Good arvo all…
I‘ve been reading back through my blog entries.. I am a bit of a twit aren’t I? Suppose I ought to apologise or something but to be honest, it is my propensity to twitness that keeps me going.
I am currently 27 days sober as part of my Dry January pledge and today, as I am making my thousandth attempt to reshape my body, I took MO with me to ParkRun in Worthing. We had a good old chat about the fact that he wouldn’t be stopping constantly as Mum really is training to be an athlete after all and needs to work on her.. erm.. form and stamina. He agreed he would either keep up or let me run ahead. Unfortunately his anxiety got the better of him which meant we stopped. Quite a bit. And then… after I had faithfully stuck with him despite crying inside.. the little sod SPRINTED to the end. Leaving his poor bloody mother struggling with her calf muscles seizing up (because she had stopped and started so many times), coming in 19 secs behind him! The absolute audacity. So that’s it. He is banned from ever running with me ever again.
I have also decided that as I am nearing to the end of January, I am now going to be do 100 days dry. I haven’t felt this healthy since I was born and even then I was on the verge of malnourishment at one point apparently, so in fact one could say that I am literally the healthiest I have EVER been. I am still wobbly and rotund (the LO loves telling me that I still have a fat belly, each and every time he gets the opportunity. He now lives outside.). Even Mr P has been sober (although he admitted to two small (large) gins last night at a friend’s house. I gave him a particularly pitying look and nodded in a very understanding, albeit sanctimonious, way. He is now currently out on a bike that he has rescued from underneath a tarpaulin at the end of the garden. I have no idea how well it works. Guess time will tell. If he’s not back this evening I shall presume that either it collapsed mid-pedal or he just cycled to the pub and is refusing to leave.
I have found a great FB group that is really supportive and not at all preaching or judgey. Which is great because I already have children who are willing to fulfil that requirement. If anyone (like literally anyone) is actually reading this and needs/wants to address their relationship with alcohol.. I recommend reading a couple of books that I have read recently (This Naked Mind – by Annie Grace and Alcohol Explained – by William Porter). Also joining a FB group might be more your cup of tea than joining another well known anonymous group. Plus if you join the Dry January challenge, you can set it for a year and see the little tea cups mounting up as you tick off the days. Marvellous.
Not drinking has made me address a lot of things. My dependence on alcohol as a social crutch, a stress crutch, a relaxing crutch. I knew my consumption was mounting but I was also aware that so were my stress levels. My inability to just be content. The constant striving to do the next thing. In the past 3 weeks I have had time to contemplate about the changes that being sober bring upon you. Yes it can be hard and frustrating and with that brings the resounding resentment but this is usually in fits and starts and abates as the time goes on. I wake in the morning feeling glorious in the knowledge that I am not hungover. That if I feel shit it’s because I just happen to feel shit. That I haven’t brought it upon myself and with that I shoot yet another arrow at the Shitty Guilt Fairy who usually resides on my shoulder. In fact.. the SGF has been pretty scarce recently. She does rear her head as the drinking memories flood in whilst driving to uni or as I do some house work. “Remember the time you passed out at so and so’s birthday party”, “remember the time you promised the kids you’d go somewhere but couldn’t because you were hungover”. I have told her to do one.. and her voice gets a little bit more tinny and pathetic as the weeks go on. I reckon she is going to have sign-on soon.. see how she likes the queues at the local Job Centre, that’ll piss her off. With her becoming more absent, I have become more present. I am starting to like myself. Those of you who know me will know that I struggle with self-esteem, despite appearing so confident. I like to jump up and down on it with studded shoes. The first 30 or so years of my life, I made a lot of bad decisions to cope with feelings of failure and resembling a misfitting puzzle piece and a lot of those decisions were fuelled by drinking too hard or any other form of self-destruction I could lay my hands on. For the first time as I looked into a mirror whilst getting ready for an exam I had this week, I actually looked into my eyes and told myself that I was doing ok. That ‘Chloe’ was alright. That finally the child who felt worthless at times, or neglected, or just plain odd.. was ok. That she was winning. Tears streamed down my face. A sense of control has taken hold. A sense of who I am has taken hold. A sense of being ok has taken hold. For the first time ever, I feel capable of doing whatever I put my mind to, without the SGF whipping my back until I bleed tears.
For once. I am actually doing ok.