Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Day 84. Really want wine.

Up until yesterday I have been pootling along nicely. The weekends come and go and I rarely think about wine (well, I mean properly think about it, in a longing way). 

Yesterday was Saturday and all day I couldnt shake the urge to get some wine. My brain is telling me "you've made your point, you're clearly not addicted to booze, just go and get some" and "who cares, this is a self imposed ban, no one said you cant have any stop being a drama queen". 

I drove past my local garage earlier and the urge to pull off and grab a bottle of red was frighteningly vivid. I didn't obviously. Because I know I do not want to drink. 

I let myself think about it, about what it would feel like to get that bottle of red home. And I had a vivid thought of getting one of my lovely big dome glasses out (the sort that handles half a bottle easy) and this is the crux...........of gulping it. So its not the pleasant treat feeling. I want to gulp a bottle of red = I want to get buzzed. So I am not fixed. So I hit the thought away with disgust. 

I think I know where it came from. I have been so busy with work. I mean, I have 2 kids and I travel with work so I am always busy. But this week I was especially challenged with new work, with a crushing deadline, and I nailed it. I wanted a treat. I had loads of energy come saturday,. So here I am still feeling like I want to smash down those positive feelings with wine. Fucking hell, I don't think about drinking when something goes wrong?!! Its always a celebration. A treat. 

Obviously I didn't drink and made a nice dinner instead. I was up early for a run today ( Sunday) and ran non stop for a distance I was thrilled with. So as usual the benefits of sobriety are pretty immediate. Well, the next morning. I am proud of it, but concerned.............Up until now the thought of wine has made my stomoch turn. Whatever it is I have made my brain do has been effective. I do not physically want a glass of wine. And then saturday happened. Gutted. 

Thursday, 2 March 2017

Wine. Red. Right here. Urgh.

I'm not really counting days but I know I am heading into my third month of no booze. 3 months!?? A whole quarter of a year!!! (Ok, ok approx 70 days)

I recognise I have been fortunate enough to not to have any real physical cravings (I don't think). Also, the timing of my choice to quit, means I started over the darkest, Wintery UK months. You know the time of year, where nothing really happens, everyone is on a diet, so I haven't felt I have had to turn down any special occasions to protect my sober plans. 

I have definitely taken myself out of harms way a few times, I've turned down a few social occasions but nothing that would draw attention. Last week, I went to dinner in a swanky restaurant with 2 heavy drinking mates (and broke the news to them - went down great!) and ordered a lovely mocktail. They churned their way through red wine and cocktails (my two fav poisons) but I was ok. I did find myself glancing at trays of drinks going past the table, sneaking a peak at peoples glasses and wondering how much they were drinking, and what they were drinking, but honestly these thoughts really were no more than fleeting. The company was great and as I drove home I was really proud of myself of jumping the first big social hurdle and convinced myself that being around alcohol is no biggie. 

My husband has a few beers in the fridge. I notice them when I reach for the milk, But no biggie. 

I have walked the wine isle in the supermarket for a present and to collect some asian lager for my hubby so he can have it with his curry - no biggie. 

Look at me!!?? It's like alcohol never even existed!!? How awesome and strong minded am I? I may start doing talks or something................

........last night. After being away from home for 3 nights with work. I was so pleased to be home, I hugged the kids, excitedly told hubby about how work is going, we talked about dinner plans after kids went down, I walk in the kitchen AND THERE IS A FUCKING BOTTLE OF RED FUCKING WINE ON THE BASTARD COUNTER. 

Why? The only person who drinks that is me? My old friend that caused all this trouble. Why is it there? In my space?  Like a stark island. Like a twatting illuminated picture in a dark museum. I snapped at hubby and demanded an explanation. He said he was given it by a colleague and just popped it on the counter and didnt give it another thought. I asked him to get rid of it and he put it in the cupboard. Still visable. Still there. So I moved it into the garage the next day. 

I didnt want to tell the poor bloke off, as I have probably given the easy breasy vibe that being around alcohol is no biggie (see above examples of my coolness).  But I felt I had to bring it up today, to explain in no uncertain terms that I would have expected him to be more considerate. I know this will never happen again as he is a kind man who listens to his wife BUT I could tell he was thinking I was making a mountain out of a molehill. He even said "I dont care if you pour it down the sink" which is sort of missing the point. 

I'm sure my reaction to it's presence is a reflection of my previous drinking rules. I always had control in public, at parties, at dinner, its at home where I really let rip with the red winage. I recognise that my "its no biggie" is a tad fraudulent. 

Was I over reacting yelling at him indoors? Am I giving mixed messages? Have you done the same? 

Are you ok to be around booze at your stage? 

I would love to have your opinion.