I'm not sure I'll be able to write clearly about it, but I wanted to describe why I decided to try drinking again after being sober for 16 months. (As I mentioned last post if you're reading sober blogs mainly to read like-minded people and you're going to feel uncomfortable reading about trying drinking after being sober, you should probably not read on. I understand. I wish you well.)
But for those who are still here: A few weeks ago, when my partner was recovering nicely from his accident and I had a little time to spare before school got super busy again, I took a few days off and lay around reading mysteries. It's something I do from time to time when I'm exhausted and I really want to relax. I had come across a new mystery writer (for me), Susan Hill, and I was gobbling up her Simon Serrailler mystery series. Hill is a great writer. Her mysteries deal with interesting social issues--hospice, end of life care--and the characters are well drawn and engaging. She's not a cozy writer--it's not all cats and recipes--but her mysteries are set in an English cathedral town, and they aren't drenched in gore in the way that many new mysteries are, so they are a good balance for me.
Now, just before that I had read "The Girl on the Train," and I guess I disliked it about as much as it seems people are liking it. I found the character's drinking was somehow too pat, too easily explained by the story, and her blackouts and embarrassing episodes were convenient for the story but alienating for me as a reader. I thought the writer wasn't quite striking the right notes, somehow. When I sold my copy, I was relieved to talk to a bookseller who had also disliked it, as it's always strange to genuinely dislike a book that everyone is raving about.
So that might have set me up somehow for the Susan Hill books. Because something I noticed as I read them, besides all the great writing and characters and so on that I just mentioned, was this: I liked how the characters drank. They sometimes had wine with family meals, or a drink with friends. And they sometimes looked forward to that. But they also often said no, because of having to work the next day, or because they were taking days off between having wine, or because they were driving, or because they just wanted water. In conversations in the books in which drinking came up, there was always due consideration given to whether the character would drink, and what else was going on.
I was surprised to find myself drawn into that way of thinking. Not in the way one can be drawn on when the drink is falsely romanticized--it wasn't about candlelit dinners or picnics on beaches or picturesque nightcaps. Instead, drinking seemed like a normal, pleasant thing that people did sometimes, the way they sometimes heated up leftovers for supper or made a salad or ate some rhubarb crisp or stopped at a cafe and had a coffee or a bite to eat. No one seemed fixated on having a drink, or on not having one. And other than a few characters in one book who were on wacky new age healing diets (because new age healers featured in the plot of one book), no one obsessed about food, or sugar, or caffeine.
Reading the books, I kept noticing this. And then I thought, I wish I could do that. I want to have pasta with wine, and dessert and a coffee, and not worry so bloody much about it all. And then, a while later, I thought, you know, I think I could do that. In the same way that the sober blogs spoke to me a couple of years ago, showing an alternate vision of how to get through without drinking too much, these books seemed to show a way of life that included alcohol as a part of life, neither the central problem nor the central pleasure in that life. Cake wasn't central, either. People were portrayed as finding their way through the problems and joys of ordinary life. It might be the best modelling of what gets called "moderation in all things" that I've seen. And it looked appealing to me.
I know there's more to it than that, but I think those books were my wee turning point. Obviously this is something I have thought about from time to time. When I quit drinking, I wanted to stop drinking too much, and not drinking at all was the only way I could see my way clear to that. The first time I tried drinking again, it may have been too soon (after almost four months without). At that time, I know I felt pretty alienated by the self-improvement focus that can creep into the sober blogs, and I wanted to get away from the therapeutic worldview altogether. But I was also a little bitter about some of the sober "support" that ended up ringing a bit shallow to me, and I turned back to my regular life, without being able to take in what I'd learned by not drinking.
This time around, I had stopped for just over sixteen months. I could accept that maybe I could never drink again. And somehow, that meant I could accept that if I were to drink, I would have to do it very differently. Also, I think I have learned a lot by not drinking for so long. I like keeping a clear head, sleeping well, remembering my evenings, and lots of those things that I lost when I drank too much. And I'm not bitter about anyone or anything. Plenty of things aren't for me, but we are all gloriously different, and that's just grand!
So far, it's been an enjoyable experiment. I've had wine with dinner a few times, with food, and in company. I've enjoyed it. I've been looking to see whether I would get that old familiar "wanting more" feeling, but so far I have not. I've liked the taste of the wine, and the experience of drinking wine with my meal, something I really did enjoy for years. One thing that's hard to describe is a feeling of having come home to myself in a strange way. For the most part, after I stopped drinking I didn't experience abstinence as a great restriction. I enjoyed doing other things, drinking other drinks. After the initial struggles, the obsession with drinking waned, and that was an enormous relief. Drinking again is a different kind of relief. I feel like I'm not keeping a part of the world at bay, and I'm not paying now for not having learned to drink properly as a younger person.
Over the past couple of years, I started to notice that when I am drinking a really great coffee in the morning, I have often thought, "I'll have another one when this is gone." Same with eating a cookie or having a sweet treat. It's bizarre to me, and it's the exact same feeling I used to get with wine. (Though I only noticed it when I stopped drinking and started to pay attention to a lot of things. I hate buzzwords, but "paying attention" or "mindfulness" has been a great help to me.) I think I was somehow keeping myself on a set of restrictions and doling out pleasures to myself, something I likely learned from years of restrictive eating. When those thoughts crop up, I have been acknowledging them, not yelling at myself or chastising myself for them, but also not having that second coffee (makes me jittery) or the second sweet (makes me sick). Recently, it seems I have found a way to be less restrictive, to want what's good for me in reasonable amounts, and not to sing for more like a deprived child when I have some nice thing. What I'm hoping is that I can do the same thing if I do sometimes get that "moreish" feeling with wine. If it works, and I think it will or I wouldn't be trying this, then it seems like a nice way for me to live. If it doesn't, I'll figure out a different way. And as I probably said before, I already know I can enjoy life without drinking, so if drinking doesn't work, that's always an option.
So that's what I've been up to, and how it's going. As I said before, I get it if you think I'm wrong, or this is too dangerous for you to read. I won't hold that against anyone who does stop. (You don't all have to so kindly chime in again to tell me you're still here now, though that really was super sweet after my last post!) I'm not especially interested in anyone's scare tactics or advice about alcohol always being the road to hell and doom, either. I mean, we all know alcohol can become a problem, so you'd have to think I was some kind of moron if you thought I needed a reminder of that, and if you think I'm a moron, I'm guessing you're not still reading my blog. That crankiness aside, if you're still here, thanks for reading. I probably won't post all that often, but in the interest of painting a picture of how trying drinking looks for me after 16 months sober, I'll keep the blog posted. Holding to the wider use of the word sober, as in "not drunk," I'll still think of this as being sober, though I know that's a minority view here!
Happy sunny weekend to you all.
Showing posts with label pay attention. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pay attention. Show all posts
Saturday, 30 May 2015
Saturday, 7 February 2015
Listening to others, listening to myself
I went to another meeting. Once again, nothing terrifying happened. I think I was right that putting myself face to face (or rather side by side) with other people is something I need to do. I didn't actually talk to anyone or anything as bold as that. There's no hurry. What I did do is listen to the people who spoke, and watch the people in the room, and notice my reactions. And that was illuminating.
Here's what I noticed: my reactions to being there swung wildly back and forth between thinking it was a good idea to vowing I could never come back. And that was just in the five minutes or so before the meeting started, when I was just sitting in a chair, waiting. Also, I was watching people get settled, deciding who I thought was interesting and who wasn't. How hilarious is that? Apparently I know this sort of thing about people on first glance. I didn't know I did that! I caught myself thinking all this, and realized I was reacting to everyone else because I was nervous, and it's way easier to decide who's great and who isn't based on appearances than it is to just feel nervous, isn't it? So for a couple of minutes, I was just uncomfortably nervous. And I survived.
The meeting started when someone read a text, and I once again reacted strongly to the words. Oh, I could argue with that text! But I looked around, and I could see that lots of people seemed to be sitting politely but not getting all caught up in the words, so I thought maybe I could do that, too. I just ignored it, thinking maybe that's not for me right now. No argument required.
Then some guy talked. I managed to stop myself see-sawing between thinking "I belong here" and "I am never coming back" and actually listen. And he said some things that really helped me. Yesterday, Primrose wrote what I thought was a great post about being willing to change, and how that seems to have to include getting connected to other people. I loved what she had to say there. The speaker talked about such similar stuff, so it really resonated with me. Then a few other people spoke, and at different points, everyone said something that struck me deeply. One woman talked about Carl Jung as having said (quoting roughly), 'If you find spirituality in the second half of your life, the first half was worth it.' At that, both me and the young woman next to me teared up and caught each other's eyes for a moment, and smiled. Hard to say why that was so powerful, because the words don't cover it. Words matter, but this is about way more than the words. The experience of sitting listening with people is where the power comes from. I'm not much given to certainty, but I feel sure of this.
A number of years ago, I used to do some serious Zen meditation, but I decided sitting meditation wasn't for me. I spend enough time alone in my own mind, so silently observing my thoughts any more than I do can send me into a spiral that isn't so great for me. More recently, I have tried to listen to the various meditation gurus that get talked about on sober blogs, but they just make me angry. And yes, I know that anger is all about me, not them, but that doesn't stop it from happening. But I try to use the zen training in my own way. For me, it's better to watch my thoughts while I'm out walking or biking, or when I'm sitting in a classroom. It's a kind of meditation in action, and it suits me better. Seeing how I react in real time, that's what I've been trying to do.
And on that score, I think the meeting was good. Because just listening and paying close attention to my own reactions showed me how wildly I do react to what people say, or just the way they look, how quickly I jump on some opinion in my mind, even while I seem calm and balanced. And I could see that when I get uncomfortable, I am very, very quick to interpret my discomfort as disliking someone or something. It's easier, right? If some person or event is annoying and that's why I'm annoyed then I have a kind of equilibrium. It's false, though. And when I caught myself getting annoyed--as I did about a hundred times in the hour--instead of falling into believing that the person talking was at fault, I was able to notice my reaction, and accept that I was feeling uncomfortable, and then try to open my heart to my own discomfort and to the person speaking. And in that openness, sometimes I felt connected. The speakers were uncomfortable sometimes, too. And sometimes they were funny, and everybody laughed. More than once most people were in tears, as was I. Whatever was happening, we all seemed to sit in it together, sharing a little bit of human connection on a rainy Saturday morning.
While I was there, I realized that today I am 13 months sober. It was nice to quietly share that in person with people who would get it. And I did feel like I was sharing it, even though I didn't talk to anyone. So that's my second meeting. I still don't know my way about in all this, but I think I'm OK with that. I'm paying attention, anyway, and sitting with other people. And maybe that's enough.
Thanks for reading. Peace and joy to you. And love.
Here's what I noticed: my reactions to being there swung wildly back and forth between thinking it was a good idea to vowing I could never come back. And that was just in the five minutes or so before the meeting started, when I was just sitting in a chair, waiting. Also, I was watching people get settled, deciding who I thought was interesting and who wasn't. How hilarious is that? Apparently I know this sort of thing about people on first glance. I didn't know I did that! I caught myself thinking all this, and realized I was reacting to everyone else because I was nervous, and it's way easier to decide who's great and who isn't based on appearances than it is to just feel nervous, isn't it? So for a couple of minutes, I was just uncomfortably nervous. And I survived.
The meeting started when someone read a text, and I once again reacted strongly to the words. Oh, I could argue with that text! But I looked around, and I could see that lots of people seemed to be sitting politely but not getting all caught up in the words, so I thought maybe I could do that, too. I just ignored it, thinking maybe that's not for me right now. No argument required.
Then some guy talked. I managed to stop myself see-sawing between thinking "I belong here" and "I am never coming back" and actually listen. And he said some things that really helped me. Yesterday, Primrose wrote what I thought was a great post about being willing to change, and how that seems to have to include getting connected to other people. I loved what she had to say there. The speaker talked about such similar stuff, so it really resonated with me. Then a few other people spoke, and at different points, everyone said something that struck me deeply. One woman talked about Carl Jung as having said (quoting roughly), 'If you find spirituality in the second half of your life, the first half was worth it.' At that, both me and the young woman next to me teared up and caught each other's eyes for a moment, and smiled. Hard to say why that was so powerful, because the words don't cover it. Words matter, but this is about way more than the words. The experience of sitting listening with people is where the power comes from. I'm not much given to certainty, but I feel sure of this.
A number of years ago, I used to do some serious Zen meditation, but I decided sitting meditation wasn't for me. I spend enough time alone in my own mind, so silently observing my thoughts any more than I do can send me into a spiral that isn't so great for me. More recently, I have tried to listen to the various meditation gurus that get talked about on sober blogs, but they just make me angry. And yes, I know that anger is all about me, not them, but that doesn't stop it from happening. But I try to use the zen training in my own way. For me, it's better to watch my thoughts while I'm out walking or biking, or when I'm sitting in a classroom. It's a kind of meditation in action, and it suits me better. Seeing how I react in real time, that's what I've been trying to do.
And on that score, I think the meeting was good. Because just listening and paying close attention to my own reactions showed me how wildly I do react to what people say, or just the way they look, how quickly I jump on some opinion in my mind, even while I seem calm and balanced. And I could see that when I get uncomfortable, I am very, very quick to interpret my discomfort as disliking someone or something. It's easier, right? If some person or event is annoying and that's why I'm annoyed then I have a kind of equilibrium. It's false, though. And when I caught myself getting annoyed--as I did about a hundred times in the hour--instead of falling into believing that the person talking was at fault, I was able to notice my reaction, and accept that I was feeling uncomfortable, and then try to open my heart to my own discomfort and to the person speaking. And in that openness, sometimes I felt connected. The speakers were uncomfortable sometimes, too. And sometimes they were funny, and everybody laughed. More than once most people were in tears, as was I. Whatever was happening, we all seemed to sit in it together, sharing a little bit of human connection on a rainy Saturday morning.
While I was there, I realized that today I am 13 months sober. It was nice to quietly share that in person with people who would get it. And I did feel like I was sharing it, even though I didn't talk to anyone. So that's my second meeting. I still don't know my way about in all this, but I think I'm OK with that. I'm paying attention, anyway, and sitting with other people. And maybe that's enough.
Thanks for reading. Peace and joy to you. And love.
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Celebration without booze one day, "High on life" the next!
Thursday I had a long, busy day at school--a seminar class and two discussion meetings with professors--so I had to be on all day, able to talk about some complex ideas, and report in on where I am with my big project. But the day was marvellous. I had already admitted to both my professors that I was struggling with some heavy depression. And, in much the same way that admitting to myself that I really do have an addiction to alcohol was actually a huge relief, telling my professors about the struggle was an enormous weight off. So we had good discussions about the work I have to do and, maybe because I didn't feel I had to fake being OK, I was OK. For a while, I had felt like the me who went to school was a hollow, polished version of me. At times like this, I worry I become two people: one who gets through life and looks like she has it together, and one who walks in the park weeping, not sure how to go on. Admitting what's going on--at least to some degree--allows those two seemingly separate selves to get back together somehow, and I feel human again. I'm not sure I'm saying this in a way that makes sense and doesn't sound too whacked-out crazy. But this splitting into publicly doing well, privately depressed, it's something I've been through before, and I know it's got a big sign above it: "This way lies madness." It's exactly like being the closet addict who seems all good from a distance, and it's just as dangerous. It was good to be more honestly myself, admittedly having trouble with some things but still able to enjoy my studies. So hooray for that!
But feeling better blind-sided me in a way I didn't expect at all. While I was at school, I got advance notice of some good news that isn't yet official, and I was very pleased about it. For the past few days, the worst of the depression has really shifted, and I have been feeling like life is a whole lot of sunshine and blue skies after a long spell of crap weather. So on the way home, I caught myself thinking, "Maybe we can have some wine tonight to celebrate." No no no no no!!! What the hell is that? I've been under a crushing weight of bad feeling for a month or so, and as soon as it starts to lift, I think I'm going to drink again? Oh man! I gave myself a gentle talking-to, a bit of, "Oh love, you know that's not even what you want to do, you're just relieved to be out of the mire, that's all." It was all. But over and over, on the bus ride home, I would drift off from reading, or just stare out the window, and find myself planning to celebrate with some wine. Or maybe champagne. A nice dinner out, with wine of course. Did I mention the wine already? OK, so you get the idea. I was really surprised about how many times on that bus ride home I slipped into that old habit, thinking celebrate=wine. Over and over and over, I fell into that pit and then picked myself out of it. I was late arriving home, and my partner was even later. While I waited, I read blogs for a while, and kept reminding myself why drinking wine was a really bad idea. (REALLY BAD IDEA, repeat as needed.) When my partner arrived, I told him about my good day and good news and about me keeping on planning to drink wine. We decided to go out to our favourite fancy restaurant to celebrate. Not with wine. With dinner and dessert and the lovely walk through the city there and back. And it worked. The evening was lovely--we shared an endive salad and some lamb dish, and duck confit, and creme brule for dessert. I drank sparkling water, not wine. I really knew I didn't want to have wine anyway, I just wanted to have some sort of celebration, and that's what we did.
I think, maybe, instead of fighting down the thoughts, or instead of pretending they weren't there, it was good for me to pay attention to how I felt, how the change to feeling better after a month of feeling crap was another way I could slip into the old bad habit. By paying close attention I could remind myself what I really wanted. But it is amazing to me how strong that old habit-thinking can be. Now I know to look out for it. Happy=wine is a big one for me, and I have to slow down in the moment, feel the happiness, and disconnect it from my longstanding knee jerk reaction to happiness.
OK, that worked out well, but the next day I had another lovely small revelation, showing me how absolutely wrong I had been when, a few months ago, I wrote about alcohol bringing people together to relax. Hooray for me being wrong! Friday I had another school meeting--long discussion of some interesting ideas with students and professors--and afterward, people headed to the pub to continue talking. Back in November, I had written about noticing how, as soon as people planned to go for a drink, they started to relax. The ritual of leaving the school part of the day behind and going to socialize with some drinks is powerful. At the time, I saw this as a sign of how important alcohol is in our lives, and I didn't want to miss out on that. Yesterday I went along to the pub after the meeting, because the conversation was still going on and it was interesting, and I do like the people. I knew I wasn't going to drink. I had practiced quietly ordering a cranberry and soda (best option on a student pub), and when we arrived I discreetly placed my order. When a pitcher of beer was passed around, one young woman still didn't have anything, and a young man passed his beer glass to her and said he would wait for the next pitcher.
Here's where it get's astonishing, at least to me. The young woman threw her had back and laughed--I'm telling you, she really laughed out loud--and as she passed the beer back to the guy, she said, "I don't drink. How long have you known me, and you didn't know I don't drink?" This appeared all light-hearted and breezy for her. I swear she tossed her hair when she said it, like Mrs D talked about in her early blog posts when she imagined her future self just not drinking. It was late afternoon, so the pub was filled with the kind of slanting light that makes everything glow. You know those ads we all have in our minds, the one where everyone is lovely and the light is perfect and people are sitting at the pub, and in our minds that's the (false) image we associate with drinking? Well, it was like that, but instead the ad was remade, and it showed how the glorious moment is made up of the people taking the time to get together, just the sheer pleasure of that. No booze required, thanks anyway! The guy asked if she ever drank and, still smiling, the woman said, "Trust me, you don't want to see me drunk. Anyway, I don't need it." Another laugh. "I'm high on life!"
The subject was dropped. After I picked my jaw up from the table and sipped my soda, I was able to join in the conversation again, but I really was stunned. That's all you have to do? Just smile and be a bit glamorous, laugh even, and say, "Oh no, not for me. I don't drink." I felt like someone had reached into the world and straightened a few bits that had been bent. This was the woman who had convinced people to go to the pub the time I wrote about earlier, who I had been noticing closely when I talked about how planning to drink was, in itself, relaxing. And she doesn't even drink. What a delight this was for me, to be so beautifully wrong! I realized I have actually never-- never ever, not once in my life--seen a real, live, slightly glamorous young woman actually do that, just say she didn't drink, and laugh that people didn't already know such an obvious thing about her. I wanted to ask her a million questions, but I didn't. I just enjoyed sipping my soda while we all chatted, and then I went home, feeling light-hearted about how easy it might all be if I just let it be.
So that's my week. I'm feeling about a thousand times better than I was a while ago, and I'm grateful for that. I know I will have to be vigilant, because it seems when I'm relaxed and happy, that's one of the things that can make me think drinking is a great idea. I know it's not, but I will have to keep reminding myself until that's the new, ingrained habit. In the meantime, I might practice throwing my head back and laughing, and saying, "Not for me, thanks. I'm high on life."
Thanks for reading along here, keeping me company in the dark patch I just went through and now in this better time too. Peace and joy to you, and some real-people real-life highs!
But feeling better blind-sided me in a way I didn't expect at all. While I was at school, I got advance notice of some good news that isn't yet official, and I was very pleased about it. For the past few days, the worst of the depression has really shifted, and I have been feeling like life is a whole lot of sunshine and blue skies after a long spell of crap weather. So on the way home, I caught myself thinking, "Maybe we can have some wine tonight to celebrate." No no no no no!!! What the hell is that? I've been under a crushing weight of bad feeling for a month or so, and as soon as it starts to lift, I think I'm going to drink again? Oh man! I gave myself a gentle talking-to, a bit of, "Oh love, you know that's not even what you want to do, you're just relieved to be out of the mire, that's all." It was all. But over and over, on the bus ride home, I would drift off from reading, or just stare out the window, and find myself planning to celebrate with some wine. Or maybe champagne. A nice dinner out, with wine of course. Did I mention the wine already? OK, so you get the idea. I was really surprised about how many times on that bus ride home I slipped into that old habit, thinking celebrate=wine. Over and over and over, I fell into that pit and then picked myself out of it. I was late arriving home, and my partner was even later. While I waited, I read blogs for a while, and kept reminding myself why drinking wine was a really bad idea. (REALLY BAD IDEA, repeat as needed.) When my partner arrived, I told him about my good day and good news and about me keeping on planning to drink wine. We decided to go out to our favourite fancy restaurant to celebrate. Not with wine. With dinner and dessert and the lovely walk through the city there and back. And it worked. The evening was lovely--we shared an endive salad and some lamb dish, and duck confit, and creme brule for dessert. I drank sparkling water, not wine. I really knew I didn't want to have wine anyway, I just wanted to have some sort of celebration, and that's what we did.
I think, maybe, instead of fighting down the thoughts, or instead of pretending they weren't there, it was good for me to pay attention to how I felt, how the change to feeling better after a month of feeling crap was another way I could slip into the old bad habit. By paying close attention I could remind myself what I really wanted. But it is amazing to me how strong that old habit-thinking can be. Now I know to look out for it. Happy=wine is a big one for me, and I have to slow down in the moment, feel the happiness, and disconnect it from my longstanding knee jerk reaction to happiness.
OK, that worked out well, but the next day I had another lovely small revelation, showing me how absolutely wrong I had been when, a few months ago, I wrote about alcohol bringing people together to relax. Hooray for me being wrong! Friday I had another school meeting--long discussion of some interesting ideas with students and professors--and afterward, people headed to the pub to continue talking. Back in November, I had written about noticing how, as soon as people planned to go for a drink, they started to relax. The ritual of leaving the school part of the day behind and going to socialize with some drinks is powerful. At the time, I saw this as a sign of how important alcohol is in our lives, and I didn't want to miss out on that. Yesterday I went along to the pub after the meeting, because the conversation was still going on and it was interesting, and I do like the people. I knew I wasn't going to drink. I had practiced quietly ordering a cranberry and soda (best option on a student pub), and when we arrived I discreetly placed my order. When a pitcher of beer was passed around, one young woman still didn't have anything, and a young man passed his beer glass to her and said he would wait for the next pitcher.
Here's where it get's astonishing, at least to me. The young woman threw her had back and laughed--I'm telling you, she really laughed out loud--and as she passed the beer back to the guy, she said, "I don't drink. How long have you known me, and you didn't know I don't drink?" This appeared all light-hearted and breezy for her. I swear she tossed her hair when she said it, like Mrs D talked about in her early blog posts when she imagined her future self just not drinking. It was late afternoon, so the pub was filled with the kind of slanting light that makes everything glow. You know those ads we all have in our minds, the one where everyone is lovely and the light is perfect and people are sitting at the pub, and in our minds that's the (false) image we associate with drinking? Well, it was like that, but instead the ad was remade, and it showed how the glorious moment is made up of the people taking the time to get together, just the sheer pleasure of that. No booze required, thanks anyway! The guy asked if she ever drank and, still smiling, the woman said, "Trust me, you don't want to see me drunk. Anyway, I don't need it." Another laugh. "I'm high on life!"
The subject was dropped. After I picked my jaw up from the table and sipped my soda, I was able to join in the conversation again, but I really was stunned. That's all you have to do? Just smile and be a bit glamorous, laugh even, and say, "Oh no, not for me. I don't drink." I felt like someone had reached into the world and straightened a few bits that had been bent. This was the woman who had convinced people to go to the pub the time I wrote about earlier, who I had been noticing closely when I talked about how planning to drink was, in itself, relaxing. And she doesn't even drink. What a delight this was for me, to be so beautifully wrong! I realized I have actually never-- never ever, not once in my life--seen a real, live, slightly glamorous young woman actually do that, just say she didn't drink, and laugh that people didn't already know such an obvious thing about her. I wanted to ask her a million questions, but I didn't. I just enjoyed sipping my soda while we all chatted, and then I went home, feeling light-hearted about how easy it might all be if I just let it be.
So that's my week. I'm feeling about a thousand times better than I was a while ago, and I'm grateful for that. I know I will have to be vigilant, because it seems when I'm relaxed and happy, that's one of the things that can make me think drinking is a great idea. I know it's not, but I will have to keep reminding myself until that's the new, ingrained habit. In the meantime, I might practice throwing my head back and laughing, and saying, "Not for me, thanks. I'm high on life."
Thanks for reading along here, keeping me company in the dark patch I just went through and now in this better time too. Peace and joy to you, and some real-people real-life highs!
Monday, 20 January 2014
Round 2, Day 14: Peace and calm
I've been busy with school, and will be for a few weeks at least, but I want to try to keep up on posting to remind myself what's going on with me. So here goes:
Since I made the commitment to stop drinking for a new stretch of time, I feel so much better. Some days I feel so calm, it's like I've been drugged, but I think this might be natural, and the crazy up and down of my normal days are the drugged state. Now the hundreds of mice running wheels in my mind seem to be sleeping and eating and doing whatever it is mice do when they're feeling all right. They deserve the break, poor critters.
Most of the time, I haven't wanted to drink. I'm being careful to structure my evenings away from booze. As soon as I hit what would have been wine-time, I make myself a lovely drink (cranberry and lime with sparkling water is a new favourite, but I keep trying new ones) and I sit, savouring the taste, and the pretty colour in the glass, and the relaxation after the day that the drink signals. Last time around I stopped doing that as soon as I didn't feel I really needed it. Now I think the sensuous pleasure of a pretty drink and the signal that it's time to relax after the day, all that might be an important part of what I was getting out of drinking. If that's true then I need to include it as a way of taking care of myself while I'm not drinking.
A few nights ago, I did have one of those piercing longings for wine. I came home as my partner was eating a little snack and sipping a glass of wine. It looked like the perfect thing to do, and I wanted one, too. I was tired and hungry (yes, I know they are triggers for everyone) and it had been a busy day, and I had arrived home too late to cook what I had planned for dinner. So a perfect storm of wee disappointment and fatigue. I sat on the couch for a few minutes, thinking, "OK, if you really want to you can just go ahead and have some wine. Is that what you really want?" It isn't. I know it. I have made myself this 13 weeks promise, and I'm not breaking it for a little weepy spell of being tired.
Instead of cooking, we decided to splurge and eat out at a fancy place we've been wanting to try. Before we went I carefully pictured myself sitting in that restaurant ordering some deluxe no-alcohol drink. But that restaurant was full, so we went nearby to one of my regular haunts, the cosy local where I've enjoyed drinking wine and reading a book with dinner for years, long before I even met my partner. The couple at the next table had glasses of red wine, and they twirled and swirled and fondled those glasses like they were in love with that wine. When I looked away, at the menu, I discovered that the restaurant doesn't even have a mocktail list, and their price for sparkling water is truly alarming given the quantities of it I can drink. I wanted to treat myself, but I couldn't figure out how to do that without having wine, which I wasn't going to do. I could feel the evening start to slip away from me. But I really didn't want to be like a spoiled child who can't just enjoy what's on offer because of wanting something that can't be had. So I asked the server if they had decent pomegranate juice (they do) and I made up my own special drink order: a wineglass with a little pomegranate juice topped up with soda water and a wedge of lime, no ice. For a minute I felt like one of those difficult people in restaurants who always makes a big fuss, but I got over it, and when my glass came, it was pretty, and the drink was good. The wineglass twirlers left, and my partner and I enjoyed a lovely meal after all.
That's a frightfully long passage about not having a drink, but I really do want to remember what happens. That awful mix of sadness and longing didn't exactly go poof when I shifted away from it, but it got smaller, and by the time I'd sipped and eaten, I was glad I had kept with my plan. Reminding myself that shifting away from little disappointments is just a bald fact of adult life actually helped me. Mainly, I wanted to enjoy a dinner with my partner, and I knew it was well within my reach to wreck it with my tricky mood, and I did not want to do that to him or to me, or to us.
Lately I am working very hard at practicing a dispassionate kind of mindfulness, noticing, "Oh yes, I see, this is the kind of thing that makes me want to drink. Isn't that interesting." Yesterday, work was a brutal mix of being short-staffed and crazy-busy, with a big dose of coworkers passive-aggressive decisions and reactions to it all. And I just didn't engage. I arranged for my own breaks to get covered and stated clearly that I would work as best I could to cover but I would not work overtime or skip my meal or breaks. I offered critical suggestions for how we could do a better job covering the schedule but didn't get caught up in it when coworkers decided to be heroic or irrational or enraged (or, in one case, all three) at the day. And when I came home afterwards, I noticed that I was foot-sore and mentally exhausted, but I was also pleased that I hadn't got caught in any of it. I made a fizzy drink and read the New Yorker for an hour, and by the time my partner arrived, I was starting to relax. No wine required for that. Just some rest, and time, and some paying attention to how I felt. These little "hoorays" seem so huge to me. I know putting this together over and over is a part of the work I need to do, and doing it reinforces how important it is to keep it up. Hooray indeed!
I started writing about peace and calm, and instead wrote about two wee crises that got stirred up over the past few days. It's true, they happened, but peace and calm feel like the main thing in my days. I am sleeping and eating well and reading lots, not getting as much schoolwork done as I'd like but trying my best. Every time I feel the worry-mice start up, I say, "No. Not that." And I go for a walk, or read something, or make a cup of tea or a fizzy drink instead. I think it's going well.
Lots more to say, but now I'm going for a walk in the almost sunshine, and then I will write two more pages of my thesis. And that will be an OK kind of Monday for me.
If you're reading this, thanks for the support. Peace and joy to you.
T
Since I made the commitment to stop drinking for a new stretch of time, I feel so much better. Some days I feel so calm, it's like I've been drugged, but I think this might be natural, and the crazy up and down of my normal days are the drugged state. Now the hundreds of mice running wheels in my mind seem to be sleeping and eating and doing whatever it is mice do when they're feeling all right. They deserve the break, poor critters.
Most of the time, I haven't wanted to drink. I'm being careful to structure my evenings away from booze. As soon as I hit what would have been wine-time, I make myself a lovely drink (cranberry and lime with sparkling water is a new favourite, but I keep trying new ones) and I sit, savouring the taste, and the pretty colour in the glass, and the relaxation after the day that the drink signals. Last time around I stopped doing that as soon as I didn't feel I really needed it. Now I think the sensuous pleasure of a pretty drink and the signal that it's time to relax after the day, all that might be an important part of what I was getting out of drinking. If that's true then I need to include it as a way of taking care of myself while I'm not drinking.
A few nights ago, I did have one of those piercing longings for wine. I came home as my partner was eating a little snack and sipping a glass of wine. It looked like the perfect thing to do, and I wanted one, too. I was tired and hungry (yes, I know they are triggers for everyone) and it had been a busy day, and I had arrived home too late to cook what I had planned for dinner. So a perfect storm of wee disappointment and fatigue. I sat on the couch for a few minutes, thinking, "OK, if you really want to you can just go ahead and have some wine. Is that what you really want?" It isn't. I know it. I have made myself this 13 weeks promise, and I'm not breaking it for a little weepy spell of being tired.
Instead of cooking, we decided to splurge and eat out at a fancy place we've been wanting to try. Before we went I carefully pictured myself sitting in that restaurant ordering some deluxe no-alcohol drink. But that restaurant was full, so we went nearby to one of my regular haunts, the cosy local where I've enjoyed drinking wine and reading a book with dinner for years, long before I even met my partner. The couple at the next table had glasses of red wine, and they twirled and swirled and fondled those glasses like they were in love with that wine. When I looked away, at the menu, I discovered that the restaurant doesn't even have a mocktail list, and their price for sparkling water is truly alarming given the quantities of it I can drink. I wanted to treat myself, but I couldn't figure out how to do that without having wine, which I wasn't going to do. I could feel the evening start to slip away from me. But I really didn't want to be like a spoiled child who can't just enjoy what's on offer because of wanting something that can't be had. So I asked the server if they had decent pomegranate juice (they do) and I made up my own special drink order: a wineglass with a little pomegranate juice topped up with soda water and a wedge of lime, no ice. For a minute I felt like one of those difficult people in restaurants who always makes a big fuss, but I got over it, and when my glass came, it was pretty, and the drink was good. The wineglass twirlers left, and my partner and I enjoyed a lovely meal after all.
That's a frightfully long passage about not having a drink, but I really do want to remember what happens. That awful mix of sadness and longing didn't exactly go poof when I shifted away from it, but it got smaller, and by the time I'd sipped and eaten, I was glad I had kept with my plan. Reminding myself that shifting away from little disappointments is just a bald fact of adult life actually helped me. Mainly, I wanted to enjoy a dinner with my partner, and I knew it was well within my reach to wreck it with my tricky mood, and I did not want to do that to him or to me, or to us.
Lately I am working very hard at practicing a dispassionate kind of mindfulness, noticing, "Oh yes, I see, this is the kind of thing that makes me want to drink. Isn't that interesting." Yesterday, work was a brutal mix of being short-staffed and crazy-busy, with a big dose of coworkers passive-aggressive decisions and reactions to it all. And I just didn't engage. I arranged for my own breaks to get covered and stated clearly that I would work as best I could to cover but I would not work overtime or skip my meal or breaks. I offered critical suggestions for how we could do a better job covering the schedule but didn't get caught up in it when coworkers decided to be heroic or irrational or enraged (or, in one case, all three) at the day. And when I came home afterwards, I noticed that I was foot-sore and mentally exhausted, but I was also pleased that I hadn't got caught in any of it. I made a fizzy drink and read the New Yorker for an hour, and by the time my partner arrived, I was starting to relax. No wine required for that. Just some rest, and time, and some paying attention to how I felt. These little "hoorays" seem so huge to me. I know putting this together over and over is a part of the work I need to do, and doing it reinforces how important it is to keep it up. Hooray indeed!
I started writing about peace and calm, and instead wrote about two wee crises that got stirred up over the past few days. It's true, they happened, but peace and calm feel like the main thing in my days. I am sleeping and eating well and reading lots, not getting as much schoolwork done as I'd like but trying my best. Every time I feel the worry-mice start up, I say, "No. Not that." And I go for a walk, or read something, or make a cup of tea or a fizzy drink instead. I think it's going well.
Lots more to say, but now I'm going for a walk in the almost sunshine, and then I will write two more pages of my thesis. And that will be an OK kind of Monday for me.
If you're reading this, thanks for the support. Peace and joy to you.
T
Saturday, 11 January 2014
Round 2, Day 5
I just did something I'd been planning to do for a while: I read my old blog posts. And though I shouldn't be, I'm surprised by how happy I was when I wasn't drinking. I also saw how, once I got to be lot busier with the semester--it was an especially busy semester for me--I stopped paying attention to why I wasn't drinking. So after the 100 days were up and I felt good, I genuinely forgot how bad I felt when I was drinking a lot, and how much better not drinking was.
I guess that's how this drinking thing works. Walk away and you can see the horror of it, but as soon as you're back in it, it's all coming up roses again, or the roses are all you can see, no matter what misery they're hiding.
The other night I was talking to my partner about this. I know he doesn't really get the not being able to stop after a couple of drinks thing. He's always hugely supportive of me, but never critical. Still, I had somehow invented the idea that he wasn't behind this new not-drinking routine I'm on, and I really wanted him to understand. The best I could say was that it was like being one person with two minds, and the two have trouble communicating. It's confusing, because it's hard to know what you think when you think two thoughts that are in exact opposition to each other. I think it must be confusing for him too, sometimes. How do you know who you're talking to: the sensible person who is only going to have a glass of wine, or the persuasive person who is convinced that draining the rose along with the red and maybe having a couple of large shots of brandy is the thing to do? He doesn't have the same problem. But he's seen me be baffled by my own actions enough times that he absolutely supports what I'm doing.
Of course, some of this thinking isn't new. But because I'm realizing things all over again, it seems worth writing again, just in case I need to remind myself again, as I likely will. At the same time, it's not quite like starting from scratch. This time I have all that recent experience behind me, so I know what I'm able to do: just don't drink. And if I use that experience well, I know what minefields to look out for.
In that vein, I've made a few decisions to take better care of myself in the coming few months. One is, I lightened my course-load a little. It's still going to be busy, but I have some breathing room. Another is, I've been reading fiction, and I'm going to keep that going. It's one of my great pleasures, and it's something that gets set aside when school starts. This semester, I'm going to keep reading novels and short stories. Not so much that I ignore school, obviously, but enough that I have an occasional break and enjoy the reading. And the third thing is, I'm going to keep paying attention to this process of stepping away from the drink. Last summer and fall, it helped when I did that. When I didn't, I lost some important perspective on what I was doing and why. I'm not sure what the process involves. Blogging, sure, and reading blogs. I've read some great books (reviews coming soon!) Mainly it's a whole lot of things that are all really one thing, paying attention. If I do that, honestly look at what I'm doing, how I'm feeling, all that uncomfortable stuff, I will know what to do next.
And if I don't know all of what I need to do, I already know one thing: I need to keep on not drinking. It really is better for me. Clear thinking, reading at night, tea and rain and real conversation in the evenings, solid sleep, money not spent on booze: those are just a few of the good things I'm tallying up every day. I'm grateful for all that all over again.
So that's how I'm doing. It's pretty good, all told. If you've read this far, many thanks. I hope you're doing well, too. Peace.
I guess that's how this drinking thing works. Walk away and you can see the horror of it, but as soon as you're back in it, it's all coming up roses again, or the roses are all you can see, no matter what misery they're hiding.
The other night I was talking to my partner about this. I know he doesn't really get the not being able to stop after a couple of drinks thing. He's always hugely supportive of me, but never critical. Still, I had somehow invented the idea that he wasn't behind this new not-drinking routine I'm on, and I really wanted him to understand. The best I could say was that it was like being one person with two minds, and the two have trouble communicating. It's confusing, because it's hard to know what you think when you think two thoughts that are in exact opposition to each other. I think it must be confusing for him too, sometimes. How do you know who you're talking to: the sensible person who is only going to have a glass of wine, or the persuasive person who is convinced that draining the rose along with the red and maybe having a couple of large shots of brandy is the thing to do? He doesn't have the same problem. But he's seen me be baffled by my own actions enough times that he absolutely supports what I'm doing.
Of course, some of this thinking isn't new. But because I'm realizing things all over again, it seems worth writing again, just in case I need to remind myself again, as I likely will. At the same time, it's not quite like starting from scratch. This time I have all that recent experience behind me, so I know what I'm able to do: just don't drink. And if I use that experience well, I know what minefields to look out for.
In that vein, I've made a few decisions to take better care of myself in the coming few months. One is, I lightened my course-load a little. It's still going to be busy, but I have some breathing room. Another is, I've been reading fiction, and I'm going to keep that going. It's one of my great pleasures, and it's something that gets set aside when school starts. This semester, I'm going to keep reading novels and short stories. Not so much that I ignore school, obviously, but enough that I have an occasional break and enjoy the reading. And the third thing is, I'm going to keep paying attention to this process of stepping away from the drink. Last summer and fall, it helped when I did that. When I didn't, I lost some important perspective on what I was doing and why. I'm not sure what the process involves. Blogging, sure, and reading blogs. I've read some great books (reviews coming soon!) Mainly it's a whole lot of things that are all really one thing, paying attention. If I do that, honestly look at what I'm doing, how I'm feeling, all that uncomfortable stuff, I will know what to do next.
And if I don't know all of what I need to do, I already know one thing: I need to keep on not drinking. It really is better for me. Clear thinking, reading at night, tea and rain and real conversation in the evenings, solid sleep, money not spent on booze: those are just a few of the good things I'm tallying up every day. I'm grateful for all that all over again.
So that's how I'm doing. It's pretty good, all told. If you've read this far, many thanks. I hope you're doing well, too. Peace.
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Spa week roundup: all is well
After seven days, I'm declaring Spa Week a great success! I'm so glad I decided to step back from having returned to serious drinking. I feel a lot better. Last week, I had started to feel like my mind was wrapped in cotton batting. Now I feel mentally sharp and clear. And calm. Also, my skin and eyes are clear, and while it may seem shallow to care about that, I do care. I'm not looking for the fountain of youth, or trying to preserve myself in a vat or anything. It's just nice to be healthy, and to look it.
The biggest surprise of the week isn't that skin & mind clarity, though. It's this: all week, I didn't want to drink. (Unless you count that one halfhearted little moment of want that couldn't even work itself up into a craving.) I really wasn't depriving myself. I was relieved.
Since I'm happy not drinking, you'd think I'd have made up my mind about it altogether, but I haven't quite. I still think I might be able to have a drink on occasion. I get all twisted up thinking about that, and then I don't even know what I think, or what I want. So what I'm going to commit to is this: I'm going to pay attention to how I feel, and what I want, and how that works. And in a few days, I'll take stock of what I'm learning from that. And I'll let you know.
If you're still here, thanks for reading. I'm off to make some yummy dinner, and another pomegranate ginger fizzy drink.
Peace and joy.
T
The biggest surprise of the week isn't that skin & mind clarity, though. It's this: all week, I didn't want to drink. (Unless you count that one halfhearted little moment of want that couldn't even work itself up into a craving.) I really wasn't depriving myself. I was relieved.
Since I'm happy not drinking, you'd think I'd have made up my mind about it altogether, but I haven't quite. I still think I might be able to have a drink on occasion. I get all twisted up thinking about that, and then I don't even know what I think, or what I want. So what I'm going to commit to is this: I'm going to pay attention to how I feel, and what I want, and how that works. And in a few days, I'll take stock of what I'm learning from that. And I'll let you know.
If you're still here, thanks for reading. I'm off to make some yummy dinner, and another pomegranate ginger fizzy drink.
Peace and joy.
T
Thursday, 19 December 2013
Small victory: spicy cod-cakes, fun without booze!
Last night's dinner was fun! I made a parsley salad with marinated feta, then spicy cod-cakes in tomato sauce, all from Yotam Ottolenghi's cookbook, Jerusalem. So yummy! I've made 3 recipes from that book so far, and I strongly recommend it. I haven't had time to cook anything new in months, so it was a treat to try making something new.
I drank my special pomegranate-ginger drink and didn't miss the wine at all. Not even one bit. (I honestly didn't. I was paying attention, because I know I can sell myself on a program and then later doubt the whole thing, so I wanted to know how I was really reacting, not just convince myself that it was fine. For one moment, when I saw the bottle of wine on the table, I did have a small pang, but it passed immediately. And throughout the night, I enjoyed staying clear-headed.) We ate and talked and laughed lots, and I felt so relaxed and happy I thought I would burst! My friend missed the liquor store (the one in our neighbourhood closes early) so he didn't have a lot to drink, because we didn't have it on hand. And my partner never drinks a lot. So despite my worry, it wasn't a super boozy evening anyway. Just good food and good friends enjoying each others' company. Hooray for that!
This week is interesting. Me being me, I've made a zillion plans for how I'm going to deal with this drink problem. But mostly, I'm just paying attention. And I'm surprised to find myself relaxed and happy, enjoying not drinking, just plain pleased with life. For today, that's good enough.
Peace and joy.
T
I drank my special pomegranate-ginger drink and didn't miss the wine at all. Not even one bit. (I honestly didn't. I was paying attention, because I know I can sell myself on a program and then later doubt the whole thing, so I wanted to know how I was really reacting, not just convince myself that it was fine. For one moment, when I saw the bottle of wine on the table, I did have a small pang, but it passed immediately. And throughout the night, I enjoyed staying clear-headed.) We ate and talked and laughed lots, and I felt so relaxed and happy I thought I would burst! My friend missed the liquor store (the one in our neighbourhood closes early) so he didn't have a lot to drink, because we didn't have it on hand. And my partner never drinks a lot. So despite my worry, it wasn't a super boozy evening anyway. Just good food and good friends enjoying each others' company. Hooray for that!
This week is interesting. Me being me, I've made a zillion plans for how I'm going to deal with this drink problem. But mostly, I'm just paying attention. And I'm surprised to find myself relaxed and happy, enjoying not drinking, just plain pleased with life. For today, that's good enough.
Peace and joy.
T
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