What a difference

This time last year I was on holiday – the holiday during which I reached my “rock bottom” and admitted defeat.

I was thinking about this especially on Saturday. The equivalent Saturday last year was Easter Saturday and it was the second day of our holiday.  We were holidaying with some old friends and their children – something we have done for the past few years. It is always a big drinking event. I had started drinking at lunchtime on Good Friday and had continued for the rest of the day. I had blacked out and I couldn’t remember most of evening but I had to play along and pretend I could, trying as I went along to piece together what had happened. What I might have said or done. All the time with a sense of dread and shame and guilt. All the time wondering what time I would be able to have a drink, what excuse could I make to get an early start.

I did my best to look normal, wearing nice clothes and applying some make up but the reality was I looked shit. And the hangover ? – horrendous. A horrible feeling of headache and nausea and shakiness and an overwhelming exhaustion. The only thing which would make it  better would be a glass or two of cava.

It was raining. We had already booked for the children  to go on an outdoor adventure tree trail so we had to go. We stood around getting completely drenched and colder and colder. I was feeling irritable and tired. The children enjoyed the trail but not the rain. I was worrying about whether the accommodation I had booked was OK. I was worrying about when I could have another drink. And all the time trying to seem together and normal. Bright and breezy. It felt dreadful at the time but looking back it seems far worse. Hellish in fact.

This weekend was so different. The weather for a start was good. Bright and breezy ! I spent the day chilling out. My daughters had friends round and whereas in the past I would have been wanting them to go home so that I could have a drink, this time around I was happy to have them stay as long as they wanted. They made homemade pizza for supper and I didn’t worry about whether I had a sufficient variety of toppings or about them making a mess. Mr So and I had a lovely evening. Then, yesterday I woke with a wonderfully clear head even though our clocks went forward and we lost an hour. We had a day pottering in the garden and in the evening my girls gave me Mother’s Day cards and gifts and for the first time I didn’t feel guilty about receiving them. This year I know I am a good Mum. And that felt good.

What a difference a year makes. Xx

4 thoughts on “What a difference

  1. Loved reading this. I can totally relate to the emotions you describe, both from then and now. Congratulations! Being sober is the best feeling!

  2. Yeah! So happy for you. I quit at the same time. I am one year April 4th and I have been thinking of the things I was doing last year and how miserable I was and how badly I wanted to quit. I started out so shaky and unsure I could do this after previous attempts. What a difference a year makes! Congrats, congrats!

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