False Memory

Memory is a funny thing. It plays tricks on us.

Sometimes this is for a good reason. For example, I realised recently that I have little memory of whole chunks of time last October/November.

I think I have mild post traumatic stress from the whole cancer thing, and my mind has just blanked it all out.

This became apparent because of #1's teeth.

Last October half term, I'd booked her in to see an orthodontist. It so happened that the appointment fell right in the middle of all my scans and biopsies.

We went along and discussed her teeth at some length (and cost). I was given detailed instructions on next steps, including going somewhere to get some crucial x-rays done.

But I can't remember any of it. #1 says I wrote it all down, but God knows where.

I'm too embarrassed to go back and do the same appointment all over again, plus it'll just bring back all those bad memories that my brain has obviously decided to delete for good reason, so we're going to another orthodontist next week.

Last night I was watching Peter Pan with the children, and I had this vague memory of writing something about him. Sure enough, I found this (rather good) post from November about growing up (click here) which I had no memory of writing.

I re-read all my posts from that period, and a whole bunch of them might just of well have been written by someone else.

The reason this is relevant is that false memory can completely scupper the newly sober person.

The problem with not hitting a 'rock bottom' (which no-one wants to get to, obvs) is that once you've been sober for a good long stretch, it's really easy to forget how bad it was.

This caused me some problems last week.

A friend of mine was talking about my not drinking, which she feels (as do most of my friends) is a bit extreme. She said "it's not as if you were an alcoholic. I mean, we all drink too much, but we don't need to give up altogether."

You know what happens next, don't you? Here's how I start thinking:

She's right! I'm NOT an alcoholic. EVERYONE drinks too much. Yes, it all got a bit out of control, drinking most of a bottle most nights of the week, but it's not as if my family suffered. No one ASKED me to quit. I never blacked out/fell over/threw up. I could have a drink or two once in a while....

Luckily, I decided to go back and read 'Secret Drinker Hits the High Bottom,' just to remind myself how 'moderate' my drinking really was (click here).

And there was this terrible lush confessing to drinking one and a half bottles of wine a day. And to fibbing. And to (once) drinking in the morning.

I was horrified. Was that really me?

So, listen up, because this is really important.

Write it down. All of it. Now. Before you forget.

Because one day you'll convince yourself that you weren't that bad really. And you're going to need that piece of paper, or that blog post, to remind yourself that you really were. You really, really were.

Never forget.

Love SM x

Dealing With 'Forever'

One of the things everyone struggles with when they quit drinking is the idea of forever.

Forever - to quote Prince - is a very long time. (Or at least we hope so).

That's why we all learn, at least initially, to only deal with one day at a time.

Well, next time you accidentally think about forever, and start freaking out, then try my new trick...

It's inspired by a comedy sketch I heard on the radio. Two ladies were having a few drinks in a wine bar, and one says to the other "OMG, just look at those two dreadful old lushes sitting over there!" The other replies, "It's a mirror."

It struck me that when we think about drinking being all glamorous and hedonistic, we're thinking about young people. Beautiful, skinny people, dancing and going wild.

When we think about ourselves drinking, we think of our 'best looking' selves, all dressed up and gorgeous, casually sipping on a glass of champagne.

Well, instead of imagining that scene, and going all teary eyed, mournful and nostalgic, picture this:

A lady around the age of sixty five (or older, depending on where you are now!), huge wine belly and puffy, red face, at a smart drinks party. She's talking too loudly, slurring and is slightly unsteady. When the music starts she does some really embarrassing dance moves and starts singing, out of tune.

Now, next time you start worrying about forever, think about the alternative. Because that's the alternative. It's not rebellious and wild - it's just a bit....sad and embarrassing.

And that's not the old age I want to imagine. I like to see myself more as a Mary Berry oldie. All chic, composed and dignified. A wise, kind and respected matriarch.

I bet Mary doesn't down a bottle of wine of an evening. She's more of the 'one glass of champagne on special occasions' type. I can't imagine her ever being drunk, or out of control.

Or Helen Mirren. Interestingly Helen says her motto is 'do everything. But not too much of anything.' Sadly it's a bit too late for that advice.

And don't worry. The fear of forever does fade. Eventually, ironically, it's replaced by the fear of going back to drinking again!

But, until then, just take it day by day. Baby steps. And think of Mary.

Love SM x

Moderators vs Abstainers

I've had many vices, but - luckily - sugar is not one of them.

(Crisps are a different matter. That's chips for my American friends. I can hover up a party bowl of crisps faster than the latest Dyson during a power surge.)

However I have always had a major penchant for Rowntree's Fruit Gums. The ones shaped like tiny little fruits. As a child, I'd save up my pocket money for weeks to buy a box. I was distraught when they discontinued the raspberry ones in the nineties. I even wrote to complain.

I haven't had a fruit gum frenzy for a long time. Apart from anything else, refined sugar is in the AVOID section of the how-not-to-get-breast-cancer-(again) diet sheet. Along with alcohol, obvs.

But today we were doing the drive back to the big smoke from the depths of Cornwall, and everyone knows that whatever you eat on a road trip does not count. (Same is true for anything off a child's plate).

So, I bought a family sized pack of Rowntree's Fruit Gums. After all, we are a family of five.

(I conveniently ignored the fact that I am the only one in the family who actually likes fruit gums).

I resolved to eat just a few. Spread out through the journey. I'd then put the rest away until the next road trip.

But once I started, I just couldn't stop. My hand just kept moving from the pack to my mouth as if it had a life of its own.

By the time we'd reached Yeovil, there were hardly any left.

I decided they'd all have to go, otherwise they'd just be sitting there as a reminder of my terrible gluttony, constantly calling to me.

So, just two hours into the journey and I was on a major sugar high, jaw aching, a raging post sugar thirst, and feeling rather disgusted with myself.

I was reminded of sw6mum's comment about the book The Happiness Project (which I must read), and how it categorises people into two personality types: moderators (people who are happy cutting down), and abstainers (people who are happier cutting out).

No prizes for guessing which one is me....

Happy Friday to you all.

Love SM x