9 days sober…

I have done 9 days without the tiniest sip of anything alcoholic. This is quite big news in the Land of the Petit’s. Not gunna lie, I have struggled. Teetotalism seems to happen something like this..

Day 1 to 5 you wake up feeling great. No gasping for water at any point during the night, no camels scratching around in your mouth in the morning… and you wake up in the morning, not in the early hours, feeling like shite. You hop, skippity skip to wherever you need to be, trying to drop your saintliness into every possible void in a conversation..”oh yes, I don’t drink you see.. I am a Bhuddist now.. Enlightenment is really only just round the corner.. Oooh I thnk I see it!”and off you levitate to catch up with it.

Day 6 – 9 appears to go somewhat differently. One could say, a little bit more angrily. There is a definite tetchiness in the air. Especially when you have had a bit of a tête a tête with a new lecturer and who you now detest with every fibre in your body. A body that now hurts rather a lot. No not withdrawal, more muscle strains and ligament pulls because you have either run or yoga’d your body into submission because by god, if there is anything that is going to be come out of this self-induced hell of red wine deprivation every fecking evening, then it will be a body of supermodel standards!! (Failing that, a bit thinner than it currently is).

It’s the sinking into the sofa with glass in hand that I miss. The ‘ahhh…’ moment as the kids dissolve into their beds and the evening becomes mine.. armed with needles, or hooks and Benders on the tele.

The remaining 21 days are stretching gloomily in front of me. I mean half-term is in 2 weeks.. what do I do then? And going through counselling weekly is really not the best time to give up your mental crutch… as you start to see the patterns in your behaviour amongst your new peers at uni and how you behaved at school which relates to life from birth which probably has something to do with how your Mum and Grandmother were treated by their parents who didn’t know how to communicate either because of something that happened to them in the first World War… you get the drift. I cried to and from uni on Friday – reeling from the wounds that were scratched open the night before.. listening to a song that let me drown in it’s sadness.

It’s ok.. I have kind of half pulled myself together. I do love the fact that I feel so much bouncier.. and I am slowly losing weight.. and I don’t have blood sugar crashes as often and I won’t deny it, Yoga with Adriene is definitely helping although she does say ‘baby’ a little too often for my liking.. (she does say other things that are quite funny and I love all the different practices she does.. anything from yoga for anxiety to anger to sore legs to hangovers to weightloss). And running is great, even if my right hamstring is in denial. Managed 29:12 minutes for my last Parkrun… snot bad…

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