WE'RE GONNA PARTY LIKE IT'S YOUR BDAY - DAY 70

I won’t lie to you. I figure we have grown to know each other over the last couple of months and what sort of friends would we be if I kept secrets? You see, my original plan was to stay sober for 2 months in order to have a breather and win a bet. I won the bet FYI. The plan took a new turn when I was searching for an appropriate blog title. Somehow ’62 days of sobriety’ just didn’t have the same ring to it as ‘100 days’. Then again, 40 days seemed to be the bible’s choice when it came to periods of punishment and rainfall, not to mention Moses. The poor fellow was apparently up on Sinai for 40 days receiving 10 commandments. Why on earth was he only getting 1 rule dished out every 4 days? Perhaps he was the world’s first ice addict and simply lost track of time.

In short, I didn’t factor in that I was having a birthday in the middle of this epic dry spell. I tossed and turned for a few nights considering what it would mean if I had a drink at my own party. Having arranged a shindig for 32 people at my house and feeling like I was in a good place for the first time in years, it seemed somewhat strange to deny myself a drink for the sake of proving a point. But I DID want to prove a point, and so, I decided to abstain…initially.

The days rolled by until the 10^th of March knocked on my front door. At approximately 6pm, I turned to my flatmate and said “I would like to have a drink because it’s my birthday and I feel like celebrating”.  And that was that.  I had 2 half drinks and 1 full drink the entire night. To be honest, I wasn’t enjoying the flavour or the tipsy feeling at all. I ditched the first drink and simply lost the second. I finished my third and then felt it was sufficient. I woke up completely hangover free and minus any desire to drink again in the near future. I racked my brain for clues as to how I truly felt about ‘giving in’. Instead of guilt, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Why? Because I chose to drink when it felt right and chose to stop when it didn’t.  I finally realised that it wasn’t really ever about the number of days but about finding the right amount of time that allowed me to reset my bad habits. It is not necessary for me to have fun or to be silly or to talk to strangers. It is not my friend and it is not my foe. It is just something to be enjoyed at the right time and for the right reason. “You are not searching for something anymore” my colleague explained. “Not hiding the pain of the past or the angst of the future”.

"YOU GOTTA PROBLEM?" - DAY 60

Do I have a problem? No, I have many.

Some friends have noted that my commentary on this adventure creates an image that I did actually have a drinking problem. That in itself is quite a confronting notion because I never thought of myself as having ‘a problem’. Sure, I admit that I was partying a lot and in not wanting the fun to stop, I had some issues cutting myself off from the bar. Perhaps I celebrated the birth of Jesus last Christmas a little more than you would expect from a non-practising Catholic, but so was everyone else. Right?

I searched for answers, keen to find out what constitutes a drinking problem and was surprised to find a few very broad statements that I seem to fit into.

-         Yes, I was a little lax when it came to controlling my drinking limits

-         Yes, I suffered nausea, vomiting and headaches at times

-         Yes, I may have been verbally abusive when some twat shook my feathers

-         Yes, I didn’t get much work done some days after rolling into bed at 5am

-         Yes, I ended up with some credit card debt because I replaced budgeting with shouting rounds on my credit card

-         Yes, there may have been an occasion when a family member noted that I should cut back

I’m a little shocked because I saw myself as more of a good time gal than a raging drunk. Although, having said that, I was obviously feeling like things were getting a tad out of control at the end of last year otherwise I would not have forced myself into abstaining for 100 days.  The most shocking part of this is that I think a lot of people would also agree with many of these statements. According to the powers that be, you only need to answer yes to three before you should probably start re-thinking your drinking habits. From this, I can only deduce that there is an extremely fine line between having alcohol play a cameo as opposed to a starring role in this play called ‘Life’.

Many years ago I sat in the garden of Northside Clinic as a visitor, talking to all sorts of people who had issues related to alcohol. A striking observation was that alcoholics come in all shapes and sizes.  There was no particular ‘look’ or socioeconomic background. They were sons, husbands, mothers and fathers. They were young and they were old. One thing they had in common however was that a small habit had snowballed into an uncontrollable desire that was affecting their ability to function. Its understandable how one of the first steps of AA is simply to admit you have a problem. Drinking is so entrenched in our Anglo-Saxon culture that the deeper I delve into this Odyssey the more I think we ALL have a problem. Maybe we are all just treading on a tight rope, sometimes we fall off and then we jump back on. Others don’t have the strength to pull themselves up alone.

Do I have a problem? Yes, I have many. Alcohol is not one of them.

SUPPORT CREW - DAY 57

Just when I thought work was falling into a monotonous routine, the International Truck and Trailer Show pops into my inbox.  Not usually my idea of a great day out, but so desperately wanting to do anything anywhere out of the ordinary I jumped at the opportunity to push digital radio. Besides, who can resist an all expenses paid trip to Melbourne? I am also rather curious at the crowd it will draw and toying with the idea of a short skirt and fake tattoo. Having said that, perhaps they are not the type I want attention from in the first place. My new found enthusiasm may also have something to do with the Formula 1 being on that weekend. My Mum is a big fan, stays up to all hours watching it and whilst I would have preferred to see it in Monza, Melbourne also starts with M and has an enormous Italian community. It will suffice for now.

Anyway, all this Formula 1 planning sparked a few thoughts about how the support team seem to get very little credit. I have inadvertently acquired my own support crew over the last week. My clean living has encouraged 2 people to hitch a ride on the back of my wagon and join me for the last 50 days, naturally with the exception of my birthday party in a few weeks. Team member 1 excitedly sent me a text message at 7am on Saturday morning to inform me that she made it through Friday night without a drop of drink and she felt FANTASTIC. “OMG, go back to bed” I replied, “p.s. I’m really proud of you”. It has become such a normal part of my being now that I forget what a big deal it is for everyone else. I’m slightly awkward at parties but I’ve accepted that that is the way I am. I feel very self conscious dancing but one day I will get over that too. The truth is I’m just not that good at it and the alcohol fuelled an obscure belief that I am.

I love the fact that I can remember every conversation and put them in my memory bank to hold against people when the right time surfaces. I work better, I sleep better, and now I am exercising 4 times I week, I actually feel like a lighter, happier, healthier, more sensible me. It’s as if, 57 days into it, I have sobered up, woken up and can think straight for the first time in 5 years. I feel a bit emotional today as well, and no, it’s not a woman thing. I’ve wasted time recently on the people who like me drunk, and not pointed my energy in the direction of some real friends who have been there through thick and thin.

Team member 2 happens to be my boyfriend. I spent the first 2 months drunk. I was certainly entertaining and I think he was amused by my desire to paint with oils in the house after 5 bottles of red. I wouldn’t recommend that by the way. In a hangover haze I ended it, citing irreconcilable differences. Fortunately he gave me a second chance when I realised that you will never really know someone if you can’t even remember any conversation you have ever had. Truth be told, I like him even more when I’m sober. A good thing, I’m told.

I think back to all the bad decisions, the nasty things I have said to people and the mistakes I have made. I blame the alcohol but really, it was my fault to believe a depressant was actually a stimulant. The ‘Drinkwise’ website describes its affects: alcohol is a depressant drug that acts to slow down the central nervous system and inhibits many of the brain’s functions, affecting almost all the body’s cells and systems. Increasing alcohol levels in the body slows down a person’s reflexes and rapidly makes judgement, co-ordination and balance more difficult. I’m now left wondering why ANYTHING that alters one’s ability to function properly with potential long term side affects can be legal. Perhaps the tax department could provide an explanation to the 30-something sufferer of alcohol induced dementia in the nursing home where my mother works. It’s not something our age group hears of often, but I’ve seen it, first hand. And I can assure you it is very much a reality for some.