When I wrote last month about life shooting arrows, I had never heard of Pema Chodron (American Buddhist nun). I only heard of her the day after I filed my article. She writes about turning arrows into flowers:
If someone comes along and shoots an arrow into your heart, it’s fruitless to stand there and yell at the person. It would be much better to turn your attention to the fact that there’s an arrow in your heart ...
Was this synchronicity?
Life is not always going to go the way we had planned and if we can accept this fact then maybe we can handle the suffering when it comes. I have learned not to fight the times when an overbearing urge to take a drink hits me; not to question why can’t I have a drink, not to feel sorry for myself, but to acknowledge that it is real but that it will pass.
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Am I turning the arrow into a flower?
On a recent outing to the theatre the usher told us, “the bar is over there” as we walked in the door. Oh, really! Did they think we might miss it? It only took up the space of an entire wall. I have never walked into a theatre in France and been told “the bar is over there”.
Then to add petrol to the fire, it was announced over the tannoy that drinks could be taken into the auditorium as long as they were in plastic cups. I’m going to sound crotchety now, but that shouldn’t be allowed. Even when I was drinking, I didn’t like that drinks were allowed into the auditorium – that’s what intervals are for.
But the worse part of the evening was when we were leaving. The foyer was crowded with people drinking and discussing the play and my eyes caught a couple holding glasses of red wine. I had to stop myself from snatching one of those glasses out of their hands. It seemed crazy that I couldn’t have a glass of wine like most normal people.
We think if we find happiness, we will find gratitude. It is the other way round. But sometimes it can be impossible to feel grateful
But I can’t. Almost 11 months sober and the struggle is still there. It was a frightening moment and I thought I was going to lose my sobriety. I just sat with the feelings until they eventually went away.
So hard.
When I opened my laptop the next morning, Rob Lowe sprang up. He had just announced he was celebrating 33 years of sobriety. But the sentence I honed in on was that he said it is a constant battle. Even after 33 years? Honestly, it gave me hope. That might sound like an oxymoron. Happy that after 33 years I’ll still have cravings for a drink? But as there is no cure for alcohol dependency, I must be prepared that at no time can I claim: “I’m cured. I can drink safely.”
That would be the start of the downward spiral. So, to hear someone, sober for 33 years, say it’s a constant battle means that there is nothing wrong with me because I still, months after not drinking, crave a drink at certain times. How foolish I was thinking if I stopped drinking for three months, I would be cured.
There is a difference between wanting a glass of wine and the over-whelming urge to have one. Sitting around a table with friends enjoying myself, I can accept that I can’t have a glass of wine. It takes a little effort, but it can be done.
The situation I mentioned above, was the latter and thankfully they occur less frequently, but they are threatening. Often these over-whelming urges come when I’m already tired, stressed or sometimes just hungry but not always. They can occur anytime which means I have to be constantly on my guard. The voice in my head is loud and repetitive: “It’s just one drink. You’ll be fine. You haven’t had a drink in 11 months. Go on, you deserve it.”
I questioned that voice. “You deserve it?”
What?
To wake up one morning with horrible physical symptoms not to mention the mental anguish which, unlike the physical symptoms, would not be gone by lunchtime. Is that really what I deserve?
The reason I haven’t had a drink in 11 months is because I went into rehab and worked hard on my sobriety. Am I going to throw it all away for one drink? Luckily, there is another voice in my head saying: “There is no such thing as one drink with me. If I take one drink, I will want the bottle, one drink will not be enough. When was it ever?”
It can be confusing having two arguments going on in my head and so far, the right one has triumphed but I can’t presume that this will always be the case.
People who chose not to drink for reasons other than a dependency, never have to think about alcohol. It just doesn’t enter into their lives. Like those people I too, have chosen not to drink, but, unlike them, I have to think about alcohol and be on my guard. Alcohol will always be a part of my life whether I like it or not.
I would like to be open about my dependency on alcohol and not keep it a secret but our society is such that I would make people uncomfortable and thereby make me uncomfortable.
Awareness is my safest tool. Knowing that these cravings, although strong and real, will pass, and if I just wait, I can overcome this threat to my sobriety. But these moments are frightening because there is a fear that I may succumb.
It is always good to put things in perspective. Since I stopped drinking, I live more in the now than I ever did before
Without wanting to sound glib “happiness is a choice”. When I first heard this sentiment, I thought: “What balderdash.” But as the years have passed since I first heard it, I have come to realise it is actually true.
That’s not to say outside circumstances don’t have an influence on our state of happiness but it is in our minds where we experience happiness and it is the only thing over which we have control: “You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realise this and will find strength” – Marcus Aurelius.
We think if we find happiness, we will find gratitude. It is the other way round. But sometimes it can be impossible to feel grateful:
It’s pouring down.
You’ve lost your wallet.
You missed your flight.
You got clamped (I actually did).
The dog ate your homework ... okay I’ll stop now.
But if you stop and think for a minute:
Is it the worst thing in the world to be raining? Rain fills our reservoirs without which we wouldn’t have running water in our homes. It’s a pain to lose your wallet but is it worth ruining the rest of your day, week, life, worth it? Missing a flight is a big disappointment but is it the last plane to leave the airport? Be grateful you’re not in Saigon in April 1975, when the last plane really was the last plane.
No opportunity to come back tomorrow and get another flight. Ah, getting clamped. When the clamper came to release my car after a quarter of an hour I was so grateful I hadn’t had to wait the possible two hours that I had been told might be the case. And as for the dog eating my homework, it was probably all it was good for.
It is always good to put things in perspective.
Since I stopped drinking, I live more in the now than I ever did before and it is a good place to be. It was sort of forced on me because the thought of never enjoying a glass of red wine again was too much to bear. And as Mick Jagger sings: “You can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.”
I was invited to a demonstration of a food appliance which does everything. It is so versatile it even takes the dog for a walk. Ha ha. But it saves you so much time, you can take the dog out for several walks. It was all going swimmingly when I noticed a bottle of white wine being poured into the bowl. Alarm bells went off. I suppose I could have said “I have a dependency on alcohol and I am nervous about eating food which has been cooked in alcohol.”
But my past experiences have shown me how this conversation would have gone: “Oh, don’t worry, alcohol evaporates when cooked. There’s nothing to fear. It won’t make you want to have a glass of wine.”
Really? How do they know when I don’t know? Regardless, it leaves a taste of alcohol, however subtle and I can’t take the risk. It is a trigger to avoid not a trigger to manage. There were other foods being prepared as well and I just partook of those but it was an awkward moment. Another one.
Summer evenings and white wine go together. Or they used to. The recent beautiful weather, although very welcome, came with its own challenges. Red wine was my partiality, but a glass of white wine was the perfect accompaniment while sitting in the garden as evening approached. The shadows, created by the dipping of the sun below the horizon, produce a dappling effect on the trees and the flowers, showing nature at its best. And as the heat meets the cold, chilled glass, droplets of glistening water spill down the glass.
Drinking a glass of red wine at six o’clock on a winter’s evening on your own is suspect.
Drinking a glass of white wine at six o’clock on a summer’s evening on your own is not.
Think about it.
It’s six o’clock on a November evening and you’re sitting alone in your kitchen with a glass of wine when your neighbour drops in. She sees the glass of wine and you can see the look of surprise on her face. You say nothing.
It’s six o’clock on a June evening and you’re sitting alone in your garden with a glass of white wine when your neighbour drops in. She sees the glass of wine and you immediately offer her a glass which she readily accepts. The season and the colour of the wine have changed the optics.
I am going on a retreat. I wanted to go on a retreat many times over the years, but my alcohol dependency stopped me. How could I manage without my wine? I couldn’t. This retreat is for four days and I found it quite by accident. There is meditation and yoga which you’d expect but what I wasn’t expecting was that wine is served at dinner. How ironic.
All those retreats I wanted to go on in the past but couldn’t and now here was one which offered wine. It was almost a deal breaker. It is a local organic wine and I suppose the retreatants are not supposed to drink the cellar dry. So, it would have been embarrassing as, if I were still drinking, I would not have been able to stop at the respectable one or two glasses.
I would prefer that there was no wine but I am not going to let it stop me.
I will manage.
I hope.
Read
- Part 1: I am not an alcoholic
- Part 2: I told myself I’d stop at three
- Part 3: Someone drank hand sanitiser
- Part 4: I’ve stopped drinking nine bottles
- Part 5: A man told me I wasn’t honest
- Part 6: Will you regret taking this drink?
- Part 7: My eye is stuck on the wine
- Part 8: Could the floor swallow me?
- Part 9: Should I try AA again?
- Part 10: Combating life’s little horrors
- Part 11: Go on, you deserve it
- Part 12: Why I choose to write anonymously