80 days sober

I am 80 days sober. 

Look at that face! Day 1 (L) to Day 80 (R)

On Friday, we had a refreshment pit stop half way through a long dog walk (DID YOU KNOW WE HAD A DOG?!) at a local pub and, as often occurs, somebody demanded to know what was in my glass with the comment, “Drinking again are we?” Erm, well yes, that’s what we do with liquids isn’t it? I’m not drinking alcohol, no. I am drinking Nanny State. Not that it has anything at all to do with you pal. 

I explained that I was at 78 days sober and was immediately asked, “When is it going to stop?” What? War in the Middle East? Donald Trumps? Famine? Child abuse? Oh no, something much more dramatic and world changing than all of those things. DRUMROLL PLEASE! When was I going to start succumbing to my addictions and fucking myself up again? Important questions.

I didn’t launch into my usual tirade. It’s fucking tiresome constantly having to explain that this isn’t a short term thing, it’s my fucking life. If I was in recovery from heroin addiction, nobody would ever ask me when I was going to have my next hit. Nobody would tell me that one little needle wouldn’t hurt. Or that my heroin addiction couldn’t possibly have been that bad.

Hubs on the other hand, had only heard this for the first time. And he got angry. Sadly (for me), when Hubs gets angry he still remains calm and diplomatic. As I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, he responded to my interrogator.

Hubs stated that it wasn’t going to end. He deflected the conversation away from me and talked about how much he was enjoying new activities instead of being in the pub all the time. He discussed how it had given him a new appreciation of great beer.

Then we turned back to our friends and enjoyed their company.

I beg of you, please stop asking people in recovery when they are going to stop being in recovery. It is just shitty. We know that it makes you feel uncomfortable. We know that for some of you it makes you question your own behaviours and that is difficult. We know that you feel judged.

We aren’t judging you. I am not judging you. I do not give a shit how much you choose to drink. All I care about in a pub these days is a good selection of alcohol free beer and cider (yes, more than just Becks Blue and a few different options please) and that the toilets don’t smell of shit. That’s it. I’m pretty easily pleased.

I don’t care how much you drink. I don’t care how you drunk you are. I’m not particularly bothered about you shouting in my face how happy you are. I definitely don’t give a shit about you repeating the same story to me for the 98th time. And I don’t need your opinions on me not drinking either.

Ooooh, I forgot one. Ask me if I’m pregnant one more fucking time and I swear to God I will serve a life sentence for your fucking murder.

I would like to say that I’m working on the rage but I’m really not.

Please don’t ask people in recovery how long they plan on being in recovery for. It is hard enough for us to share our stories already, without the additional commentary about our inevitable failure.

By all means, ask me how I’ve done it. Ask me how I’m feeling. Ask me how I’m doing. Ask me what life is like now compared to what life was like before. Ask me if it’s been really fucking hard.

Tell me your stories. Tell me about your experiences. Tell me about what you want to achieve. Tell me what my story means to you.

Let’s all focus on what connects us instead of what sets us apart.

Let’s chat.


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