31 Weeks of Sobriety
The Grinch- Why I would drink at family events and how I'm going to tackle these challenges this Silly Season.
Today I have been Sober for 31 weeks. 217 days.
I passed the seven months mark in the week too. I didn’t realise until the day after. So that’s good?
Sobriety
Last week I spoke a lot about sobriety and some struggles I had been facing around dreams and cravings. I’m happy to report that this week has been nowhere near as bad. I haven’t had another of those fucking drinking or drug-using dreams. Thank Christ. I did have a few moments though where I felt like it would be nice to have a drink. I also had a couple more of those moments where for a split second I thought to myself, “far out, today would be a cracker of a day to have a drink”. I also had a couple of those realisations that I (hopefully) won’t ever drink again and that I may never have one of those euphoric feelings that only drugs and alcohol can give me. Slowly though, I think I’m beginning to accept this and I think that each time it happens it packs a little bit less punch. Each and every week I understand more and more what David Goggins means by callusing your mind. Every time I don’t cave into that feeling, I am stronger for it and more resilient against it.
The Grinch
I’ve never truly grasped the concept of events like Christmas and Birthdays. The older I get, the more apathetic I feel toward them. As a kid, my family used to call me “Happy, Smiling Samuel” because of my propensity to be in a grumpy or dower mood. It was brushed off as “just the way I was”, particularly at events like family gatherings. I was the kid who never, ever wanted his photo taken. I don’t know why, but it fucking terrified me. In every single family photo we have, you can see on my face that I have been crying beforehand. I just fuckin’ hated it, and I still don’t like it> Maybe it’s the low self-esteem or fear of judgment? All I know is I fucking hated it.
These days if a kid is expressing a particular emotion consistently over time, it would prompt some further investigation. Maybe a trip to a GP and on to a child psychologist. But back then, it was just the way I was, supposedly. I don’t know why, but it never occurred to anyone that maybe there was a reason behind the way I was behaving. Maybe I had some deeper issues and I wasn’t being an asshole for the fuck of it. I was genuinely scared and upset, but I got spoken to and treated as though I was intentionally misbehaving, for no good reason, further ingraining in my belief system that emotions didn’t matter and weren’t important. I didn’t know how to express them properly, so they manifested in this way. As a child I couldn’t say to my parents “look guys, I understand you want a lovely photo of us as a family, but I need you guys to understand that this is very difficult for me. I hate the idea of having my photo taken, particuklarly in this type of setting. I’m not doing this to be an asshole, I am just very self-conscious. Rather than having the shits at me about this, I would very much appreciate you having some understand and empathy, and trying to support me through this experience rather than being mad at me for feeling this way”. My family didn’t and couldn’t have known this, they thought I was just being a shit, they were ashamed and embarrassed because I was the only kid at the gathering throwing a tantrum because I didn’t want my photo taken.
I just kind of always had a mild case of the shits in these environments. I think on reflection it’s easy to see that I wasn’t comfortable in them and it manifested as this mild, underlying hum of irritability.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I understand that that’s what these occasions are truly about. Presents and shit are cool but to me, the underlying meaning of celebrating Christmas, particularly in an agnostic/atheist family, is to spend time with those who mean the most to you without the stressors of work or study bashing around in our melons. It’s a time when we feel like we can be truly present, free from the distraction of day-to-day life. I get it. I think it’s great.
For me though, I have never felt truly comfortable in these environments. They make me anxious. It’s difficult to explain, but at times I feel awkward in the company of my own fucking family. It’s not their fault. It’s not mine either. It just is what it is. But it hinders my ability to enjoy the time I spend with them. I’ll sit in a corner, catch up with a select few people I feel mildly comfortable with and oftentimes forget everyone else. I want to talk to everyone. I want to catch up with them all. I’m just too fuckin’ scared to speak to them, even if I spoke to them last time. I usually reflect days later and feel like an idiot. I feel like I have missed an opportunity. Wasted a chance to have a genuine experience with people I care about a lot but don’t often get to see. It’s just that sometimes I’d sort of, rather be at home. Not because I didn’t want to be with or around anyone in particular. I just sort of would rather be at home sometimes.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but often I’ll be at a family gathering and I’ll just feel awkward. Out of place. Uncomfortable. Like pressure to be a certain way. I’ll feel too shy to go and say hello to someone I have known all my life. Then I’ll get stressed because I will be worried that they might think I’m rude. I’ve been told by friends that when they first met me they thought I was arrogant because I wouldn’t talk to them when we first crossed paths. It’s not arrogance though. It’s literally the direct opposite. I have such low self-confidence that I don’t have the courage to approach someone and start a conversation. I always prefer when someone else initiates a conversation, even if it’s someone I already know and like.
The thing that makes me feel like more of an idiot is that when the ice is broken, I realise that everything is fine and my wall comes crumbling down. Why the fuck was I so worried about this? My dear old Aunty asking me about how life is going at the coast. Or dad’s senile old uncle having a chat with me thinking I was my brother the whole time and me playing along because I can’t be bothered putting myself through the torture of explaining to a geriatric that I am not who they think I am, only for them to entirely forget the conversation half an hour later. I never know how I should greet someone. Is it a handshake? do we hug? Often I think people can sense that I’m unsure and in turn, it has that same effect on them. Now I feel like a dick because I’ve made someone else feel as awkward as I do. My back just curls up and I kind of don’t want to be touched.
I fucking hate the entry and exit too. I like to sneak in the side door. There have been times when I have parked out the front of a house and waited for someone else to arrive so at least I could walk in with someone else. Try to hide a little bit. At least when we walk in as a group the attention will be divided among each person and solely focused on me. When I leave, I try to do the old smoke bomb. Don’t say goodbye to a single person. Then text a couple of people and say, oh sorry, I had to go.
I know it’s ridiculous. I know that no one is a monster. They are good, genuine people. They love me and care about me. My logical brain knows all of this. Just sometimes my emotional brain turns up out of nowhere and takes charge. It feels so fucking ridiculously stupid to let such an insignificant thing have such an impact on me. What makes it worse is I start to get conscious of how ridiculous I am being, then I think about how ridiculous I am being even more and it makes it worse.
I think ultimately it comes down to my ADHD. As soon as I find myself in a slightly uncomfortable or unfamiliar situation, I just want to flee, but I can’t. So I freeze. It’s very important to be aware of these things. To understand why they might be happening. But that’s the easy part. Doing something about it is a whole lot harder and when sitting around in a social setting, you don’t have time to do hours and hours of psychology appointments. So what do you do?
The solution was easy. The solution was literally, a solution. An amber-coloured solution. Alcohol, guys, it was alcohol. I would just drink and drink and drink until I felt comfortable enough to engage with people. Oftentimes I would wind up shitfaced and make a prick of myself. Dad telling me to quiet down. Me replying that I’m just trying to have fun. Like most good drunks, I’d wake up the next day feeling like I’d ruined everything, but never had the courage to apologise or do anything to undo any damage I had caused. I would be too embarrassed.
Now that I’m sober and sobriety is very important to me, I’m feeling a little uneasy about how I’m going to navigate certain events this coming festive season. My great internet friend Paul (hey mate) who has been sober for over two years now warned me that the first festive season could be a challenge and I don’t know if that comment has made me overly cautious or if I’m being suitably cautious, either way, it’s a feeling I’m experiencing and it needs acknowledging.
My parents throw a massive Christmas party on the last Saturday of November every year. It’s a great day. They have it in November intentionally because they invite all the extended family and it’s easier for everyone to make it in November than it is in December. Sound logic. It’s one of those things where everyone makes that same hilarious joke when they leave, “well, we’re off, but we had a great time, see you all again in a year’s time”. It’s not funny, but it’s pretty accurate and everyone is fine with that. It’s nice. This Saturday is the last Saturday in November. It has kind of snuck up on me. Like most, I’ve been busy, my brain is always busy. It was one of those things that I’ve been perfectly aware of but sort of didn’t realise just how close it was.
This time around, if and when these feelings of anxiety and discomfort present themselves, I’m not going to have that special, favourite blanket to protect me. I’m not going to be able to drink enough to be interested in what Aunty Beryl had for lunch at the RSL last Tuesday. Or to talk to an old uncle about why he likes his new car so much more than his old car. Mate, I don’t give a shit, I’m sorry.
I don’t want to be a prick, I don’t think I am a prick. Ultimately, I feel misunderstood. I always have. It just manifests in shitty ways sometimes. I never got drunk at things like this with the intention of annoying, embarrassing, or disappointing people. I did it because I felt uncomfortable. Once I was drunk I would carry on because I just wanted people to like me. I wanted people to think I was funny. Anything to feel like someone appreciated my being there.
The dumbest part of it all is that they already did appreciate that I was there. It was the lead-up to that point where I had gotten into this spiral of anxiety and self-doubt where I had convinced myself that maybe these people didn’t like me. Maybe they would like me if I loosened up a bit, and show them who I really am, only to probably take it too far. Doing things like making fun of other people for my own benefit. Make a joke about someone, people laugh, and I feel good. Not realising I was being a fucking prick to one person in the group. Even if they were laughing externally, I don’t know that they actually enjoyed the joke. Essentially I was risking making others feel like shit in front of people they cared about, to make myself feel better about myself. All because of some shit that I had made up in my head.
I don’t think it’s fair for me to try to excuse behaviour like that by saying “oh but I was anxious, I just wanted to be liked, I just wanted to feel comfortable”. While all of that might be true, it’s not acceptable for me to negatively impact someone else’s experience because I don’t have my shit together.
Anyway, that won’t be a problem this time and although I don’t think anyone will say it to me, I think there might be a few people secretly happy that I won’t be drinking this Saturday. I’m just going to have to deal with it by myself.
As I sit here I’m trying to think of things I can do beforehand or things I can say to myself at the moment when I feel awkward or anxious in an effort to prevent these feelings from arising.
I’m fortunate now that I have my son. I almost feel bad for it, like I’m using him, but lately, when I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, I just go and grab the big fella and spend time with him. I spend time with him anyway, but he is by far the best tool I have found to ground me and give me perspective. I wish I could take him everywhere I go. No matter the stimulus or stressors, when I spend time with him, nothing else in the entire world matters. So I might be spending a fair whack of time with him on Saturday
.
I also had my last psych appointment for the year yesterday, which went well. I don’t have another one until the start of February which is a little bit frightening. However, she said something that was really short, quick, and easy that stuck with me that I think I’m going to be able to use a lot moving forward.
We were talking about feelings and thoughts and how they come and go. She said it’s not so much about processing them, it’s about living with them. Controlling how much impact I allow them to have on me at the time. After all, they are only thoughts or feelings. They don’t physically exist. They can’t punch me in the mouth or kick me in the dick. She said that if we try to eliminate them completely, we wind up ignoring them. That’s when they fester in the back of our minds and come back with a vengeance.
She told me “don’t let the feeling affect the experience”. I guess, like all things, this is open to interpretation. So because I’m a grown-up, I can do what I want and I like to fucking swear, I’m choosing to interpret it like this. If on Saturday I get these feelings of anxiousness, low self-worth, or awkwardness, I’m not going to be a coward (I had typed “Bitch” there then rewrote it, progress
) about it. I'm not going to allow them to influence the precious time I spend with these people who mean so much to me, only to regret it later. I'm going to tell them to fuck off for now and play out the back. They can stay, they can do whatever they like, but while ever they're trying to impact the quality of the time I am having with my family, I'll pay them no mind. I'M NOT GOING TO ALLOW THE FEELING OR THOUGHT TO IMPACT THE EXPERIENCE.Wish me, fuckin, luck.
Movember
Last week I wrote about Why I Committed to a 60k Run on 16 Days’ Notice so I won’t go too deeply into it here.
Movember now offers more ways to raise money for prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and men’s mental health than just growing a mo. I have a double chin, so I ain’t shaving.
60 men die every hour around the world by suicide.
Six Australian men die every day by suicide.
So I am going to (try to) run 60k on Saturday the 26th of November, the morning of my parent’s big flash Christmas do, maybe I’ll be too fucked to know what’s going on by that afternoon anyway and the above will be irrelevant. I’ll be doing 10 laps of the
course in Kingston. Hoping to start before 4 am to avoid running too many hours in the sun. I’m sure the sober guy who’s too tired to talk to anyone about life at the coast or how the big fella is going will be the life of the party, but fuck ‘em. This shit is important.If anyone is interested in donating to a very important cause click here. Any donation big or small is hugely appreciated and will go towards saving lives. Movember donates all proceeds to charities such as The Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia, Livestrong, and Beyond Blue who all do amazing work.
Don’t forget to follow me on Instagram and Twitter @sbrngthghts
Guys, please, if anyone is struggling in any way, make someone aware of it. Speak to a friend, family, loved one, stranger, postman, uber eats driver, or me, just talk to someone.
Lifeline Ph: 13 11 14
Alcoholics Anonymous Ph: 1300 222 222
NSW Mental Health Line Ph: 1800 011 511
Suicide Call Back Service Ph: 1300 659 467
Mensline Australia Ph: 1300 78 99 78
Kids Helpline Ph: 1800 55 1800
Great read mate but this "I fucking hate the entry and exit too. I like to sneak in the side door" makes you side like Richie McCaw lol.
And a great definition of Christmas.