‘I was not expecting there to be a whiff of alcohol within sight, I was caught unaware’

Part 23: Prudence is the key to sobriety — it is important to remember the tough times

'Is it not time I stopped torturing myself and uncorked a bottle of wine?' Photograph: Getty Images
'Is it not time I stopped torturing myself and uncorked a bottle of wine?' Photograph: Getty Images

I survived Christmas but it was hard. At times, it felt like an exam for which I hadn’t prepared.

All those glasses of wine within my reach, the smell from the breath of the person sitting next to me, the empty bottles being replaced by full bottles — as quickly as a soldier would reload his gun in a battle — as if their life depended on it.

The number of times I handed the wine glass to the waiter, in case he mistakenly filled it (I think the temptation might have been too strong). I can hear the voices saying: “Ah, go on, it’s Christmas.”

“If you can’t indulge yourself at Christmas, when can you?”

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Ha, yes. The thing is, I am indulging myself. I am taking care of myself. Because a glass of wine is never going to be enough for me, I will always want the bottle.

You may not know that, but I do.

Those dark, murky days following Christmas are not my favourite days. This year, I got sick and was in bed for over a week. As I couldn’t read or concentrate on anything, all that was left for me to do was look out the window at the grey sky and wonder if I was ever going to see blue sky and sunshine again. Yes, it was self-pity time. I have noticed when life throws me a thorny rose my antenna is sharp and I am on my guard against Dolores (my name for the voice of temptation) telling me how wonderful I am for not drinking in such a long time.

And is it not time I stopped torturing myself and uncorked a bottle of wine?

It is those times when life is testing me that I am acutely aware of the importance of not succumbing to “a glass of wine”. It makes me think of the circumstances in which Dolores’s voice might make sense. Would that be when life is throwing me beautiful, thornless roses? This is why holidays are, while not to be avoided, certainly to be viewed as high triggers in the struggle against alcohol. On dark days I seem to be hyperalert to the temptation of opening a bottle of wine. I feel this might vary from person to person. For some people, feeling down and miserable about something is a bigger trigger for them than joyful occasions. I find this fact interesting.

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I’m both amazed and astounded at the fact that I haven’t had a drink in two and a half years. The amazement comes from the fact that I never thought I could do it. The astonishment comes from the fact that I still desire alcohol.

How can this be? My naive assumption that I could abstain from alcohol for a year and re-learn how to drink in a becoming manner was a complete absurdity, but, I held that belief when I was in rehab. Until I didn’t.

I recently heard about a woman who, sober for 12 years, believed she might be “cured”. Even her husband agreed. So, he opened a bottle of wine to celebrate her cure and she regressed. It took her another four years before she could stop drinking alcohol again.

I do not want that to happen to me.

I received an invitation in the post to enjoy a complimentary membership of a new wine club. Ha, can you imagine me in a wine club? I would disgrace myself. As others swirl their glasses, put their noses in to sniff the aroma and exclaim on the flavours they could decipher: “Oh, I detect a hint of mahogany or perhaps it’s beech. No wait, I’m sure it’s a chestnut.” I would have raised my eyes to heaven while drinking the glass. There would have been no savouring of taste or colour or whatever else a wine connoisseur does. No, as long as they kept pouring it, I would have been happy. I put the invitation in the recycling bin.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

I was stopped in my tracks and, before I realised it, I asked: “Why are you serving wine?”

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The girl looked surprised and confused and probably wondered had she stepped into an episode of One Foot in the Grave where the cranky curmudgeon wants everybody to be as unhappy as he is. I think my reaction was the surprise element. When going to certain events I am armed and prepared for the onslaught of alcohol and have my defence ready.

This time, however, it was a talk given by a large global charity agency on the topic of climate change, I was not expecting there to be a whiff of alcohol within sight, I was caught unaware. I was sorry I mentioned it.

I should have just said: “No, thank you.”

It’s interesting that the biggest threat to climate change comes from those who have the deepest pockets and affects, sometimes fatally, those who have the least. Our speaker that evening, as well as working for this charity, was a farmer from Blantyre in Malawi. She had first-hand knowledge of the difficulties of growing crops to harvest. Listening to her talk of the drought which caused the harvest to fail and then the floods which destroyed the crops was heartbreaking. These people work so hard with long days in the burning sun to try to grow food for themselves and their community. In the so-called “developed” world a disaster on this scale would have us running to our cellars. The developing world doesn’t have any choice but to wait until the time is right to plant its seeds again and hope, this time, there will be a fruitful harvest.

In the past, I have struggled with feeling grateful. Instead, I have found myself listing all the awful things happening in my life. We all have days when even finding three things to be grateful for is hard (don’t we?) And we grumble: “What have I to be grateful for?” (Hmm, maybe that’s just me). Yet, it is those days when we most need to express our gratitude. I found I had to learn to practise gratitude. It didn’t come easily. When I would read about someone being grateful, I would think: “It’s okay for her. If I had what she has, I’d be grateful too.”

Instead of waiting until six o’clock (earlier on bad days) to open a bottle of wine and forget about life — until the morning — I am now embracing life and appreciating things I couldn’t see when alcohol controlled me

If I’m having a bad time, I try to find something good in the day to be grateful for. A cup of coffee with a friend; A beautiful day; the slightest sliver of blue in an otherwise dull sky, that’ll do; Clean sheets on a bed (even if it was me who put them there); running water — yes, I know you’re probably thinking that’s a bit far-fetched — but here’s the thing: two billion people have no access to running water that’s a lot of people, in fact, it’s 26 per cent of the world’s population.

The next time you switch on your tap and the water flows without limit, think about that.

While I understand the power of gratitude, it doesn’t mean that I always get it right. Those long dark days sick in bed had me struggling to find gratitude in anything. And when I spilt a cup of hot tea over myself and the bed, well, let’s just say being grateful was not high on my list. I was grumpy. Later, a friend dropped in dinner and cough sweets and lip balm and hand cream — and suddenly without a conscious thought, I felt a warm wave of gratitude.

Thank you, kind friend.

Sadly, I think a sense of entitlement has replaced gratitude in some people’s minds. And that sense of entitlement leads to disappointment. Of course, we hope nice things will happen and are disappointed when they do not materialise, but hoping for something is not the same as expecting it as our right.

Those of us who expect and demand certain things are going to be disappointed. We need to show gratitude for what we have, rather than focus on what we lack — (I’m talking to myself here) — the latter seems certain to lead to disappointment.

Stopping drinking gave me back my power. It took me a long time to accept that alcohol was controlling me. Far too long. But better late than never. Suddenly, I had choices. I don’t always have to have a bottle of wine on standby. I don’t have to plan where I would get wine if going to some place where wine might not be available, or how to make an excuse to leave early so that I could rush home and open the bottle.

I don’t have to try to hide the amount I was drinking and pretend it was because it was a particularly good wine. Why not have another glass? Instead of waiting until six o’clock (earlier on bad days) to open a bottle of wine and forget about life — until the morning — I am now embracing life and appreciating things I couldn’t see when alcohol controlled me.

Besides my power, abstaining from alcohol gave me confidence. Self-confidence is not only feeling good about ourselves, it is as much about knowing our weaknesses. If we are inflexible or unable to listen to others’ opinions we may suffer from a surfeit of confidence. True self-confidence is knowing when we don’t know everything. And I know whether I haven’t had a drink in two, three or 30 years I still can’t have that one glass.

It seems crazy to remember all those mornings, waking up feeling ashamed when I looked in the mirror, seeing the guilt reflected at me. Promising myself that I would never drink again — a promise that lasted as long as the hangover. I remember the days I would open the bottle determined to only drink three glasses only to find I’d finished the bottle. It’s a wonder I let it continue for so long.

It is important to not forget one of those single mornings because by a wicked twist of fate, if I forgot how awful those mornings were, I could end up back there.

Prudence is the key to sobriety.

I Am Not an Alcoholic Series