Tag Archives: sober

Kindness

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I am who I am.
I love who I am today.
I love me as I am.

Did I expect to feel fantastic right away? Admittedly, yes.
It didn’t happen. NO.
Should I be surprised? No.
It took years of habit to drink alcohol and use it as a crutch to feel relaxed and good in my own skin. So really I have ripped off a plaster and the wound is exposed. It doesn’t heal right away. It needs fresh air, tenderness and time. Time…

When a physical wound is treated there are possible trips to the doctor, stitches if necessary. Cautions of what not to do. Treatment of the area. Rest and recovery. It’s a universal procedure. Seek treatment if you cannot heal yourself. But with mental health it is not treated as the same thing. There is a disconnect between the physical and the mental within our bodies. Or at least in the West. There is so much not understood and with this comes taboo and stigma and fear of the unknown.

Talking about yourself to strangers in a group setting brings up anxiety of group work from my school days. Did I like talking out in class. No. Did it make me feel comfortable? No. Were we encouraged to voice our opinions? No. Public speaking is not a quality my society excels. We tend to not blow our own horns. We are humble and meek. Or we used to be. The influx of American reality shows has sparked a demand for “me me me” and instant gratification for a few moments in the limelight. This is not reality though.

The thought of going to an AA meeting does not match me or my personalty. I cannot do it. The thought of going to a therapist does not match me or my personalty. I don’t believe in spending hundreds of dollars on my feelings, talking about me to a stranger is nonsense. Most of the therapists go into study to understand themselves better. Good for them. But for someone to heal or improve doesn’t that make the therapist redundant? If the therapist is not needed anymore then their income from that patient stops, so how does the relationship end? It’s unhealthy. Sure there must be some morally ethical therapists out there. And there must be some good ones out there too. After all this is just one opinion.

Reading and writing are my therapy: my path to understanding myself better and developing a better version of myself. Rest and relaxation. Kindness to oneself is key.

12:59 am

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Getting earlier to bed I hope this time. The evenings feel longer when sober and yet I still manage to waste time. I am not productive at all. Patience. For this week my goals are to not drink. to be easy on myself because I am not sleeping early enough. Yesterday it was 4:30am when I was dozing off. How do I know that? I heard the morning bird calls and that’s the time that they start.

Is procrastination a side effect of becoming sober? I didn’t read that on the label. It appears that I have a large dose of it. But really in all honesty I have had it for several years. I stupidly thought that after giving up alcohol I would feel like jumping out of bed at the crack of dawn and have heaps of energy and just full of ideas and just run with it. This has not happened. I don’t feel like jumping out of bed in the morning because I am still awake from the night before almost at the crack of dawn. Sluggish is more the correct word. Apathetic is another one that springs to mind.

Firstly, being kind to oneself is key. I am doing myself a favour by stopping drinking alcohol. I am loving myself. Another way to love myself is to give myself a break and not rush this expecting instant results. There is no instant gratification on giving up drinking. It is not a race. It is a slow walk taken one step at a time. Doing one nice thing to myself each day would make this easier. Perhaps a nice soak in the bath with bath salts, a candle and a book. Put on a record and listen all the way through side A. That’s for starters.

The first thing that comes to mind with the bath is a glass of wine. The first thing that comes to mind listening to a jazz record is a bottle of wine. These associations are so ingrained to made it a habit. Instead of a glass of wine in the bath I could prepare a tall glass of sparkling water with ice and a slice of lemon or lime. I could make a latte instead, sit back and listen to jazz. This is a chance to be inventive. This is just the beginning. I am not missing out on something. I am gaining better health and better habits. Begin the begin.

2:38am

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Awake and sober. One is planned the other is not. I wish I was asleep but the zzzzzs are not coming. Patience. The wind is tossing the tree branches about, there’s a possum running about on the roof. A passing car has loud music blaring. The typical sounds of the early morning. Right? No bird sound, thank goodness. I would like to be sound asleep well before then.Let me try again. Good night.


Floundering

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Giving up alcohol has been relatively easy. Wait. Let me finish. Not buying wine or beer has been easy. The insomnia, the anxiety and the unease is the crazy bit. 3am and I am wide awake. I have taken to writing instead of tossing and turning. I am hoping the insomnia will stop by itself. Hoping that it will last only another week. I am normally an easy sleeper. Out like a light within ten minutes. That seems so long ago now.

Abstaining from alcohol is actually the starting line, not the finish line. I have all this free time on my hands. I feel lost in knowing what to do next. I then tell myself slow down. You have been drinking for years, what makes you think the answers will fall in to place so instantly. Give yourself a break. Slowly, slowly. We all know what happens when one overdoes something. We are not repeating that again.

Constipation, insomnia, anxiety, teary moments, unease, lethargy, no joy. I thought that I would wake up with energy, no hangover, no lethargy without alcohol. This has not proven to be the case. Am I behaving like a child and sulking about what has been taken away and not focusing on what I have been given? Probably. My liver, my heart, my brain, my blood are screaming with gleeful delight. I might not be able to feel it just yet but they must be enjoying feeling cleaner. 

Healthy eating is not happening. I know what I eat and drink. My sweet tooth is still there. I am not one to jump on the scales and obsess about weight and calories. However I do have a complex of feeling overweight constantly. I do not diet. I don’t believe in them. I do want to change my lifestyle. That I believe in. Diets are fads. Lifestyle changes are that. A better change that is a good habit added to ones life.

A gym membership is what I invested in a year ago. I am going fairly regularly now. I do feel good after having walked, stretched and lifted something. It is money well spent. Considering I have done little in the way of exercise for a decade it was a necessary expense. It wasn’t quite kicking and screaming to get there but it was close. It got me off the couch.

Blackout

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Eight days and here I am. The world has not shattered. I am clean and sober and perhaps a little anxious. But I suppose that is to be expected. A long time coming. A much needed rest for my body, mind and soul.
I am oh so good at excess. Just one more. Push it to the limit. With alcohol it is not so forgiving. Do I want to end up dying of alcohol poisoning? No. Most definitely not. But if I had had just one more drink I don’t think I would be here today.
Luckily I threw up.
One call away from an ambulance ride.
Never thought I would be thankful for that.
Blackout and vomit.
Crunch time.
We have a problem.
Crunch time.
Dried vomit on my face.
Dried vomit on my clothes.
Dried vomit on the sheets and bedding.
The smell…
Well you can imagine.
Not pleasant to say the least.
I was washing for days. To rid myself of the evidence of the night of forgotten thoughts and actions.
Enough is enough is enough…


The pounding in my head

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As I listen to the sound of the neighbour’s party music and loud raucous voices, I don’t feel the slightest bit envious. I am not missing the drink. The constant need to have a drink in one’s hand. To say something witty or profound. No. let’s pass on this round. Let’s pass on the conversation. Let’s sit back and wonder why? Or not. I really cannot be bothered.

Reaching for a glass, pouring the contents of a bottle into said glass, not to the rim, yet a generous pour none the less. Consuming the contents of said glass at a rather fast pace. What is the hurry? you say? Well. I’m not really sure. But as the rabbit said I mustn’t be late. There is no rhyme nor reason for someone to drink fast. It is neither better nor worse whether with company or alone. Alone there is no competition but a race to get to the end of the bottle. Again there is no race, but an imagined one. There is no reasoning with one of the competitors once the race has begun. They must finish the race no matter the consequences. It must. It really must.

Essentially holding a glass or a bottle in one’s hand is a coping mechanism, is it not? A desire to fit in, regardless of the crowd. As they say you cannot fit a square into a round hole. But you can sure spend time trying. Alcohol numbs the noise of the voices in your head. The ones that tell you you are not enough. Why we listen to them is beyond me. Why do we have them in the first place?