I’m Surrounded

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I’m surrounded by booze at every turn!  It’s wine o clock Facebook tells me, emails show up from frequent flyer loyalty programs offering me award winning reds, updates from sober blogs come in from Twitter, colleagues telling me to relax with a glass after a stressful day.  I don’t event have to leave my desk to be bombarded by triggers telling me to have a drink!

When did our society become so obsessed with alcohol… hmm is it society, or just me obsessing?  Perhaps that’s a mirror better not looked in LOL!

Anyway, that’s my whinge (whine??!) for the day.  Have a healthy, happy day wherever you are.

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Still Here

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Well, I’ve just done my third sober weekend in a row.  Who’d have thunk it, not me that’s for sure!

I survived a stressful week at work and turned down Crazy Cat Boys kind offer to get me wine on Saturday because, and I quote “Perhaps  you’ll sleep better if we drink”.  Nice try honey, but that’ll do the opposite.

Despite the fact that I have a calendar that would give Salvador Dali nightmares and “fluid” is the closest corporately acceptable way that can be used to describe the current state of all the events I’m trying to coordinate (shitful is the way I’d describe it, just in case you wondered),  it’s all pink clouds and fluffy bunnies here for the time being.

Peace out internet peeps!

Painting: The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali

Pop, Fizz, Glug, Glug….Crash!

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Yep, that was me falling off the wagon in spectacular style.  Coming into my third Friday night sober with 15 days under my belt, the wheels came off.

We’ll just have a quick drink before dinner, like responsible adults.  Yeah, right, we all know how that ended don’t we?

I don’t remember going to bed.  I do know that three bottles were involved; the evidence was there for all to see the next morning.

Speaking of morning, that wasn’t pretty.  We were looking after the neighbours animals and the dogs are inside overnight and must be let out early (6.00 am early!) so they don’t make a mess IYKWIM.

So, feeling dreadful, I dragged my sorry, bloated arse out of bed pulled on my walking gear (if I had to get up, I may as well exercise) and set off to see if I couldn’t walk off the stupid.  It was lovely day in wine country, kangaroos, kookaburras, the odd lorikeet, hot air balloons floated serenely through the dawn sky.  I appreciated NONE of it as I just tried to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Talk about enjoying life, not!

I managed my usual 8km and decided that bacon and eggs would sort me out.  Crazy Cat Boy had made it from snoring in bed when I left to sitting vacantly on the lounge watching TV.  “I don’t drink any more” he announced to me as I flopped down beside him.   “Yep, me neither” I replied.  Mind you, we’ve both said this before, numerous times.   Talk about slow learners.

Breakfast was duly consumed.  I lasted until around 10 am and then went back to bed.  I thought a lay down with a book would help, nope.  In my hungover state the poison in my body meant that trying to focus on words actually made me feel nauseous.  Great.  I’ve done so much damage to myself with one decision that I’ve lost the ability to read.  God help me if there was an emergency and I had to drive – well, I couldn’t anyway; I’d be over the limit still by my calculations.

Three days later my one consolation is that while I threw away 15 days of feeling on top of the world I know that I must have been doing something right if my body* reacted that acutely to something that only a few weeks ago it simply would have shrugged its shoulders at and gotten on with the day.  I’m lucky; I’ve clearly come to my senses in time that my body will heal itself relatively quickly.

So, if you are still thinking about stopping/cutting back, learn from my mistakes and give it a red hot go, you won’t regret it.

* Physically my hair felt like straw, my face was blotch and yuck. Mentally I’ve been sad and kind of listless, only just starting to feel happy again now on day three.