booze: separating the idea from the reality

I still like the idea of booze. because booze is ALL ABOUT THE IDEA. it is the idea of the bubbles in the glass of prosecco, of the kick in the large gin and tonic, of the rolling mouthfeel of a chunky red. the idea of the celebration, the pick you up, the friendship at the bar of your local. the idea that it is your reward, your relaxation, and, overwhelmingly for me, your escape. and the idea that it is the best thing at delivering all those objectives. that nothing else will do.

whereas the reality is very different. I am feeling too cheerful today to enumerate all the realities of booze. let’s just say that it carefully isolates you from everything and everyone you love and then proceeds to kick you with steel capped boots as you curl up in a ball on the ground until you hate yourself. how about that on the back of a wine bottle?

separating the idea and the reality takes a hell of a lot of unpleasant experiences, followed by a shedload of self examination to really come to terms with and accept the distinction. who was it who did thatΒ Lisa at Sober Identity wrote a brilliant post several months back giving a list of sentences containing the word ‘drinking’?

eg: ‘drinking makes me happy. drinking makes me relaxed. drinking makes me fun’

and then replacing the word ‘drinking’ with the word ‘I’ ? so true and such a good mantra if you ever get a ‘why I should drink’ line stuck in your head. please let me know the source if you know it and if it was you, apologies!

today is my first birthday sober for probably thirty years. I am forty seven. good golly. how did that happen?Β forty seven and sober.

there will be cake. prettier than the one at the top of this post.

and definitely larger slices than these ones!

there will be dinner out with my husband. I’ll drive ;). there will be many happy moments. none of them requiring alcohol. there will not be booze. and not wanting booze, having separated the idea from the reality, is the best present ever.

my daughter has just given me a tiny owl she has made out of felt, “to remind you that now you are old enough to know better, Mummy.” Indeed I am, sweetheart. Indeed I am.

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