I Am Not an Alcoholic: ‘In this beautiful weather what harm could a chilled glass of wine do?’

The weather has been gorgeous. And I don’t want to say anything negative about it. I love waking up to blue skies and sun warm enough to enjoy breakfast, en plein air.

I can’t imagine billionaires on their yachts could be more tranquil than I am sitting in my sunny garden in the early morning, listening to the birds and sipping coffee. They would all be too concerned about the Dow Jones or the London Stock Exchange and trying to keep tabs on their investments, not to mention trolling through reams of paper to make sure they don’t lose out on the next big deal.

Wearing the lightest of clothes, bare limbs exposed, there is a freedom that one doesn’t have with heavy knitwear jumpers and thick opaque tights (black or navy!)

It makes me feel I’m on holiday and that is the problem. I behave as if, when I return to my bedroom after breakfast, the bed will be made and the bathroom cleaned. And when I discover, to my horror, that it is not, I disappear into the garden pretending I didn’t see it. As for cooking, hard-boiling a couple of eggs and putting them on a plate with a sliced tomato topped with a drizzle of olive oil suffices as a meal.

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It seems ironic that, unless the sun shines, we don’t see dust, and no one wants to dust when the sun is beckoning. So, when the sun disappears behind a cloud, so does the dust, only to be revealed when the sun reappears, this time a few centimetres thicker.

If readers deduce from this that I wouldn’t win housekeeper of the year, they would be right.

I went to the beach a couple of times and getting into the sea was not the usual ordeal. One toe testing the water only to be swiftly removed to the sound of a squeal. Then, feeling brave, trying again until eventually you find yourself with water up to your waist and wondering do I proceed and get down into the water or turn around and get out to face the admonishments of your friends who have been swimming for the past half an hour while you’ve been inching your way in to a cacophony of screams. But this time the water wasn’t the freezing temperature I was expecting. And when I got out, I didn’t have to swaddle myself in towels until I resembled a mummy, nor try to chew a ginger biscuit with chattering teeth.

I reached my third anniversary of sobriety last month.

There were no celebratory festivities. In fact, no one knew. Nor did I want anyone to remember.

One might imagine that achieving three years of sobriety, one could relax a little: “Gosh, I haven’t had a drink in three years, of course, it would be all right in this beautiful holiday weather to have a nice, chilled glass of wine. What harm could it do?”

Hmm. Really?

No. That is what Dolores wants me to believe. The truth is, I could relapse.

Why? I don’t know.

When? I don’t know.

Where? I don’t know.

I do know that the desire for a drink could come when I am least expecting it and it could overwhelm me and I may not be strong enough to resist it.

So, no celebration for three years of sobriety.

Life gives us many challenges. No one escapes. For me, I think that, rather than events, it is people who challenge me the most. When I say people, I mean friends who let you down. Throughout my life, I’ve learned not to rely too heavily on anyone. Because I am a reliable person, I expect everyone to be like me. Ha! I’m also sincere (I know, talk about blowing your own trumpet!). But regular readers will know what an awful person I can be, too. Remember the washing machine door? My temper was terrible, beyond terrible and it took me years to learn not to react. The lies I had to tell to explain why things got broken or how that hole got in that wall? How embarrassing.

But, while maintaining my sobriety may not be a certainty, I can be certain that nothing or no one will ever make me act uncontrollably again. And I am so grateful for that. If it’s the only lesson I learn from this life, it is one of which I can be proud.

I got a little sidetracked there.

They say the things that annoy you in someone else are the very same traits/faults you find in yourself. I am not sure this is true. I find it disappointing when people are unreliable or insincere. So, when someone says they’ll do something, I’m expecting them to do it and, when they don’t, I find it hard. And when they repeatedly say things on which they fail to follow through, that is difficult for me. But instead of getting angry and saying horrible things about them to myself or worse, to others, I try to put myself in their shoes and tell myself, “they’re not trying to deliberately destroy my day, they mean what they say when they say it but unfortunately when, out of sight, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud, so do I”.

Every social occasion is a double-edged sword. I look forward to it, but I am also apprehensive because I know there will be wine and I must deal with that. An invitation to a recent dinner party came with a silent warning. I was struggling with life, as you do, and I knew the evening was going to be a challenge. I thought I was prepared. I had my mantra silently repeating itself on a loop in my head.

It’s not the best attitude to adopt on an evening out; get it over with and just think how good you’ll feel in the morning. Where’s the anticipation of looking forward to spending time with friends and dressing up for the occasion?

I was feeling slightly cranky when I looked down and read what was written on my coaster: “Make sure Mummy’s glass is never empty.”

Was this some kind of a joke?

I had to smile. As I said before, I don’t have a life-threatening disease or a life-changing condition. I can’t have a glass of wine. Get over it.

One evening, I went to a concert where the last thing I expected to see on stage was a glass of red wine. At first, I thought it was a prop necessary to create an atmosphere, but no, the singer reached for this glass after each song. I found that hard. It distracted me and I didn’t like it. Instead of enjoying the music, I was battling with an annoying question in my head.

Why can’t I have a drink?

It’s not just the temptation that’s difficult; it’s how it makes me feel. Different from everyone else. Who else in the audience had their eye on the glass of wine all evening?

In the past, I always struggled with not feeling good enough and I believe that I projected that belief on to others. If I had no respect for myself, how could anyone else have? In achieving sobriety, I discovered that I liked myself. It was a nice thing to discover. But it is difficult, if not impossible, for people to change an opinion once formed. So, because I’ve changed, there are some whose opinion of me remains rigid. Though they may view themselves as better than me, I don’t. They just had a better start in life.

I find myself thinking of successful people who have accomplished a lot in their lives and wondering how they view themselves when they’re alone with their thoughts. While arrogance is not a requirement for success, some successful people did not get the memo. I believe the difference between a happy childhood and an unhappy childhood is that those in the former category do not need to prove themselves, and the latter spend their lives continually trying to do so.

A happy childhood cannot be overestimated, yet the role of a parent is very much underestimated. There are courses for just about everything nowadays, but at the end of a parenting course, there is no exam. And nobody thinks of doing a parenting course until they become a parent. For most people, becoming a parent is the easiest thing in the world. It shouldn’t be. If it were harder, we might all be better at it.

And you, of tender years,

Can’t know the fears

That your elders grew by

These lyrics from the song, Teach your Children Well, by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, evoke feelings of bittersweet sadness. No one deliberately wants to be a bad parent, but it happens.

I am often amused when a friend, forgetting that I don’t drink, asks, “red or white”? I look at her bemused until the penny drops. To see her face is funny. I think she fears that by mentioning alcohol to me, she has brought the idea into my head and I might start drinking again. All because of her.

But the sad truth is, alcohol is never far from my mind. That is because I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t have a glass, no matter how tempting it is, nor how loud Dolores’s voice might get.

I read a report from the Drinks Industry Group of Ireland that alcohol consumption is down since 2022.

I thought, surely, that’s not all down to me? Ha ha!