Friendship

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh!" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw.
"I just wanted to be sure of you."
AA. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

When I first quit drinking, one of the things I was most scared of was losing my friends.

(See my post Will I Lose All My Friends? written back on Day 13)

I was aware that, in my overly enthusiastic drinking days, if any of my friends announced they were going sober I'd have been entirely unsympathetic and, most probably, would have distanced myself from them.

Non drinkers, in my book, were rather po-faced, holier than thou and more than a little dull. They didn't walk on the wild side, like me, grabbing life by the short and curlies. They were not part of my tribe.

Also, if I ever spent any time with a non-drinker, a little voice would start to whisper in my ear do you think maybe you're drinking too much? Do you think, perhaps, you should quit drinking? And that was a place I did not want to go.... I'd hastily stick my fingers in my ears and go la-la-la-la-la.

My cancer diagnosis two weeks ago has taught me an awful lot about friendship.

Oddly, when you get really, really bad news there are very few people you want to talk to. And they're often not the ones you'd expect.

I told two of my oldest girlfriends who were there whenever I needed to talk to someone. One of them even spent hours ringing round to find me a top breast consultant when the two I'd been recommended were away on holiday for a week (which is a very long time in cancer land).

The third person I told was a lady I don't know well at all. She's a Mum from the kid's school, and she lives nearby. I've never had a really good heart to heart with her. But when I got the news I just knew she'd be a good person to tell, so I turned up on her doorstep, sobbing.

This lady - H - has been a rock. She came to meet me in the park whenever I escaped from the children for a dog walk and a sob. She bought me a beautiful book to write down all the medical stuff I had to remember, and to pour out my feelings in. She has texted me several times a day, making me laugh and cry. She will be one of my best friends for ever.

It made me realise that for the last decade, at least, I have not been the friend that anyone has turned to first. I used to be - many years ago, but now I hear about close friends' illnesses, divorces, problems with their children, several weeks or months down the line. I am not a first port of call.

You know why? I'm sure it's because, as a drinker, I was a fair weather friend. Fun to have at parties, to share gossip and to have a laugh with, but not a friend in need.

The truth is that drinkers make rubbish friends. We tend not to listen (after a few drinks we get stuck on 'transmit' rather than 'receive'). We're not trustworthy (anybody's secret makes a good anecdote after a glass or two of vino). We're not reliable (I would often forget the crucial details of a friend's confidences, if not the whole conversation!).

Since I quit drinking I've been a much better friend. Instead of doing all my socialising at drinks parties, spending no more than ten minutes with any one friend, having superficial banter, I've spent hours chatting over coffees, dog walks and lunches.

When I am at a party, I don't try to talk to everyone - I have a few really good conversations with people I haven't seen for a long time. I listen. I remember. I'm thoughtful.

Yes, some of my big drinking friends I feel less close to, but I've realised that I was never that close to them anyway - not in the ways that matter.

And the vast majority of my friendships are way more precious and stronger now than they were a year ago. Plus I've picked up some wonderful new friends, who never knew the drunken me.

Friendships, you see, like flowers, have to be nurtured, cared for, watered. Pour sauvignon blanc over them for long enough and you poison them.

The other thing this experience has taught me about friendship is how much I value all of you.

As you know, confessing to a drink problem, or to going sober, is hard in the real world (see my post: Dear Friend), which is why the sobersphere is such a lifeline.

I may never have met you, or know what you look like, but I've bared my very soul to you and you've accepted me, and that is the most powerful form of friendship there is.

Plus, we all share something. Despite our very many differences we are all very alike.

Here's a wonderful quote from C.S.Lewis:

Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no-one but myself...."

And that is what bought us all here.

Thank you, dear friends.

SM x

P.S. I am back from hospital. Sore and tired, but happy.

Farewell, Faithful Friend

I'm feeling a little tearful tonight as I say farewell to a fair old chunk of my left boob.

The boobs have stuck by me, through thick and thin. They started life all perky and upbeat. The life and soul of the party, and massive attention seekers - rather like me.

Then they got a bit battered by life, and by looking after three children. A little older and droopier, but still able to have a good old flirt when helped by a hefty bit of under-wiring.

After tomorrow, they'll never look the same. Lefty will always be a vivid reminder of a battle fought and - I hope - won.

Thanks to knocking the vino on the head (nearly) eight months ago, I'm going into the operation fighting fit. My BMI is bang smack in the middle of the 'normal' range, and I can happily tick 'non smoker' and 'non drinker' on the pre-assessment forms.

But here's my guilty secret:

I'm really looking forward to the morphine.

A legitimate mind altering substance. Now that's got to be a bonus.

Love SM x

Visualisation

I'm a huge believer in the power of visualisation, and it can be a fabulous tool to help you get sober.

If you're in the early days of quitting, you'll find that instead of the voice in your head (the one that keeps persuading you to drink, even when you really, really don't want to) getting quieter, it gets louder and louder.

I find it really helps to visualise the voice. It's important to remember that it's not part of you. It's a separate thing that can be beaten and banished, leaving you free.

I call the voice the Wine Witch.

Imagine that there is a witch curled around your back, her arms around your throat, her talons clutching your collar bone.

She's really heavy, dragging you down and making you exhausted. And she's constantly whispering in your ear, causing you to behave in ways you don't like, making you hate yourself.

(Heroin addicts know this feeling too - it's why they talk about 'the monkey on their back').

Now, here's the truth: the only thing keeping the witch alive is alcohol.

Every day you refuse to give her what she wants, she gets weaker.

BUT BEWARE! The weaker she gets, the more cunning she gets about trying to get her fix.

DO NOT GIVE IN! Feeding the witch will keep her happy for a short while - she'll shut up, seem lighter and less intrusive. But you'll make her stronger, and she'll only come back with a vengeance the minute you start depriving her again.

Slowly, slowly, without alcohol, the witch gets weaker, quieter and lighter. Then one day you turn around and realise that she's no longer there! You are free, light and unburdened. There's no-one dripping poison in your ear. It's just you, as you're meant to be, as you used to be.

Another way visualisation can help is when you need some extra strength. The clock strikes wine o'clock, and you're literally grinding your teeth and sitting on your hands.

I'm a huge Game of Thrones fan, so at this point I would imagine I was Kalheesi, and would unleash my dragons and army of the unsullied at the Wine Witch, which would usually do the trick (see I am Kalheesi).

The third way to use visualisation is to picture yourself where you want to be.

Many people (including the fabulous Wayne Dyer - see my post Change the Way You Look at Things) believe in the Power of Attraction: that if you can really see the result you want, you can make it happen. This is also the essence of the global bestseller The Secret.

So, picture yourself sober, happy, healthy, free. If you can see it, you can be it.

I'm using visualisation right now. I'm imaging that all the toxins and the bad stuff that I've done in my life has been concentrated in the little malignant lump in my left boob, which after my operation tomorrow will be all gone.

So it's like a brand new start, all clean and cancer free. A new chapter in the novel of my life.

And, just in case it gets a bit rocky for a while, I have some great guys on standby to help me through. I'm imagining them facing off any stray cancer cells, and I'm offering them to you, too, to help you whenever you need them.

CLICK HERE!

Love to you all!

SM x

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