Do you ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong?
You leave the house without your wallet. You go back for your wallet only to discover your keys are in the house along with the wallet.
The winter morning light is so feeble that the difference between a pair of black tights and a pair of navy tights is negligible. You wanted black tights, but you find it doesn’t matter either way because, later in the day, you discover you have on one black suede ankle boot and one navy suede ankle boot.
These annoyances are just minor irritations, but our response to them matters because, great or small, we make them better or worse by how we respond. By accepting that it’s already happened, we can lessen its impact. Sure, a big disappointment is horrible, it hurts and we think the sun is never going to shine again.
But wait a minute, how many times have we been disappointed before? We got over it and we will and can again.
Why make it worse by our attitudes? Don’t place greater significance on it than it deserves.
Putting things into perspective is a phrase we hear constantly but how many of us practise it?
Recently, I suffered a disappointment and to make matters worse, it happened on top of one or two minor upsets when I was already feeling under par. There was a tightening around my heart and my thoughts were in turmoil. But worse of all, I felt angry. When I recognised this emotion, I knew I had to do something. Anger would not help the situation but it would distort the rationale and it would sap my energy. No, I needed to breathe into that anger and put it in its place. A place far away from me.
A lot of people have a drink when things become too much.
“Here’s a drink, it’ll take the edge off,” is said whenever a problem feels insurmountable. An option not available to me. But how helpful is it? The effect will wear off and then what? Take another drink? You see where this is going? We have to face our demons and try to outwit them.
I went on a day retreat and at the close of the day we walked across the road to the church. After a short service, we were invited to take Holy Communion
I went to a get-together one evening. It was a room full of women, I can’t remember how many but more than 10. The hostess was the only one in the room who knew my story and had got in supplies of my favourite sparkling water.
I thought I was hearing things when, apart from two women, everyone asked for water and even those two women changed to water after their first drink. What was this?
Bottles of wine stretched out on the countertop remained unopened and untouched. Such was the demand for water that at one point when the hostess was refilling my glass, I said to her: “You will have to perform a miracle like Jesus, only you will have to change the wine into water.”
She laughed and said: “You’ll have to put that into your article.”
I still would not be happy if everyone knew I have an addiction to alcohol.
Why is this? I don’t know. It could be that people act differently when around non-drinkers, particularly those of us who have abused alcohol. They sip water alongside you thinking they are supporting you. They are not. If they like a drink and abstain because they don’t want to tempt you, they are not acting normally and it puts pressure on the friendship.
Then there are the friends who do have a drink and keep asking me if I mind?
Does it bother me?
Would I prefer it if they didn’t drink?
I would prefer if they would stay quiet. I have reiterated that I don’t mind others drinking around me, I mind that I can’t.
There is a difference.
I went on a day retreat and at the close of the day we walked across the road to the church. After a short service, we were invited to take Holy Communion. Although not a member of the Church of Ireland, I stood up to take Holy Communion. As I approached the altar, I noticed that the congregation was taking bread from the rector on one side and then turning to a woman holding a chalice on the other side. I quickly worked out that the chalice contained wine and was to be avoided. As I returned to my seat, I felt all eyes on me:
“Oh, look, that woman is not taking a sip from the chalice. I wonder why?”
“She must be an alcoholic.”
“She doesn’t look like an alcoholic.”
“What does an alcoholic look like?”
“Oh, you know, hooded eyes and all bloodshot.”
(In case anyone thinks the above conversation actually happened, it didn’t.)
For the first time in years, I was in Davy Byrnes and despite being a non-drinker I liked the mirrored bar reflecting bottles of every shape and hue. It reminded me of an old French brasserie. The beautiful ceiling, the original art work on the walls all made it a pleasant place in which to eat lunch. I shall be back.
I heard my phone ping. When I picked it up, I saw that it was from a WhatsApp group – a group unaware of my drinking history. On my screen was a photograph of a couple sitting at a table in a restaurant and a waiter is taking their order.
“I would like a non-alcoholic Guinness,” says the man.
“Do you want a colouring book and crayons as well?”
Really?
Often humour is used to camouflage our inner feelings – our fears and anxiety can be assuaged by humour.
I went on holiday to Italy. Was I nervous? If I am honest – yes, I was. How could I not be? On holiday, one’s inhibitions are lowered before the added temptations of the warm weather and the melodious Italian language (is there any other language that sounds like a song is being sung when spoken?) are thrown into the mix. And what spaghetti bolognese or risotto alle vongole is not enhanced by a glass of red wine?
I didn’t buy a ticket for Dolores, but she wormed her way on to the flight as I suspected she would. And, despite the baggage allowance, my suit of armour was the first thing I packed.
All went well. Yes, I would have loved a glass of wine, but knowing I couldn’t stop at one, prevented me from having the one. I did, however, unknowingly taste alcohol. It happened one morning when, ordering coffee, it came with a nicely wrapped chocolate sweet. They were so attractive (and small) I asked the waitress if I could have another. I swallowed the two little sweets and drank my coffee before I realised what they were – amaretto-flavoured biscuits – there was nothing I could do.
The deed was done.
I was invited to a Sunday lunch. It was a late lunch and both red and white wine were being served. As usual, I was the only one not having a drink. But I really wanted one. I looked at the glasses around the table and envied those lifting them to their accepting mouths. I thought of how it must feel to swallow the nectar sliding down their throats.
The desire to have a drink was strong. I was indulging an unhealthy obsession and knew I had to stop. I noticed how, after the first one or two glasses, everyone started to relax. It’s not that they weren’t relaxed before, but there was a noticeable difference after consuming some alcohol. I missed that.
I think sobriety is a lot like life. It has peaks and valleys. There are times when I feel more secure in my sobriety than others
My search machine knows me well and when I opened my laptop this morning, an article popped up. What happens to your body when you drink wine every night? At first, I wasn’t interested. I think I’m an expert in answering that question but curiosity got the better of me. I was sorry it did, and as I was going through the list, my heart was sinking lower and lower. Instead of a damning article on the woes of wine, it was promoting a glass of wine. I am not going to list any advantages of drinking wine here.
But, just when I was looking for a corkscrew ... finally, what I’d been hoping to read.
Alcohol is dehydrating and can cause your skin to age prematurely. Yes!
Alcohol may trigger spider telangiectasia lesions to appear under the skin. Yes!
Headaches are very common when you drink red wine. Yes!
Sleep becomes difficult with alcohol in your system. Yes!
I think sobriety is a lot like life. It has peaks and valleys. There are times when I feel more secure in my sobriety than others. The desire for a drink is not always associated with a bad day or a disappointment. Happy occasions can also be a trigger. Excitement at hearing good news and we all want to pop the champagne. I need to be aware of my triggers and prepare a defence. I would never have thought that 21 months of sobriety was a possibility and if it were, then all desire for alcohol would disappear.
I mean, if I can stop drinking for that length of time then surely, I could have a glass of wine occasionally?
I would no longer be stupid enough to drink until the bottle was empty. Would I?
[ I Am Not an Alcoholic: ‘Abstinence has brought power back into my life’Opens in new window ]
Sadly, I’m afraid I would. As time moves on, our memories become blurred and tell what we want to hear and not what is true. I need to remind myself constantly that my drinking was out of control and I can’t drink like those people who sit in front of a glass of wine all evening and sip at it periodically. Where’s the fun in that?
Although I shall be 21 months sober this month, I still have cravings for alcohol. Enough that are slightly alarming. I am not out of the woods yet.
Will I ever be? Probably not.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to write this or not but as I started to write these articles for myself and no one else, I feel I must. That fear that someday I may be weak and take the one is always there. Dolores’s voice is saying on repeat: ‘It wasn’t so bad when you were drinking. Look at all these people enjoying a glass of wine. You can too.’
The fear that one day I may believe her is frightening.
Read
- Part 1: I am not an alcoholic
- Part 2: I told myself I’d stop at three
- Part 3: Someone drank hand sanitiser
- Part 4: I’ve stopped drinking nine bottles
- Part 5: A man told me I wasn’t honest
- Part 6: Will you regret taking this drink?
- Part 7: My eye is stuck on the wine
- Part 8: Could the floor swallow me?
- Part 9: Should I try AA again?
- Part 10: Combating life’s little horrors
- Part 11: Go on, you deserve it
- Part 12: Why I write anonymously
- Part 13: I lost my sparkle
- Part 14: Abstinence has brought power
- Part 15: I could not hate myself more
- Part 16: Hiding my dependency
- Part 17: Alone in Paris
- Part 18: Return to rehab