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.