I Am Not an Alcoholic: Camaraderie was coming out of the cracks in the walls

I may have mentioned that I do ballet in another article and that, despite not being very good, I enjoy it very much. Our teacher, Arianna from Sardinia, puts on a show every year and until this year I have been a willing participant – of the audience.

This year Arianna encouraged me, along with a couple of other previously happy audience attendees, to join the ensemble and dance on stage. At first I was reluctant, but she was persuasive and I found myself joining this very diverse group of wonderful people.

I had never done anything like this before and, as rehearsals expanded into four a week, a bond was developing between the dancers. We grew tight as a group, and one of the things I liked most about us was the diversity. We were fewer than 50 people, yet came from 12 countries. Our age range was 19-78 years old. Our socio-economic backgrounds were also varied.

I have never experienced a camaraderie like the one I experienced with this group of people. The only thing we all had in common was our love of ballet and our commitment to the show, yet I have rarely felt closer to a group of people than I did with “my tribe”. We did not want to let ourselves down – or Arianna, who had put so much work into the project.

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The show, from being far off in the distant future, suddenly was the next day. Along with my stage debut came my stage fright. We arrived at the theatre at 11am. Some of us had been to the hairdressers to get our “ballerina bun” done, while others, including me, relied on the kindness and expertise of our fellow dancers to perform this task, which they were more than happy to oblige.

Camaraderie was coming out of the cracks in the walls. Arianna had wanted us to wear a lot of make-up around our eyes and, once again, a fellow dancer came to our rescue. By the time she had finished with me, a queue had formed and although she still hadn’t a screed of make-up on herself, patiently saw to everyone else’s needs first. Along with our feelings of anxiety about performing on stage in less than an hour, there was a lot of love in that room.

Although terrified, I found it to be the most exciting experience of my life. The high I got from performing on stage in front of – for the most part – strangers was like nothing I had ever felt from drinking alcohol. I would recommend anyone to put themselves out there, out of your comfort zone. You may be surprised by what you discover.

I was trying to tidy up my files and I accidentally deleted 1,000 words of the article I was writing. I am just as untidy in my home as on my computer. But at least at home, if I throw out something – and it’s before bin day – I can retrieve it. Not so with my computer. Sometimes I think my computer hates me. I can feel its antagonism as soon as I open it.

[ I Am Not an Alcoholic: ‘After the AA meeting a man had the temerity to tell me that I wasn’t being honest’Opens in new window ]

I wonder why those braces they clamp on your car are in bright neon yellow? Is it because they want everyone to see the culprit? Can’t someone tell them yellow is not the new black? As I discovered, having your car clamped is not just one bad thing. Like the Holy Trinity there are three in one. First there is the exorbitant fee (you might get a starter in Guilbaud’s for the amount). Secondly, the embarrassment. Nobody is happy sitting in their car with a neon yellow brace hugging its wheel while passing car drivers look at you thinking: Serves you right for not paying for parking. Or the nicer driver: “Glad it’s not me.”

And finally, there is the wait. It can be up to two hours, they tell you when you call to give your credit card details. Luckily, I was only waiting 20 minutes, which was just as well because my husband needed the car that evening to play bridge. He must never know that our car was clamped.

Enjoying the good weather, I was sitting in the sunshine with some friends when the conversation turned to nonalcoholic beers. Someone mentioned a popular brand with 0 per cent alcohol and said how delicious it was. Remembering how I used to love a cold beer at lunchtime in the warm sunshine made me think: Hey, I could try one of those.

The thoughts running through my head were: Beer wasn’t my preferred drink, wine was. So it wouldn’t matter if I were to drink a nonalcoholic beer, it wouldn’t make me want the real thing.

Really?

Have I worked this hard to destroy it on one glass of nonalcoholic beer, which would have me ordering the real thing before the beer got warm? Fortunately, common sense prevailed before I beckoned the waiter. Nonalcoholic drinks are great for those who are not addicted to alcohol and just want to stop drinking for a short time. But for those of us who abuse alcohol, they are to be avoided.

I need help sometimes and I don’t really have it. It would be nice to call someone when the desire to drink is strong and my resistance is being tested.

So, with this in mind, I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting to give it another chance. I had high expectations this time it would work for me.

It didn’t.

At times throughout my life, I have felt like I didn’t fit in, and going to AA meetings has reinforced this feeling for me. I saw what the others in the room were getting out of the meeting. At AA meetings, the members share a collegiality alien to me. I envy them their ease with each other. I am not a part of that. It passes me by like a speeding train that doesn’t stop at my station.

And yet, I don’t have any problem with my ballet group, where there is great diversity and I have no difficulty communicating with them. All we have in common is our love of ballet. With AA, sobriety is our common denominator.

We all want to stay sober, yet I feel a divide between us. I wish it were different.

Before I went into rehab, I tried, on several occasions, to stop drinking myself. It didn’t work

I like my own company, but not always. While I consider myself to be a very social person, I also need to be on my own from time to time, but when things get tough for me, I have no sponsor to call and pour out my heart to, which is a pity.

People leave AA meetings feeling good about themselves. They’ve connected to others who share the same struggles and difficulties, and together they can support each other. However, when I leave an AA meeting, I feel bad about myself. I’m envious of their camaraderie. I want that too. Why can’t I connect with these people? What is wrong with me?

Just because I’ve thus far resisted the urge to drink does not mean that I always will, and who will I call when the bottle is beckoning? I think about that every day.

Like everyone, there are days when my fragility is more emphasised than others and I need to protect myself. How? I’m not sure. What has worked for me up to now may not always be enough. It is something for me to be aware of. If I can anticipate any dangers to my sobriety, maybe I can avoid them. At least that is my hope.

It’s funny but some people are under the illusion that going into rehab and committing to a programme is all it takes to stop an addiction. If only. Those who think like this are people who have never experienced the desire to keep doing something knowing that is bad for you but doing it anyway. The reality is a large majority of people who go into rehab fail not just once but repeatedly. Rehab thankfully worked for me (I was crossing my fingers as I typed those five words). But before I went into rehab, I tried, on several occasions, to stop drinking myself.

It didn’t work.

The longest time I was sober for was 3½ months. I really wanted to be able to stop drinking without help, but it was not to be.

Going into rehab was frightening but perhaps the fright I needed.