Ah, another Christmas. Already. How did that happen?
I would like to remind anyone who is concerned about their drinking and how it might affect them coming up to Christmas to tell a friend or go to an AA meeting. Meetings are on every day in different locations and at different times to suit any schedule, and those attending do make you feel welcome. You don’t have to be sober, you just have to want to be. You never know, it might be the beginning of a new chapter in your life.
This will be my second Christmas as a non-drinker. Well, that’s not strictly true. The first Christmas without drinking occurred when I stopped drinking (on my own) on November 28th for almost three months. I fell off the wagon when, talking to my French neighbour, she spoke of her brother and sister and how much wine they drank every evening. She made it sound so normal, and being half-French, I said “moi aussi” and went home and opened a bottle. I think I knew deep down that my abstinence was a temporary thing. I was testing myself to see whether I could stop drinking, and when I’d proved I could, I started to drink again – thinking in my naivety that I now had control.
I hadn’t.
Michael Harding: I went to the cinema to see Small Things Like These. By the time I emerged I had concluded the film was crap
Look inside: 1950s bungalow transformed into modern five-bed home in Greystones for €1.15m
‘I’m in my early 30s and recently married - but I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with her’
Karlin Lillington: Big Tech may not get everything it wants from Trump
So, this is actually my third Christmas without alcohol. You’d think I would be used to it. No, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. Every day is a challenge, and every day I must be aware that alcohol is forbidden to me.
“Just the one”: That voice is not mine, it is the voice of Dolores (yes, I’ve named her so that I can keep my identity separate from the voice of temptation) luring me to do something that would temporarily satisfy one desire and permanently destroy all others. Bringing me back to a place from which I’d escaped. A place where the bottle of wine was of utmost importance, so much so that if it was empty, I would sneak off to the shop just before 10pm, after which the licensing laws declare it illegal to sell alcohol.
The next morning, looking in the mirror, I saw not my face, but a sea of familiar faces staring back, pointing their fingers at me and saying, “Shame on you. Have you no discipline?” I turn away, red-faced. I could not hate myself more.
Yes, “Just the one” are three words that really mean, “I’ll catch you in my trap and once again you will be my slave.”
It happens sometimes and I don’t like it. I have prepared dinner and everything is bubbling away on the hob or roasting in the oven, and I turn around as if to open a bottle of wine. I see myself reaching into the cupboard to take a glass when reality hits. I can’t have a glass of wine. It only lasts less than a second, but it is frightening.
Disappointment is a part of life, and we must do our best to embrace it, and maybe if we do, we can lessen its impact
What if one day it lasts more than a second?
This is why I can never be laid back about alcohol, even with my new-found attitude. Awareness that I am one glass away from the bottle is keeping me sober. Dolores may be whispering rather than roaring, but she can still be heard loud and clear. My mantra, “think of tomorrow morning”, is a tool that still works, but now there is an added dimension: Time.
Well into my second year of sobriety – gosh, that sounds incredible – how did that happen? I mean it. How did that happen? – My investment portfolio is healthy. I sometimes thought I would never be able to stop drinking, and worried about where I could get my wine if I were old and immobile.
I don’t want throw away 17 months of sobriety. My assets far outweigh my liabilities.
The word “deserve” is often used erroneously. “I deserve to win”, or “I deserve that promotion”, when what we really mean is that we want to win or we want that promotion. Nobody deserves anything, or at least not as often as we think we do. To deserve something requires hard work and dedication. And even with hard work and dedication, we don’t always get what we want (even Mick Jagger doesn’t) or what we think we deserve. A desire for something doesn’t mean we deserve it. But sometimes our expectations are out of line with our reality. The lines between desiring and deserving are crossed, resulting in disappointment. Equally, when bad things happen, we say, “I don’t deserve that”. Whether you do or not, it’s happened, so deal with it.
Remember those arrows? They are still here and once again I didn’t duck. Well, how could I? Not only did they come out of the blue but they came at me from all angles, so even if I’d ducked, one or two would have struck a target.
I may handle disappointment better now, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It does. I had a bad day, not like in Gaza, but it was my bad day, and I’m owning it. A kind friend invited me to call over if I wanted to talk, but I felt it was better to deal with it on my own. I tried cleaning, putting all my energy into the task, thinking when I saw the results of my effort, it would help. It didn’t. I cried. That helped. I also reminded myself that I can’t change anyone or anything, but I am in control of my reactions. That felt good.
But the reality is that, when disappointment strikes, it is important to sit and breathe into it. Not to say: “This shouldn’t have happened.” Or “How dare such and such a person say/do this?” It did happen. Accept it. If I had taken up my friend’s offer, I would have spent the morning talking and probably – no, definitely – complaining about my situation, which wouldn’t have changed a thing. That’s not to say talking about a problem with a friend isn’t helpful, but if the problem is a chronic one which erupts now and again, it is best to sit quietly and remember to breathe.
We’ve all said, “it’s just one thing on top of another”. That is the time to sit quietly and reflect. I don’t mean to contemplate, but the other meaning of this word – to throw back without absorption. Because disappointment is a part of life, and we must do our best to embrace it, and maybe if we do, we can lessen its impact. It’s certainly not the time to flail our arms and scream and shout obscenities. You can do that if you want and see if it helps. Did it help the last 2,000 times? Not for me it didn’t. Why not try a different approach? What have you got to lose?
Why is it that when invited to a drinks party, everyone brings a bottle of wine? Are they afraid their host will run out?
Have you noticed how often wine is offered as a gift? It seems to be the go-to gift. Who doesn’t love a bottle of wine? It’s a convenient gift and, as well as being given for a birthday present, is frequently offered as a thank you for some kind gesture. I used to love receiving a bottle of wine. A most practical gift. It would be drunk before it had a chance to be regifted. I remember my husband saying many times when we were invited out to dinner: “Where’s that bottle of wine we got yesterday? We could bring it to Ed and Sue’s”.
Yes, we could, if I hadn’t drunk it last night.
And now with Christmas on the horizon, many bottles of wine will be exchanged.
Why is it that when invited to a drinks party, everyone brings a bottle of wine? Are they afraid their host will run out? On occasions, stacked in a corner of the hall, I’ve seen so many wine bottles, all wrapped in those pretty, wine bags, that one could open a wine shop. What’s wrong with a bunch of flowers? I look on drinks parties as a kind of test.
Though they are not the dreaded evenings they would have been a year ago, just like any test, I go in prepared.
Along with my Christmas party dress, I collected my suit of armour from the dry cleaners yesterday. I was shocked when told how much I owed her. She said it was labour-intensive trying to polish all that metal.
It’s good to have it hanging in my wardrobe just in case. The above drinks party invitation comes with a dress code, as does Christmas Day. Emotions are always heightened at Christmas and there may be times when I will need it to protect me, not only from Dolores, but from the comments (read insults) that might fly in my direction from a family member:
“Do you find the turkey a bit tough, or is it just me?”
“Are you sure these carrots are cooked?”
“These Brussels sprouts are very soft. Is that the way they’re meant to be?”
Or the family member opening a carefully chosen gift asks, “Does it come in another colour?”
At which point you want to explode.
As I said, emotions are heightened at Christmas, and that includes mine, so when I go to a lot of trouble to make Christmas special, these comments can be dangerous. Best to remind myself of Marcus Aurelius – “How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it?” He also said there are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help and what they cannot.
My reaction to the wrong-colour jumper, should it go the wrong way, could result in someone (me) throwing the jumper into the fire. Would that solve the problem? No, the consequences would be much more grievous.
Christmas should possibly come with the same status warnings which Met Éireann issues. Yellow: Be aware; Orange: Be prepared; and finally Red: Take action.
I don’t know what the weather will be like over Christmas, but I shall be aware, prepared and ready to put on my suit of armour. Happy Christmas.
(RIP Matthew Perry and my two friends I met in rehab who sadly died this year.)
Read
- Part 1: I am not an alcoholic
- Part 2: I told myself I’d stop at three
- Part 3: Someone drank hand sanitiser
- Part 4: I’ve stopped drinking nine bottles
- Part 5: A man told me I wasn’t honest
- Part 6: Will you regret taking this drink?
- Part 7: My eye is stuck on the wine
- Part 8: Could the floor swallow me?
- Part 9: Should I try AA again?
- Part 10: Combating life’s little horrors
- Part 11: Go on, you deserve it
- Part 12: Why I write anonymously
- Part 13: I lost my sparkle
- Part 14: Abstinence has brought power
- Part 15: I could not hate myself more