Kiddipedia
I used to wake up every Sunday morning with a hangover and ask myself,
‘Why do I keep doing this?’
I’d lie in bed with waves of anxiety rolling over my body wondering how a civilized cheese and wine evening had ended in me being thrown out of a nightclub and being sick in a taxi?
I always promised myself I’d do better, moderate, not over-do it, but by the following weekend I was at the bar waving money at the barman (and complaining to him when my glass wasn’t full to the line!)
Any good intentions were inevitably obliterated as I ordered my third glass. Once I started I simply could not stop.
As the saying goes,
‘One was not enough and two was too many’
Then with my Inhibitions gone and my self-care out the window, my focus became where my next drink was coming and who was getting the shots in. I used to stagger home, regurgitate the unwise tequila/sangria combo and pass out.
A pattern I repeated for over 25 years.
Until I had children.
They popped my party bubble and gave me consequences.
Waking up feeling like shit and then realizing I had to care for my lovely baby caused me to question my drinking habits for the first time. I wasn’t able to parent properly and I felt terrible that I was letting everyone down. Being a hungover parent was not what I wanted yet drinking was so ingrained in me that seeing beyond my binge drinking habit was impossible.
You see, I’m the party girl, the one with the VIP passes and the funny dance moves. A role I had carved out since being a drunken 13-year-old over-dosing on cider in a farmer’s field. I was the person you could rely on for a good night out, a night that always resulted in a crazy story to share over a Bloody Mary in the pub the following day.
My drinking was clever in many ways. I never drank alone and never before 6pm. I surrounded myself with people doing the same, so my drinking got absorbed into the crowd, diluted by the party. There was never a time when someone stopped me and told me to slow down because I didn’t stick out as having a problem and even though my hangovers got progressively worse as I aged… I never paused to address it. I never questioned.
Then that positive pregnancy test. The first time I was forced to slow down.
The birth was hard and then I had to take a baby home and keep him alive. The responsibility was overwhelming, so when I could I did the only thing I knew how, I drank. I went out at the weekends a got blotto. I escaped by getting hammered.
But slowly my hangovers changed.
They morphed into something more frightening, more sinister.
I had to lie in bed lying as my husband packed the pram to take him to the park as panic filled my soul. I had to lie there knowing I was failing as a mum.
But I could not imagine a life without being a drinker.
A life without the effervescence of cheap champagne or the satisfying pop of a cold beer cap made me shudder,
‘How dull’ I thought
‘How boring’
I just couldn’t even fathom it….
So, I didn’t do anything about it.
For four years, even though I hated myself, I made excuses to drink.
Invites pinged into my inbox, my elbow got twisted and after all, it was ‘Kelly’s 40th’ or ‘Eurovision’ or ‘The Office Christmas Party.’
I made excuses and carried on….then I got pregnant again,
I remember saying to my husband just before my second baby was born,
‘I like being sober. It suits me’
I had enjoyed going out and not drinking, I had decent conversations and I could remember everything the following day, it had been sort of ‘blissful.’
‘I’m going to try and do better, moderate, be a healthier drinker’ I promised.
But who was I kidding? Old habits (Aka – addictions!) die hard and within 6 weeks of the birth of my perfect baby girl, I went out and got hugely pissed. Wasted in fact. I made a fool of myself in a local bar and woke up feeling so ashamed that I wanted to die.
It was one hangover too many.
I’d had enough.
Enough of the chaos.
Enough of the anxiety,
Enough of being the party girl.
There must be something else?
I wanted to get to know the sober me.
I questioned for so long that in the end I had to seek out some answers. I realized that I couldn’t moderate (I failed every time I tried) and that I was the one creating my problem, not the environment, not the peer pressure or the ‘Time for wine’ memes, it was me
Little old tipsy me.
I had to take responsibility for the fact that I had a drinking problem and needed help to fix it.
It’s confronting admitting to something as huge as this, but accepting my problem was how I was able to move forward from it.
I found a therapist that specialized in alcohol and I got to the bottom of why I was always drowning myself out with booze. It was a long, messy process with lots of ugly crying… but I got there.
So, here I am.
Sat at my computer writing this with over 1000 days of sobriety. A miracle I know. This party girl has ditched the disco and the hangovers and now lives an alcohol-free life and I’m so bloody proud I could shout it from the top of the Aldi carpark!
Finding a Community
During my first year of sobriety, I felt very alone I didn’t know that there were others like me. Others that questioned.
I was in my local book shop mooching along the aisles trying to find something, anything about addiction. I asked the lady at the counter in a quiet voice,
‘Do you have any books on alcoholism?’
‘I’m sorry I can’t hear you… what’s was that? botulism?’
‘Er, no ALCOHOLISM, you know… people that drink too much’ I said far too loudly.
I felt heads turn my way and saw eyes appear over the top of open books.
‘Oh, sorry yes, come with me’
I followed her to the back of the shop to the self-help section.
‘Have a look here’ she pointed to The 12 steps and a book about brewing your own beer.
‘Thanks, I’ll have a browse’
As she walked away, I imagined what was going on in her brain,
‘That woman has a baby in a pram and is looking for books about alcoholism. How awful’
She probably thought what a terrible person I was. The scenarios swilling around in her head would have been if rock bottom moments. Me, drunk in charge of a little one whilst lying in a pool of sick. She probably wanted to call a help line or ask me politely to leave.
I wanted to grab her and pull her back and explain that I wasn’t like that. My sort of drinking wasn’t like that.
She walked away and I sat down cross legged next to the row of books about booze. As I pushed one book onto the other, they made a thump sound. I rejected each one based on title.
Giving up Alcohol with the Help of God
God gave wine
And something called Spirit Junkie.
I’m sure they were all good reads and had their place in the recovery book market, but they weren’t for me. So, I kept flicking through and was annoyed when nothing jumped off the shelf. Giving up drinking can be an isolating time and on the floor of the bookshop with my pram looming over me, I felt like there was no one out there like me.
I was heading to the door when a gentle hand landed on my forearm.
‘Excuse me?’
It was the girl from the counter.
‘Have you read this?’
It was a book called Sober Curious by Ruby Warrington.
‘I used to drink too much’ the girl said.
‘I read this, and I found out that there are lots of people struggling like I did’
I instantly felt awful, she hadn’t been judging me earlier, she was concerned. I took the book from her hands and thanked her. Our eyes met briefly, and it was clear that this moment was special. I felt a warmth, a knowing, pass between us. It felt nice.
I turned the book over and read the back. I was shocked. It could have been me. She had questioned and got help and was now marching forward into this whole new sober world.
I was inspired.
I bought it and felt happy as I slid the brown paper bag under the pram.
I devoured the book over the weekend and, for the first time felt that I wasn’t alone.
After I finished it, I decided to have a search online to see if there were others? Other middle-aged parents desperate for change.
Within 5 seconds I found a plethora of articles on sober curiosity. I found sober social groups and chat rooms and blogs. It was endless. There were hundreds, thousands of women like me. All struggling with anxiety after drinking, all feeling guilty and yearning for something else.
A sober curious community was within my reach and I soaked it up quicker than a jug of Pimms. Every article I read made me feel more secure. I had validation. I knew I was doing the right thing. All of these amazing people were getting sober… There’s a whole band of us, a tribe. Everyone of their articles had a place in my heart. Stories of love and recovery.
I found an article in The Guardian in which Ruby Warrington described a sober curious person’s mindset,
She said,
“It’s a questioning mindset to every drinking situation. Rather than go along with the dominant drinking culture”.
“There’s this idea that you’re either a problem drinker or an alcoholic, or a normal drinker who has no issues with alcohol. More and more we’re seeing there are shades of grey when it comes to dependence on alcohol,”
I was lost in that shade of grey for years. Too drunk to realise I had a problem. But not drunk enough to deserve intervention. I realised then that too many people had been slipping through the cracks. Stuck in the pub with a huge glass of wine hating every minute of it. I wanted to help them, somehow be part of this community and share my own story.
I was sober curious just like all these other inspiring women.
I was one of many.
So, if you resonate with me, or you’re feeling like your drinking is affecting your life in a negative way…. Reach out, break the cycle and join the tribe…
You are one of many.
Victoria x
@drunkmummysobermummy
