jowls, confused and depressed expression and thought "ladies - he's one of us." Some commentators claim that he'd spent 'several hours in the pub' prior to the brawl, some that he didn't drink at all. His boss has muttered (on the record) about re-hab. It looks to me (and this is purely speculation, and not in any way an accusation) like a classic case of alcohol induced rage. Either rage due to too much alcohol or too little...
We've all been there, haven't we? Many times I've picked a fight with the poor, longsuffering husband when he's got back from work and I've been (secretly) 2/3 of a bottle down. I've slammed cupboard doors passive aggressively and considered hurling a wooden spoon across the kitchen as a result of some (imagined) slight. Jeremy, allegedly, called his producer a 'lazy, Irish ****' and punched him in the face - splitting his lip. I never went that far. Apart from anything else, my husband isn't Irish.
Professor McMurran - a psychologist at Nottingham University - says that alcohol "narrows our focus of attention and gives us tunnel vision....If someone provokes us while we're drunk, we don't take other factors into account, such as the consequences of rising to the bait. This can lead to violent reactions from people who would usually shrug things off." Also, because alcohol lowers inhibitions our warning systems don't go off and "this can put us in dangerous or confrontational situations."
The Prof goes on to say that alcohol affects the way we process information so we are more likely to misinterpret information - to see insults where there are none. That's why so many fights start "because he looked at me the wrong way."
When I was in the high powered job (with the bar in the office), I remember having two large glasses of wine with a colleague at lunch. When I got back to my desk I found an e-mail from a very important, global client asking for a number of changes to the edit of the new TV commercial we'd just shot. I fired off a reply in (drunken) high umbrage, calling him a Neanderthal nincompoop who was obviously unable to appreciate a work of true artistic genius. This e-mail became famous and made me a heroine in the creative department, but it got me fired off the business and could easily have lost me my job.
Funnily enough, since giving up the booze I've not picked one fight. I've been - relatively - Zen. I am a thing of wondrous calm and serenity.
So I look at lovely, raddled, remorseful Jeremy and think: log on to www.mummywasasecretdrinker.blogspot.com Jezza, and we'll give you a big virtual hug and persuade you of the magical restorative powers of hot chocolate.
Love, peace and calm to you all X
Related post: Alcohol Induced Rage Part 2
Monday, 16 March 2015
14 days - Discovering Mindfulness
We got through the weekend, ladies! (are there any blokes reading this? If so, do shout and I'll stop being so sexist). Congratulations to Kags who did her first big night out sober - woo hoo! Love and hugs to Whimsical (great username!) who was out drinking until 3am Sunday morning and felt terrible yesterday. We've all been there, and we're with you.
14 days in, and here's what I've noticed:
Bright eyes and clear, sort of dewy fresh, skin. And I've lost 2 pounds and about an inch off the muffin top. I'm not yet at the 'hot mama, careful as you walk past building sites' stage, but definitely not looking as raddled as I did. Yay!
Cravings not as bad as they were. I've realised that my danger periods are the old 'wine o'clocks' i.e. around 1pm and 6pm. The way I get through these tough times is to indulge myself. I lie down on the sofa with a good magazine or book, or I have a bath with bubbles, candles and some chilled music - just for 30 minutes until the craving passes. And it does.
I'm not as distracted as I was (see previous post - withdrawal symptoms), so I am managing to (more or less) get through my 'to do' list for the day. And - thank goodness - the digestion seems to be back to normal.
But the big change is that I have suddenly discovered the ability to live in the moment. For the first time in as long as I can remember I can do 'mindfulness'. It strikes me that mindfulness is impossible for an alcohol dependant. We are either wishing time away so we can get rid of the hangover, or wishing it away because we're longing for the next drink or - most likely - both simultaneously. The last thing we want to do is linger in the moment. Maybe we're in the moment when we take the first sip of the first glass, but we're very quickly looking forward to pouring the next one.
The other issue with alcohol and mindfulness is that we use our drinking to take the edges off life - to make it all a bit fuzzy. This is the antithesis to mindfulness, which is about noticing everything clearly and sharply - colours, smells, sounds, our own breathing.
Mindfulness has been in the news a lot recently. Wikipedia define it as "the intentional, accepting and non-judgemental focus of one's attention on the emotions, thoughts and sensations occurring in the present moment." (Try doing that drunk). The effects of mindfulness include alleviation of anxiety, depression, stress, handling emotions and treating substance abuse disorders. Hey, what's not to like?
So, Sunday morning I take my youngest (aged 5) for a walk with the dog round the local cemetery (sounds ghoulish, but it's beautiful). Half way round and I realise that I am absolutely in the moment. Not wishing away a hangover, not checking the time constantly to see when I can pour the first glass. I'm seeing all the daffodils appearing around the gravestones, the glorious spring light and the terribly poignant inscriptions on the monuments. The little one and I play 'who can find the most angels' (not celestial ones, sadly - stone ones). She turns to me and asks " How old are you again, Mummy?" "As old as the hills", I reply. She pauses, thinking, then asks "how old are the hills, Mummy?" I laugh till I cry.
Here's my mindfulness quote for the day: "You must live life in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look towards another land; there is no other life but this." Henry David Thoreau.
Best of luck to you all. Stay in touch. X
14 days in, and here's what I've noticed:
Bright eyes and clear, sort of dewy fresh, skin. And I've lost 2 pounds and about an inch off the muffin top. I'm not yet at the 'hot mama, careful as you walk past building sites' stage, but definitely not looking as raddled as I did. Yay!
Cravings not as bad as they were. I've realised that my danger periods are the old 'wine o'clocks' i.e. around 1pm and 6pm. The way I get through these tough times is to indulge myself. I lie down on the sofa with a good magazine or book, or I have a bath with bubbles, candles and some chilled music - just for 30 minutes until the craving passes. And it does.
I'm not as distracted as I was (see previous post - withdrawal symptoms), so I am managing to (more or less) get through my 'to do' list for the day. And - thank goodness - the digestion seems to be back to normal.
But the big change is that I have suddenly discovered the ability to live in the moment. For the first time in as long as I can remember I can do 'mindfulness'. It strikes me that mindfulness is impossible for an alcohol dependant. We are either wishing time away so we can get rid of the hangover, or wishing it away because we're longing for the next drink or - most likely - both simultaneously. The last thing we want to do is linger in the moment. Maybe we're in the moment when we take the first sip of the first glass, but we're very quickly looking forward to pouring the next one.
The other issue with alcohol and mindfulness is that we use our drinking to take the edges off life - to make it all a bit fuzzy. This is the antithesis to mindfulness, which is about noticing everything clearly and sharply - colours, smells, sounds, our own breathing.
Mindfulness has been in the news a lot recently. Wikipedia define it as "the intentional, accepting and non-judgemental focus of one's attention on the emotions, thoughts and sensations occurring in the present moment." (Try doing that drunk). The effects of mindfulness include alleviation of anxiety, depression, stress, handling emotions and treating substance abuse disorders. Hey, what's not to like?
So, Sunday morning I take my youngest (aged 5) for a walk with the dog round the local cemetery (sounds ghoulish, but it's beautiful). Half way round and I realise that I am absolutely in the moment. Not wishing away a hangover, not checking the time constantly to see when I can pour the first glass. I'm seeing all the daffodils appearing around the gravestones, the glorious spring light and the terribly poignant inscriptions on the monuments. The little one and I play 'who can find the most angels' (not celestial ones, sadly - stone ones). She turns to me and asks " How old are you again, Mummy?" "As old as the hills", I reply. She pauses, thinking, then asks "how old are the hills, Mummy?" I laugh till I cry.
Here's my mindfulness quote for the day: "You must live life in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look towards another land; there is no other life but this." Henry David Thoreau.
Best of luck to you all. Stay in touch. X
Sunday, 15 March 2015
Sober Saturdays
I think Saturday is the hardest day of all. I've noticed that my page views drop by 50% from Friday to Saturday. Hopefully that's because we're all busy with family time rather than out getting trollied ;-) I was thinking about Kags last night - one of my readers - and hoping that she got through her first big night out sober. Please let us know, Kags!
I thought I'd compare and contrast my day yesterday with how it would have gone 'in the old days' (i.e. 2 weeks ago) in the company of - approximately - 2 bottles of wine.
Yesterday: Woke up at 6.30 full of beans after 7 hours deep sleep. Went downstairs to drink coffee and write blog, then back to bed for big group hugs as the rest of the family woke up - husband, 3 kids and dog all under duvet (dog pretending not to be there as 'officially' he's banned). Bounced down to kitchen followed by the merry band at about 8.30am to make breakfast.
Drinking days: Would have been awake since about 4am drinking pints of water and stressing about anything and everything. By about 7am would drop back off to sleep. At around 7.30am when kids and dog start piling in would hide head under pillow and hope that it all went away. Would give up eventually (about 8.30am) and get up grumpy and knackered.
Yesterday: Husband and son went off to football club. My eldest (11) was playing her oboe in a big music competition in the afternoon and hadn't done any practice all week. She played her competition piece and it was pretty awful. I quickly realised that she was nervous about the afternoon, told her that it didn't matter at all, it was only practice for playing in public and, if she really didn't want to do it, we could pull out. She thought about it for a bit and then said that she really didn't want to let her teacher down. She played the piece a few more times and it was sounding way better. We then decided we should have a break, put Spotify on loud in the kitchen and danced.
Drinking days: Eldest would have played her competition piece badly. I would have yelled at her for not having practiced all week, and told her that she was letting her teacher down. She would have stomped upstairs to her room and refused to play any more. The bad atmosphere would have prevailed until it was time to leave for the competition.
Yesterday: We had a jolly family lunch. I drank water. Husband had a beer (I've become obsessed by watching what he's drinking!). Eldest and I hopped into car in a good mood and headed off.
Drinking days: I would have been having an endless internal monologue about whether/how much to drink at lunch time. I would persuade myself that I absolutely had to have a glass of wine to 'take the edge off' the competition nerves. Having had one I'd want another. I'd try to work out how much I could drink and still be under driving limit. I'd consider sending husband to competition. Daughter would complain vociferously on basis that her father is tone deaf (true). Another argument would take place. I'd decide that two glasses was bound to be under limit. We'd leave with me grumpy because I hadn't drunk enough, and guilty because I'd drunk too much. Daughter would still be cross with me for yelling at her over lack of practice, plus worried that - due to her big sulk - she hadn't done any practice at all!
Yesterday: Daughter played beautifully and came out with top prize for under 12s - medal and a cup. We were both totally gobsmacked. As I was sober I was sufficiently socially aware to spot the rictus grins of the assembled tiger mums and realise that we had to scarper quick before we were lynched. We got to the car and whooped all the way home.
Drinking days: I would have hated arriving at competition as I'd have to 'air kiss/hug' all the Mums I knew while trying not to breathe alcohol on them. Daughter would have done fine, but not won anything due to lack of practice, and we would have left grateful to have got it all over and done with, vowing not to go again the next year.
Yesterday: Got home and celebrated with a cup of tea (actually felt v cross at not being able to crack open champagne, but craving only lasted ten minutes and I got through it!), managed not to post unbearably smug photo of daughter holding cup on Facebook. We all went out to local bistro for steak frites. I drank water. Husband drank 2 glasses red wine, one glass sauternes (see, I'm doing it again!). Watched 2 episodes of new box set on sofa without falling asleep, then slept like a log for 7 hours.
Please let m know how you got on, and - for all my UK readers - HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
I thought I'd compare and contrast my day yesterday with how it would have gone 'in the old days' (i.e. 2 weeks ago) in the company of - approximately - 2 bottles of wine.
Yesterday: Woke up at 6.30 full of beans after 7 hours deep sleep. Went downstairs to drink coffee and write blog, then back to bed for big group hugs as the rest of the family woke up - husband, 3 kids and dog all under duvet (dog pretending not to be there as 'officially' he's banned). Bounced down to kitchen followed by the merry band at about 8.30am to make breakfast.
Drinking days: Would have been awake since about 4am drinking pints of water and stressing about anything and everything. By about 7am would drop back off to sleep. At around 7.30am when kids and dog start piling in would hide head under pillow and hope that it all went away. Would give up eventually (about 8.30am) and get up grumpy and knackered.
Yesterday: Husband and son went off to football club. My eldest (11) was playing her oboe in a big music competition in the afternoon and hadn't done any practice all week. She played her competition piece and it was pretty awful. I quickly realised that she was nervous about the afternoon, told her that it didn't matter at all, it was only practice for playing in public and, if she really didn't want to do it, we could pull out. She thought about it for a bit and then said that she really didn't want to let her teacher down. She played the piece a few more times and it was sounding way better. We then decided we should have a break, put Spotify on loud in the kitchen and danced.
Drinking days: Eldest would have played her competition piece badly. I would have yelled at her for not having practiced all week, and told her that she was letting her teacher down. She would have stomped upstairs to her room and refused to play any more. The bad atmosphere would have prevailed until it was time to leave for the competition.
Yesterday: We had a jolly family lunch. I drank water. Husband had a beer (I've become obsessed by watching what he's drinking!). Eldest and I hopped into car in a good mood and headed off.
Drinking days: I would have been having an endless internal monologue about whether/how much to drink at lunch time. I would persuade myself that I absolutely had to have a glass of wine to 'take the edge off' the competition nerves. Having had one I'd want another. I'd try to work out how much I could drink and still be under driving limit. I'd consider sending husband to competition. Daughter would complain vociferously on basis that her father is tone deaf (true). Another argument would take place. I'd decide that two glasses was bound to be under limit. We'd leave with me grumpy because I hadn't drunk enough, and guilty because I'd drunk too much. Daughter would still be cross with me for yelling at her over lack of practice, plus worried that - due to her big sulk - she hadn't done any practice at all!
Yesterday: Daughter played beautifully and came out with top prize for under 12s - medal and a cup. We were both totally gobsmacked. As I was sober I was sufficiently socially aware to spot the rictus grins of the assembled tiger mums and realise that we had to scarper quick before we were lynched. We got to the car and whooped all the way home.
Drinking days: I would have hated arriving at competition as I'd have to 'air kiss/hug' all the Mums I knew while trying not to breathe alcohol on them. Daughter would have done fine, but not won anything due to lack of practice, and we would have left grateful to have got it all over and done with, vowing not to go again the next year.
Yesterday: Got home and celebrated with a cup of tea (actually felt v cross at not being able to crack open champagne, but craving only lasted ten minutes and I got through it!), managed not to post unbearably smug photo of daughter holding cup on Facebook. We all went out to local bistro for steak frites. I drank water. Husband drank 2 glasses red wine, one glass sauternes (see, I'm doing it again!). Watched 2 episodes of new box set on sofa without falling asleep, then slept like a log for 7 hours.
Please let m know how you got on, and - for all my UK readers - HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
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