Now is a Good Time

I have noticed a stillness in my head. Like a pool of calm water. Clear. Sharp. No fog. I’m feeling alive.

Today we’re headed to the mountains. We’re getting into character, listening to Fleet Foxes. Dressed in a flowery skirt, and skinny jeans. Wearing odd gloves. Stopping for snacks before leaving the city. We’re being outdoorsy. It isn’t like us.

I remember watching Fleet Foxes from the top of a hill, at a music festival in Barcelona. The sun on my back. Wine in my cup that I’d smuggled in past security. My love beside me. At that moment, I was present. I’ll remember it always.

And here we are on a new adventure, not following any rules, not knowing where we are going. Meandering.

Passing by stone walls. Spotting birds of prey. Climbing over wooden stiles. Breaking the ice with our shoes as we follow the path of the river, upstream. Enjoying our own company, the three of us. Admiring the landscape and each other. Chatting about albums from 2005 and walking through burnt out fires.

 

This popped onto my phone screen:

‘Now is a good time to be present.

Now too.

And now.’

Light Box

My husband changed the message on the little light box that sits on the kitchen shelf, right above the sink:

BE SELFUL

I love it. We spend years pleasing other people, being made to fit in, to conform, to not stand out, to go unnoticed, to make minimal impact, to not be ourselves.

I’m breathing a sigh of relief to be in my groove. To be feeling clever, interesting, valid, punchy, kind. Kind to myself.

It’s day 90 or thereabouts of no alcohol. An estimation as I’m not interested in counting out the days on the calendar and the more days that go past, the more there are to count. I’ve lost weight. Again, I’m not counting. I don’t own scales but I’ve had my wedding band resized so it no longer falls off my finger.

I’m stretching on the kitchen floor. I’m taking a break from yoga classes. I can feel something not quite right with my body so I’m resting and running. I’m checking in with me. Taking it easy.

I’m feeling the strength in saying no to the things I can’t or don’t want to do. I’m thinking of myself more. Being Selful.

 

I’m listening to Cloud Control’s Meditation Song #2 (Why, Oh Why)

Hold my arms out to the sky and rain

Let out all my emotions and my pain

Peer into the center of my soul

Find all the parts I need to make me whole

 

Day 84

Last night I went to a birthday party. A proper grownup house party, with cocktails and gin and prosecco and 3 types of guacamole.

I’ve been playing it very safe until now. This was a milestone. My first social occasion without alcohol. I didn’t miss it at all. I might have had more fun sober than I would have had if I’d been drinking all the cocktails, gin and prosecco.

I was brilliant. I was confident. I was myself.

I had catchups with old friends and great chats with new friends. People were interested in the sobriety move. They asked questions. They offered their stories.

Over the past few months I’ve had emails, messages and real conversations with people who have said that they’ve been inspired to cut down on alcohol or even stop drinking completely. But I also hear people say the exact words that I had said:

‘I could never do that’.

I am doing it.

I ate crisps, hung out in the garage, stood in the line for the toilets. I took loads of selfies. And then I drove back home.

Day 84.

 

I keep coming back to these words by Rupi Kaur

Fall

In love

With your solitude

Day 69

I can feel a new energy. With work, with home, with friends. And I’m listening to The Lemonheads, like the teenage me.

My thoughts about alcohol have been swinging forwards and backwards, but as the days, weeks, months go by, I’m thinking about it less. Less thoughts about wine on a Friday evening. Less conflict in my head. My friends have asked ‘what about Christmas?’ and ‘what about your birthday?’ Having drinks to celebrate those moments really isn’t my thing right now.

Last Christmas I was in my third pregnancy. 6 months before that I had suffered a miscarriage and so the pregnancy felt bittersweet. We had been hoping for another baby since our first was born, 4 years earlier so it was very planned and very wanted.

And with the Christmas pregnancy I had convinced myself that things would end early. I was a little bit hopeful but I was also frightened, and sad. I was distraught, even before the miscarriage happened. And when it was over, I drank wine because I could. Because I felt like my Christmas abstinence had been in vain.

Horrible.

I’m freeing myself of the mindset that alcohol should play a part in my life. I’m sure I’ll drink again at some point but I want it to be mindful. If I can embrace an alcohol free Christmas, birthday and holidays, over the course of a year, through the seasons, with the ups and downs of life, then I’ll have achieved a new normal.

We’re on day 69 of 365. This is it. And this is my weekend. It is normal. Full of reading, family visits, long baths, takeaway for dinner, playing, adventuring. I’m planning for the future. I’m saying goodbye to storing things up. I’m letting go.

Balance

1st October. Sunday morning. I got a text from my mother:

‘Only 10 months to go’

The car wouldn’t start. I had ruled out going to yoga in the evening, and in my head I rearranged my day and made a list of all the things that needed done.

I had a long lazy morning with chocolate on my porridge and a visit from friends. And somewhere in there, I went for a run. It took me past the leafy pavements with the big houses. It took me towards the cinema, then downhill to the river. The sky was grey. The ground was wet from the morning rain.

I turned back, along the river path, with the wind in my face. I followed it towards home, past some dog walkers and towards the traffic lights, hoping for a pause before the cars stopped. The lights were red so on I went. Slow and steady. Onwards, with the river still to my left I headed back uphill to the house.

As the afternoon went on I started to feel agitated. I was thinking of the million things I needed to do and the million things that the week ahead needed from me. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I was feeling overwhelmed and anxious.

My husband was working his magic around the house, cutting the hedge, sorting the understairs cupboard and talking about the broken car. I saw him sitting in the drivers seat, reading the manual. Next thing, the engine fired up. Woop! Back on track. Off I went to yoga for my weekend fix, leaving my list behind. I can’t even remember what was on the list now. The class was about balance. Perfect.

 

Some beautiful words from Joanna Newsom’s, Peach, Plum, Pear:

This is unlike the story

it was written to be

I was riding its back

when it used to ride me.

I have big feelings

It’s early morning. The house is silent. The child is fast asleep. I’m making coffee and walking on Lego. I’m playing a game where I pretend how I’d feel if I hadn’t given up booze.

Well it’s Friday for a start, so I’d be looking forward to drinks tonight. And I’d likely be telling myself that’s ok, because it’s Friday.

I’d probably be making promises to myself about not drinking after the weekend.

Although it has been simple to make the switch, it hasn’t been without its moments of ‘oh I really want a glass of wine’. These moments are short lived and always come at a point where we’re marking a transition or an occasion. My biggest cheerleader is my non-emotive husband…

Me: ‘Oh I really want wine’

Him:  ‘Wise up mate’

When I say non-emotive, it’s something that we (I) joke about a lot as he has the ability to not be bothered by anything or anyone. I can see that changing. Things are having an impact on him rather than falling off his shoulders.

My friend’s three year old nephew says ‘I have big feelings’.

I have big feelings too! I read a poem* a few days ago and tears started streaming down my cheeks. I haven’t cried at poetry before. Wow. I’m tapping into emotions that I never knew I had. Cutting out alcohol is taking me to extreme places. I’m enjoying the ride, the highs and the lows, and the rapid benefits that are really noticeable and very encouraging like my healthy bank balance and my leaner body.

When I’m feeling wobbly, I remember that this journey, this life hack, this social experiment is my choice and the wobbles leave.

 

*by Nayyirah Waheed

 

your soul stained my shoulders.

my whole life smells like you.

this

will take time.

undoing you from my blood.

 

—the work

Mountain Pose

The last few days, I’ve been craving the horizontal. Longing to be close to the ground. Child’s pose. Corpse pose. Flat.

My husband however has been out and about. He told me of an advertising image in an ad shell at a bus stop, that he passes on his walk to work. I roll my eyes as he tells me what it’s about.

My home city’s economic marketing campaign ironically named Alive After Five is aimed at ‘young professionals’ and the key image shows staff behind the campaign standing in the heart of the city with a glass of wine. What kind of message is that sending to people? Is this responsible marketing? Isn’t there an alternative marketing hook that aims to improve the economy of our city other than getting wasted? Hey, stay in the city and take some drugs!

The wine is everywhere. Billboards, bus stops, tv, magazines, engrained in our minds.

Between 2006-15 in Northern Ireland, according to NISRA there were more than twice the number of deaths caused by alcohol (2680) than drugs (1023).

Alcohol is a drug. It’s addictive.

Now that I’m outside of the alcohol bubble I’m really struggling with how it is promoted and normalised and how it can weirdly form part of a marketing campaign to keep people in our city centre. And whilst these ‘young professionals’ spend their money in pubs and restaurants, the ‘alcoholics’ sit on benches and sleep in doorways.

We’ve been conditioned to think that alcohol is fun and tasty. Is it fun? Well it kinda just slows your brain down. Is it tasty? Erm, nope that’s the copious amounts of sugar.

I’m going to get off the floor now… Mountain pose.

Handstands

I recently had a date with a friend who is slightly ahead of me on the sobriety journey. We talked about what had made us give up alcohol, and how it didn’t feel for one minute that we were giving up. more like we were gaining time, energy, money and happiness.

When you start a journey that grates against what is normal, like giving up alcohol for 365 days, or embracing your silver hair, you’ll realise that you are doing this for yourself. It’s very personal, and that’s brilliant and brave and a little bit scary.

You will also find that other people start making it about them. They will be critical of what you are doing. They will be defensive about what they are doing. We noticed how people have felt the need to defend their relationship with alcohol. One person even described what my husband and I were embarking on as ‘extreme’.

It is so normal to drink alcohol. It’s difficult not to think that it should be part of every celebration. It’s so common to think that you deserve a glass of wine or a gin and tonic at the end of the day. It feels like a positive step to make, to pour that drink. When do you ever think about the damage that alcohol has to health and wellbeing?

I had been trying to push the negatives to the back of my mind. I knew it wasn’t good for me. I knew that alcohol was a depressant. I knew that it increased your risk of cancer. I didn’t want to think about the negatives though because I couldn’t imagine not having a few glasses of wine when I went out for dinner. I actually couldn’t imagine it.

Here I am over a month later and the normalisation of drinking alcohol seems absurd. And I never thought I’d say this but I’d much rather be doing handstands in the kitchen on a Friday night than drinking wine.

I’m being brilliant and brave and not afraid.