When enough is enough

Today I reach another milestone: 300 days sober. Exactly 43 Saturdays ago, I didn't know it but I was having my last alcoholic drink. This was no final hurrah - I was drinking alone, hair of the dog, after having let a dear friend down. I hadn't drank for two weeks and I bought a lot of booze having planned a fun girly weekend. The reality was that I cannot be alone with this much alcohol. I am sorry to say I drank all of it by myself and the weekend I'd been looking forward to so much was cancelled. Obviously, I hadn't planned on doing this and I can remember thinking that I could drink all this wine and still cope the next day.

I am by nature a reliable person, so the fact I had upset people because I had got too drunk hurt to the core. And this isn't upsetting people because alcohol intake meant you did or said something foolish. This is upsetting people because alcohol intake meant you're not even going to be there at all.

Apologies weren't enough. Actions speak louder than words.

This wasn't the only catalyst. My drinking was manifesting beyond something I could control let alone cover up. I poured the rest of the wine down the sink, cleaned up (which is take down the recycling before the bottles can be counted) and had a bath. My body was going into shock a little and I started to get the shakes. I had consumed nothing but white wine for nearly 24 hours. I drank a cocktail of electrolyte water, Berocca and two strong painkillers, ready to sweat it out in bed. I knew the detox routine as I had done it before, many times. The fact that I was used to hurting myself is telling. How is this enjoyable? These are the signs of serious addiction.

I could no longer deny it, particularly when my husband came back from his weekend away. He knew immediately what had happened, and we had a frank conversation. The type of talk I may have shied away from before but I was ready to change. My drinking was making me miserable and I'd let down people I love, again. I was in the most vicious of cycles and exhibiting physical signs of withdrawal. Tearfully, I told my husband that I have a drink problem. It may seem like I was stating the obvious but it was the first time I'd ever said it out loud. This is the important bit, the fulcrum on which my life suddenly pivoted. It seems a cliche to say that admitting it is half the battle - but it is. There was no other way now. It was then I made the decision to go sober. This notion had previously been inconceivable but was alcohol giving me? Nothing. What was alcohol taking away from me? Everything. Time to eliminate alcohol from the equation.

I sit here 300 days on and this sobriety thing is a bit of alright. Everything is immeasurably better. My work life, my social life, my family life, my married life and my inner life have all improved. I admit there have been times in the last 10 months when I thought it would be nice to have a glass of wine here or a dram of whiskey there. However, I can hand on heart say that I do not miss drinking now. The thought of getting drunk or experiencing those types of hangovers fills me with dread, and I'm not just saying that. I've discovered how to have fun without booze and not be self-conscious, how to mark an occasion with no glass of bubbly, how to have a bad day without reaching for a beer and how to truly appreciate the moment without obliterating it later.

I am not proud about the last time I drank but I am proud of how far I have come since then.