Your Sober Till when!!!! HAHAHA

Well it has been an eventful 6 weeks. Not one drop of alcohol has passed my lips and I have another 6 1/2 weeks to go until I can revise that statement.
My extensive abstinence has come about due to a hung-over promise to myself, you know the usual, "I am never going to drink again for as long as I live." Once the pain of that particular hangover had begun to subside (nearly 3 days later) I thought to myself maybe I had been a bit harsh on myself with such a hefty lifetime sentence so I reviewed the situation and made my revisions. I decided a few months should be sufficient enough to cleanse my system and prove to my self that alcohol was still a controlled indulgence of mine and not a necessity. The very fact that when I announced my ‘3 month of abstinence’ to my so called friends it was greeted with laughter and great merriment and comments like, "Yeah right." or "I'll take that bet." or "Whatever, sit down and have a beer." This made me take a closer look at my lifestyle or more specifically it made me acknowledge the copious amounts of alcohol I had become accustomed to guzzling without batting an eyelid, or blurring an eye.

I figured the amount I drank was totally acceptable as long as I wasn't drinking at home alone, going drinking with strangers, or getting myself into any really dangerous situations. A couple of whacks to the head from falling in my front door or out of a taxi didn’t count. The fact I rationalized to myself that I only drunk socially did not enter into the equation as I seemed to be in a permanent socializing mode; a dinner party here, a concert there, a drink after work with my colleagues, a special coffee with breakfast, some champagne with brunch, wine with dinner, after dinner cocktails, or a night cap; all socially acceptable times to drink.

Growing up in Scotland was a good training ground giving me the accolade of being able to 'handling my drink' well. I used to glow with pride every time I heard someone hail my aptitude and staying power at any party scene. “That girl can drink some.” Woohoo, I saw this as a status to be envied. Before I knew it I was caught up in my own reputation. Sure I would come out for a drink. Sure I would go to another bar for another drink. Sure I would go to a party after last call. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t suffering, well apart from the occasional brutal morning after the night before hangover. It was incredible fun and I loved being the one that friends could always count on to come out and party. And I don’t regret a single drop.

But I began to weary of the wasted days spent recuperating. It got to the point that if I had a big social event coming up, I would keep the next day free just in case I was a bit on the rough side, which this summer was happening more and more often. People told me it was because I was getting older. “You’re in your 40’s now so you ‘should’ know ‘middle aged’ people don’t handle their booze as well”. Oops, sorry I must have missed that lesson at the last AA meeting, you know the class that told us about “getting older and what to expect from overindulgence”. Well my mother is 75 and can still give me a run for my money and always has done, as do a number of older people I know. I have also been humbled by a good many pensioners in my time. I knew age wasn’t the problem. I had simply begun to find other experiences more enjoyable than going out on the piss. Who would have thought?

In truth, I was bored spending all my hard earned cash on alcohol. I was bored having vague and often blurred memories of nights out with my pals. I was bored lying in bed for the better part of a weekend waiting for Friday nights hangover to go away; the hangover that no longer came in the shape of a balaclava headache, eyeball popping, chest heaving, toilet hugging experience. This was worse. Yes, there is worse! These hangovers now came in the form of anxiety attacks. It took me a while to identify the connection and once I recognized the pattern then I learned how to cope with these terrors. And the terrors weren’t about what I had done the night before. That’s the spiral of shame, which later always transcend into a great piss up story. These terrors were not about any hardships I was dealing with in my life being magnified by alcohol. Or any stress I might be suffering at work. Or even any worries I had about the health and wellbeing of my family and friends. These terrors were over the mere fact I was almost out of toothpaste, or I had left a plate in the sink over night, or I hadn’t watered a particular plant all week.

The very fact I was freaking out over such meaningless things made me stop and look around. Something was wrong. The one common denominator was the booze fests. Now I’m not talking about a couple of beers. That’s okay. It’s when the little greedy monster inside comes out to play. It screams ‘Party’ or ‘Jaeger bombs’. Full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes. It didn’t matter that I’d have something important the next day. Or I was trying to save some cash to buy or do something special. When I got in that mode it was all about, ‘you only live once and this is living.’ I associated having a good time with lots and lots of alcohol, as do many of my friends. I have learned over the last year that when I look back I’ve had most of my best moments in life sober.

Last week between Monday and Friday I was out for drinks with my boss (non-alcoholic beer), a book reading by Ian Rankin, a dinner party with a bunch of close friend’s, and an acoustic concert by Fran Healy from Travis. The booze was flowing the whole week and you know what, I didn’t miss the demon drink one bit. I got a buzz from the events that I was taking part in. If anything, I have found my non-drinking is more frustrating for my friends than it is for me.

So am I a tea-totaller now? Hell no. I enjoy drinking too much. But now when I go back to participating in my alcohol driven society it will be because I do enjoy the relaxation a fine glass of wine brings after a hard days work, or at a dinner party with friends. And I’ll know when I am sipping on my Corona on a sunny patio that I am enjoying it because I have chosen to have a beer and not because I need a beer. Like everything in life it should be experienced in moderation including moderation itself.