Things I've Never Done Sober

One of the most terrifying things about facing a new life of sobriety, is learning to do things that you've never done sober.  I'm not just talking about going to parties, or attending celebrations while sober.  I mean there are actual, real life rites of passage that, I have realised, I have never been sober for.  

• I've never been on a first date sober.  You're probably thinking "hang on, what about when you were a teenager?"  Yeah, let's get something straight.  I was a nerd in high school.  To be a smart, confident fifteen year old girl is, apparently, not particularly attractive to the kind of fifteen year old boys that take you on dates.  Or at least it wasn't back in the 1990s.  So I used to drink and act dumb, and then boys were interested. Cue vicious cycle that leads to me being thirty-something and always getting drunk before/during first dates.
• I've never intentionally flirted with a guy I like sober. I'm a god-awful flirt. You know that "I will seduce you with my awkwardness" meme? It could have been written about me. I've probably accidentally flirted with guys when sober, and been totally and completely unaware of it. But if I like a guy I've always needed some booze to loosen me up enough to fake some sort of confidence and flirt with him.
• As far as sex... Well, I HAVE had sex sober. But I've never been sober the first time I've slept with someone. The idea of being completely sober and having sex with someone for the first time makes me feel terrified. And a little bit queasy.
• I've also never had any of those "important conversations" sober. I mean relationship conversations. I am hugely uncomfortable with emotions, vulnerability, feelings... Hence the whole using alcohol to mask these issues. Anyway, whenever I've had to have one of those "what is this, where do you see it going, etc" conversations, I've gotten tanked. To think I might have to have emotional conversations where I lay all my vulnerabilities out in front of someone... honestly, I could vomit thinking about it.

The thing is, I can do similar things in my professional life without a drink. I spend my days meeting new, important people and convincing them to continue investing in the organisation I work for. I walk into high powered meetings and sell myself and my employer on a regular basis to incredibly high powered individuals and companies. I discuss delicate circumstances and issues with what I hope is finesse and confidence. But if it's about me, well forget it. I panic and clam up, or drink and say the wrong thing, or talk to the point of insanity about anything else to avoid the possibility of getting hurt or being exposed and defenceless.

And the idea that I'm going to have to do this forever and ever more scares me more than the idea of not having a beer again.

That Word

When you tell people that you're no longer drinking, there's a word that you must avoid.  At all costs.  A word that makes people shuffle awkwardly.  A word that conjures images you don't want associated with you.  A word that is usually apt but makes everyone uncomfortable.

Alcoholic.

You see, people don't mind if you've stopped drinking for any other reason ever.  If you're detoxing, that's fine.  If you're settling a bet or competing in a challenge, that's okay.  Even if it's for health reasons, that's perfectly acceptable (at least, until you're better and therefore able to drink again).  But if you even mention the idea of a lack of control, or some sort of problem, or hint at the word alcoholic... well, it's a fun way to watch a  conversation stop abruptly.

People generally have one of two reactions to any of these ideas:-

1. They imply that, to be in my early 30s and mention alcoholism / lack of control means I am a drama queen / seeking attention / have spent too much time watching Oprah.  It's the hint of condescension in their response that usually gives it away.  The amused and patronising inflection at the end of their sentences "Oh, you felt like you were sliding towards alcoholism, did you?  Maybe you should spend less time talking about your own problems -there's real problems in the world".  They don't say it with their words, but with their eyes.  Their tone.  With the way they discount any of my concerns about alcohol and suddenly talk to me like a child.
2. They get defensive.  As if, by stating that I felt like I was losing control over my own drinking, I'm challenging their drinking practices.  They want to tell me how they can stop drinking at any time.  How they once went a week / a month / however long without drinking and they were fine with that goddammit.  These claims are usually punctuated by angry sips on their own drink. 

There's not just a stigma.  There's a complete fear of alcohol problems.  Unless you're a tortured artist (I'm not), or you come from some sort of broken background (I don't), or you have obvious character faults (I wouldn't say obvious) then having a problem with alcohol seems to rock everyone's boats a little bit too much.  People would be happy if I were some sort of shut-in modern artist from a dysfunctional family.  Then there would be a nice, neat reason.  Everyone could look at me, ascribe the simplest reason for my problem, and go back to their beers, happy in their own personal knowledge that it couldn't happen to them.  But as a mid-30s, well educated professional from your average, suburban nuclear family, my alcohol problem makes people uncomfortable.  So it's minimised, trivialised, understated. 

This makes everyone feel better.  Well, everyone except me.

Starting Sober

The first week of new found sobriety is the easiest.  You're committed.  You're willing to overlook how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel.  You want to believe that the last drink really was the last one. 

So you start cautiously.  You avoid Friday night drinks with friends.  Because, you know, the drinks.  But you want it to be over.  So you don't mind that your social life is curtailed.  Because you're determined.  The first week is just about locking yourself in for the ride.

It's as the time passes that sobriety gets harder.  When you start going back out.  When you start going to places where there are drinks.  When you start going back to your old life, except this time your old life sans alcohol.  That's where life gets tricky.  When the sobriety starts to get harder.  When the desire for a drink stops being a tiny, little niggle and turns back into an overwhelming desire.

That's what this blog is.  One person's attempt to get through that overwhelming desire on a day by day, night by night, event by event basis.

It's time to neck up, bitches.  Make mine a soda water.