A bientot

I’ve been trying, and failing, to find time to update my blog of late. Since starting it in April, things have changed so dramatically for me and I no longer have the spare time that I had back then.

I can’t possibly underestimate now just how many hours of ‘work’ were at my disposal. The business had been slowing down from October 2008 and the partners had done nothing to resurrect it. The blog was clearly a way to fill my time and, in turn, exercise some demons. What it now tells me, though, is that my life was far from fulfilled if I really did have hours every day to witter on extensively about me, me, me. A cartoon in Private Eye brought this sharply into focus the other week, when it showed an insect with a 24 hour lifespan blogging whilst its mate implored it to spend some of it living not just writing!!!

Even when I wasn’t working in August and September, I was too busy making the most of my time off baking, reading, catching up with friends and other such pleasures to spend it on the blog.

Basically, the blog served a purpose and got me through those first tricky 6 months of sobriety. I am not about to see that go the same way as the blog, but I am mindful that a rarely updated one is frustrating for the reader and clearly of little consequence to me if I can leave it so long. I’ve also stopped my acupuncture as I would rather put the things Jessica has taught me into practice than spend £45 a session contemplating my navel. I know it’s trite, but actions speak louder than words so maybe I just want to get on with living and spend less time agonising and philosophising.

My new job is 9 to 5.30 (for the first time in my life ever) and I know I could fit in blogging if I wanted to, but I don’t. I went for a run last night and remembered how effectively that cleared my head and would rather take time out of my busy schedule to do that than sit in front of a PC of an evening.

The next few months are going be demanding. K’s dad died last week and we will have his funeral on Thursday, then our postponed wedding date and my second Xmas without my family to get through. By end January decisions will be made about whether I stay in this role or not (I have a 3 month fixed term contract so that both parties can make their mind up), K will be started a new job and I will have to think about selling my flat. It’s all go, really, so I shall retire from this for now. Who knows, maybe I will come back to it one day but for now self-publication isn’t high on my list of priorities. Each time I look at Facebook, read about folk on Twitter or check the news, I get more and more incensed by everyone’s desire to flaunt themselves. So little is private these days so I am keen to join the other folk who don’t think laying their life out on a plate for all to see is necessarily food for the soul.

I shall spend the next 6 months not drinking without having to shout it from the rooftops and will communicate with my nearest and dearest on a one-to-one basis and hopefully more often!!!
X

C'est moi - de nouveau!

So, no sooner had I promised to get blogging regularly again than I go awol for a couple of weeks! I do, however have my excuses, honest guv!

I have been crazy busy with a new job, my old job, interviews and a wee adjustment to my wedding plans, as well as trying to get my social life back to some sort of normality and catching up with friends.

First, the wedding, which I have been agonising about for a month or so. When K and I planned the date last year, neither of us could have possibly foreseen the events that followed and when we reached the milestone of just 2 months to go, we had a real heart-to-heart on the subject. Basically, there were numerous reasons to postpone including financial (we'd already pared it down to the minimum which isn't really how a wedding should be), postponing the honeymoon until we were both in full time, long term paid employ and offloading the Depeche Mode tickets in Glasgow on e-bay. But the major issue for me was over guests. K's dad is very ill now but still with us. No-one can predict if he will still be with us come December, but the last thing we wanted was to be getting married if he was and seriously ill. In addition, my brother has agreed to meet with me and K and I was hoping this would happen before the wedding so that he could come. Time was an issue for both him and us, so it was looking very unlikely that this would happen. With a heavy heart I suggested to K that we wait until next year and by then, with a bit of luck on our side, things would be a lot more settled. I can't honestly say that I am happy about it, as that would be perverse, given that it is one of the few things that I had to look forward to this year. What I am relieved about is getting the stress and worry off my shoulders when, right now, I have other stuff to think about. Also, this way, I have plenty of time to plan the wedding exactly as I want so that I can walk down the aisle without a heavy heart. Knowing K's dad was ill or that my brother wasn't there would have saddened me, so whilst nothing is ever perfect I really hope the rescheduled day will be less angst-ridden.

Work has gone nuclear since I last wrote. I got a call to go do some 'emergency' temping which was a relief as we were beginning to stress about the next month's finances and I was happy to take whatever was on offer. To be perfectly honest, I had very low expectations, as it was a private equity firm (an industry I have worked in before and disliked intensely) but I figured that I was capable of the role and could happily do it for the short term. I was also still waiting to hear about an interview for the role of school business manager that I'd seen an agency about a few weeks ago, so needed something to keep me busy in the meantime. Finally, it turned out that the company was directly across the road from my old job on Pall Mall, so I could skip out of there at 5.30 and pop over to see my old colleagues and do the months end accounts as I'd promised I would. I had an interview for a media company lined up too, so all seemed to be moving in the right track nd the temp work would keep the wolf from the door. What I didn't reckon on was how much I would enjoy it and had certainly not factored in wanting to stay!!!! I'd been there 3 days when HR approached me about throwing my hat into the permanent ring. My new boss, D, is larger than life in many ways and an exceptionally wealthy man. To say that I dismissed his lifestyle as vulgar at the outset is an understatement. I had no idea that under the tough exterior was a gentleman, nor that everyone attending the shoots that I was organising would be so charming. The job is about 85% personal and involves liaising with his estate in Scotland, in a part of Brechin that I adore. In effect I have combined country with city in an exceptionally pleasant job!!!

Basicallly, next week I have the school interview on Thursday and the current role (formal interview) on Friday so I will report back when I have made some decisions. My old colleagues would love me to be over the road too and have been frantically promoting the benefits of the temp role, but my heart still wants to work for something 'worthwhile'. That said, my new colleagues have been refreshingly friendly and the hours are very manageable. What's not to like, eh?

So where does this leave my sobriety? How has it fared? Hmmmm, not so good actually. That is not to say that I have had a drink, I can honestly say that not a jot of alcohol has passed my lips, but as the 6 month stage draws near I have been very, very tempted. Perhaps it is realisation that this is only HALF way (yip, another 6 months to go) but also the new environment I am in has given me food for thought. Firstly, the guy I work for would probably dismiss all my plus points if he discovered I was teetotal, as one aspect of the job is bidding on vintage wine! He is a true buff, so would probably struggle to believe that I could be 'his' assistant and still be dry. Not that I have to tell him and certainly won't be doing so, but I have told my colleagues as they wanted me to join them for a drink last week and I thought it best to nail my colours to the mast when I did. That's when the idea of NOT telling them came into my mind. You see they would know noone in my current life and I could sneak off for a drink with them and noone would be any the wiser. It was, I hasten to add, a fleeting thought, but it was there all the same, the idea of compartmentalising my life in to those who know and those who don't. Like leaving a fag in the packet when you give up, to smoke when you are on your own.

What concerned me was not that I thought about it, dismissed it and went out with them anyway, happy to stick to fizzy water, but that the whole discussion around my sobriety popped up again (not helped by going to a bar in Mayfair that I was last in when I was horribly, horribly drunk!!!!)

The more I talked, the more I explained, the more the desire to go sod it crept in. I have fought hard all week to remind myself why I am not drinking and have had what I consider to be my first crisis point. Twice I considered mentioning it to K and asking if I could get some vino, and twice I have got through to the other side and not done so; but not without difficulty.

It's a new phase and it's the toughest it's been since the outset. Possibly the changes to the wedding plans have upped my anxiety levels, along with nerves from interviews, starting a new job and basically being in a place that has made me feel out of my depth in so many ways, such that alcohol and it's anaesthetic effect have been more and more appealing. It has sharpened my realisation that I did use it as a prop to relax and that the effect it has can not be easily replicated with mint tea and lemon cake. Hmmmmm.

But I have stayed strong, I have stayed sober and I am 10 days from 6 full months of not drinking. Bring it on, baby, bring it on :-)

No pain, no gain!

I went out for a trot yesterday, incentivised by the fabulous weather and the fact that I simply have plenty of free time and haven't been using it wisely enough. My foot has been hurting on and off since the Spring. At one point it was agonising, so I switched to being in flats permanently and it got a lot better. Fact is, I have been squeezing my wee tootsies into high heels since I was about, oooh, 11 years old. Nothing was ever too high and I was also pretty adept at walking normally in them, so much so that I have done many a hike across London in 4 inch heels to little ill effect. Until now. I suppose it's like smoking and drinking really. You get away with it for years then when the time is up, the adverse stuff starts to make you wake up and smell the coffee.

Being 5 foot, 2 inches (on a good day!!) I wore my heels like an armour - never let anyone look down on me, oh no - and getting used to flats was strange at first. My fit flops have been worn to death all summer and I can honestly say that they have saved me from more serious podiatry issues. However, interviews necessitate heels, not least because my best and smartest shoes just happen to be high, but also because I feel more assertive in them. After a handful of outings in the last few weeks, the foot has been playing up again, so that will basically teach me.

Anyhoo, couldn't keep moaning about it and sitting at home, so decided to simply get my trainers on and see how I got on. Not bad, actually. Made it to Greenwich Park up some steep hills, trotted round there and headed home in a pretty good time. I didn't feel shattered, just well travelled, when I got back and the foot seems fine. Even today, my calves are sore (no surprise there) but eveything else is holding up well. Am having a break today to rest the muscles, but am definitely off out again tomorrow, especially whilst we enjoy our very late, but much appreciated, summer.

Today is actually my 5 month anniversary and I am feeling very positive about this milestone. I know 6 months is halfway, but I kind of feel I am nearly there and want to celebrate already! Impatient, I know, but there was a time when 5 months of sobriety would have sounded impossible to me. If K's eyes can stand it (he's having a bit of a hard time with them this week after having a doctor poking at them on Monday) we plan to head up town this evening for a wee drinkie with his brother in law's brother. It's P's birthday and his sis and brother in law will be there too, so it would be nice if we could make it. On our fast-dwindling resources, it's times like this that I appreciate being teetotal. A glass of sparkly water or two is a darn sight cheaper than what I would have previously consumed. Also, being sober, we will leave before the witching hour rather than hailing a cab in the early hours at great expense. I need to start my baking, now I think about it, as I shall be taking muffins along rather than a bought gift, and will need to craft some sort of pretty bag/box for them. I made a lemon polenta cake yesterday, which is yummy, but a bit scorched on the edges thanks to my oven (I think it's having its time of the month cos it's being less reliable than normal this week :-)) so I won't be able to pass that off as his cake!!!

Next week is October, and I am very conscious that I have just 2 months thereafter until the big day. Woooo! I have looked at dresses (thanks to my dear friend G who hauled me into some shops last weekend in Greenwich to look at all the options and my lovely friend A who traipsed down the Kings Road with me on Weds eve for some window shopping) and I have more idea than I did have. It's hard to get excited whilst my head is full of securing a new job, but I do intend making an effort over the next few weeks to get some sort of plan together. I have always been guilty of leaving things to the last minute as adrenaline seems to spur me on, but other than booking the essential stuff, I have been very slow in getting myself organised for what is the most important day of my life! Operation Wedding starts now :-)

The fruits of my labour!

Well, as I have mentioned before, baking has been my saviour these last few weeks, and I have rediscovered the joy both of smelling a cake in the oven (not licking the bowl, I may add which is a filthy habit practised by gluttons) and seeing the pleasure that other people get from home-baked goods. It really has put all my previous gift-buying into perspective. Friends are far more appreciative of a slab of sponge or a muffin or two in a pretty bag, than anything off the shelf that I have sourced (what a wank word that is; must stop using it) from Selfridges or Heals or wherever. God, I sound evangelical, but seriously, my opinion about money, profligacy, value and worth has changed radically over the last few months.

Anyway, as a result, I thought I would share my favourite recipe so far with everyone as it seems selfish to keep it all to myself. It's one of the easiest I have tried in terms of getting it right and has, so far, only met with compliments. Not one for weightwatchers but hey, life's far too short to refuse a bit of cake. Plus, I promise that if you give it away, your friends will be eternally grateful!!!

Lemon Drizzle Cake

Cake: 125g unsalted butter; 175g caster sugar; 2 large eggs; Zest of 1 lemon; 175g self-raising flour; pinch of salt; 4 tablespoons milk
Syrup: Juice of 1.5 lemons (about 4 tablespoons); 100g of icing sugar
Square cake tin (approx 18x18cm), lined.
Preheat the oven to 180 degrees or gas mark 4.
Method:
Cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl.
Beat the eggs in a small bowl until white and yolk are combined, then add to the large bowl along with the lemon zest. Mix all until well combined.
Add the sieved flour and salt, folding in gently but thoroughly.
Add the milk and mix.
Spoon into tin (taking care to ensure that the top is level) and put in oven for 40-45 mins, or until golden and a cake tester comes out clean.
While it's cooking, dissolve the icing sugar in the lemon juice, over a low heat.
As soon as you take the cake out, puncture holes all over the top, pour the syrup on and let it soak in. Make sure there are lots of holes in the top so it doesn't all go down the sides.
Wait until it's completely cold to take it out of the tin and cut into squares.

Big day out!

K and I spent a lovely day (possibly one of the last sunny ones) on Saturday at Severndroog Castle, on Shooter's Hill. We went there for the first time a couple of months ago and whilst we loved the semi-derelict folly in the woods, we were sad to see it shuttered up and redundant.

Thankfully, I spied on a blog on Friday that it was part of the London Open House initiative, whereby us plebs can visit places normally closed to the public for one weekend of the year. It's all thanks to the volunteers who are trying to preserve and reopen the folly, that it even happens, so I wasn't about to miss the chance to see inside and climb to the top.

As it was a lovely day I packed a picnic and we spent a few hours lazing around in the nearby woods afterwards with the papers. But the real treat was getting inside and seeing what had once been a beautiful summer house, built by a loving widow in memory of her late husband, who died fending off pirates in India who were preventing the spices being sent to the UK. If anyone created something so stunning nowadays for a dearly departed loved one, they'd probably be accused of wallowing in grief and not 'moving on' rather than wanting to celebrate the special relationship they have lost.

As it was a bit misty the views from the top weren't as good as they could have been, but they were impressive all the same. So many places are like this all over Britain - crying out for funding and slowly rotting. As we walked back and passed building sites putting up those new 'grey metal, sand coloured brick and white plaster' monstrosities that pass for blocks of flat these days, I wanted to scream at how beauty and aesthtics have been totally sacrificed these days for low price and practical. We watched a programme on architecture on Channel 4 last night and it only served to remind me how things have changed.

Anyway, no point ranting and raving about this when the weekend was actually really lovely. We spent Sunday down at the river near the Thames Barrier and basically chilled out. K had an interview first thing today and I am back doing them tomorrow, so we have other things to occupy our (not so!) pretty little minds.

Right ho. Am off to do some baking now, as I am visiting my friend and her baby tomorrow and know that a new mum will thoroughly appreciate some lemon drizzle cake between feeds!

No more false starts!

C'est moi de nouveau. Sorry for the faltering resumption of my blog but I would like to commit to paper (white board?) now that Virgin Media is shite. Truly, deeply, madly awful. I am finally online with a wireless connection after an entire month of trying. We only got the broadband and netbook to cover our period of unemployment and much of it has passed with little connectivity. I have battled with Indian call centres, systems verging on ridiculous (3 days to send packaging for a lap top to be collected in then another two to collect the laptop in its box, then 3 days to fix it and then return an entirely new netbook). Hmmmmmm, me thinks I am a mug of massive proportions for tolerating that.
Anyhoo. Enough complaints. I am alive, have been interviewing steadily and have more coming up. Nothing has come off yet, but I am not despondent. Time will tell and the right fit matters far more now than ever. I have, however, spent plenty of quality time with my many and much loved friends, become a master baker and generally discovered the art of relaxation! Ooh, and stayed sober which is far, far more important than anything else. 5 months is fast approaching and I suspect 6 months will be on me before I know it.

As for cravings, well, they have crept up a bit on me of late. Nothing major, just little longings. A glass of very good red, maybe with the Sunday roast. Some crisp white wine with the thai curry I made or perhaps a cheeky glass of bubbles after a hard days interviewing. Suddenly the taste and the reasons for drinking wine are bubbling back up to the surface and taunting me. What I have to remind myself, though, is that I wasn't drinking like that towards the end and am not entirely sure that I ever did. These are the sorts of phrases trotted out in magazine restaurant reviews, not the ones
I used to have when I fancied a bottle of plonk! I would start off well, then convince myself that another wee glass wouldn't hurt, then another and on an on. The hangover the next morning would be a sharp reminder that nothing has changed, followed by the carb cravings and the insatiable desire later on for a hair of the dog. That, my friends, is the reality and I am not about to get complacent about it. Not after all this time.

Onwards and upwards!

I'm back!

Have just taken 2 weeks off to reflect and chill, given my newly redundant status. I rarely take time out from all things internet, but I had no desire to log on added to woeful service from Virgin Media so had a semi-enforced break. I have been a busy bee and not only visited my brother and other friends in the Midlands, but have done my best to spend some quality time with my London-based pals, given we spend more time rearranging dates due to work commitments than actually having them!!! I have also signed up with the various agencies who are on the look out for something suitable, and will ask them all for temp work next week if nothing comes up in the meantime. It's a naturally slow summer period so am anticipating a fair few months of uncertainty rather than expecting to get settled again in the near future.

I've also visited K's dad in his nursing care home, which was sad as he is there for palliative care, but a lovely opportunity for me to reassure him that his son is in safe hands now! Plus I have taken up baking and am a demon at lemon drizzle and cherry and almond cake now. Hmm, something tells me domestic bliss actually suits me, which is a slightly startling thought. After all, the natural path would be kiddies next but I am still soooo not ready, having spent quality time with lots of friends' babies of late. Fab for an afternoon, but definitely not forever!

I shall elaborate more on the visit to my bro in later posts but suffice to say it was a success. Plus, my greatest success so far? FOUR beautiful months of sobriety. Today was my anniversary and I am so, damn proud.

Looking forward, looking back and living in the here and now

K and I have discovered a marvellous new way of chilling out of an evening. On Monday night we were both struggling to sleep, our minds churning with our various stresses (our respective job searches, our families etc etc) and he suggested we get up and go for a walk at about 10.30. It was a balmy evening and we wandered down to the river (about a 10 minute walk) and sat on a bench by the Thames Barrier. It was unbelievably still, quiet and calming, looking over at the lights from the O2, Canary Wharf, docklands and the barrier. Apart from the odd figure in the distance, we saw no one and sat chatting for about an hour. When we got back we had a quick cuppa then slept like neither of us has done in a long, long time.

We went back last night as it was warm again and we both felt like listening to the water lapping up against the wooden pontoons that are common round there, as it is incredibly soporific. At one point we turned round to see a lady fox (well I presumed her sex as she was so cute and sprightly, not mangey and sleekit like a boy would be!!) staring at us and she continued for about the next half hour to dart in and out of the shadows. At one point she ran up audaciously towards us, until she was mere inches away, but swiftly beat a retreat. We figured that her cubs were probably at the other side of us somewhere and that she needed to get past but wasn’t quite brave enough, so we headed home around midnight so she could be reunited with her offspring.

In sobriety, I am still constantly amazed at the pleasure that can be gained from the simplest things. Over the years I have tried and tested all manner of hedonistic pursuits and each and everyone has its ‘sell by date’. Like they say ‘the drugs don’t work’ and neither, after a while does booze, shopping, clubbing or any of the other things people aspire to in youth as they are supposedly naughty or purely pleasure seeking. What does work, never bores me and always leaves me feeling better afterwards, is nature, art and the joy of learning something new, be it information or a skill. Finishing a good book that has enlightened me somehow, chilling in a peaceful setting with a cup of tea and some classical music or a ramble of any description in the country, mountains or by the sea, all still press my buttons. As does cooking. The other evening I spent 2 hours pottering, chopping fruit and veg, mixing stuff up and generally experimenting in an almost meditative state! Last night, I bought all the 2 for one veg offers from M&S and watched K gobble up a huge plate of chicken, asparagus and mushroom couscous that I had knocked up. I am so middle aged that I have The Archers on in the background and lose myself in their stories of country life!!!

My friends that I went to The Proms with the other evening, whom I have known forever and very much feel like a brother and sister (albeit married to each other ones!!), were laughing at mine and K’s dreams to move somewhere remote and relaxing. As they correctly pointed out, I’d be ace at running the village website as I am such a nosey cow, but we’d be severely hampered by our combined inability to drive! Given that K won’t ever get a licence as he is now deemed partially sighted, I am duty bound to learn one day and they have already got a mental image of me in a Beetle, holding everyone up on the country lanes whilst I go about being a sticky beak!!!

In spite of these realisations, I am still finding it hard to let go of the things I once coveted but which no longer please me as they once did. It’s like when you drop ties off old friends because you no longer have anything in common, or they have let you down badly. You know it’s for the best deep down, but old habits are really difficult to break and your mind keeps taking you back to good times and things that might weaken your resolve. What I do know, however, is that time is a great healer and the day does come round when good things you did before are hard to conjure up again and you can forget what made it once tick. K and I were discussing old romances last night as we sat by The Thames and it puts it all into perspective, really. Once you really did love someone, but in many instances, the love does indeed die. Obviously, I hope this is never the case with K, but we both have experience of when that did happen and can draw on that to help make sure we never stay together for the sake of it as we have both done with people in the past.

So my days of loving the vino are fading – slowly but surely and I am convinced that when the year is up, there won’t be a strong desire to reunite! It was mine and a colleague’s leaving lunch today, with 2 of the partners, and we had a lovely lunch at the Gaucho Grill; big hunks of juicy red raw steak, drenched in garlic and parsley – yum!! Not once did I even contemplate having wine with it, even when the 2 other girls had theirs. The taste of the meat was so well defined and the pleasure of enjoying just the food is something I can finally appreciate. Total bliss!

And finally, I did indeed promise last week that a new, healthier life beckons and I was determined to start making changes. I managed a lovely, endorphin boosting run on Monday and am off again this evening to trot round the mean streets of Charlton. OK, so I aint Paula Radcliffe yet, folks, but it is a start!!!

Wee update

So, I’ve been offline for a wee while but I am back, with a vengeance! Well, sort of! I have had such a lot to do since opting to leave my job and with my other half taking redundancy at the same time and shuttling between me and his dad, it’s been pretty hectic.

Have registered with 5 agencies, some of which I can trust and some of which are new to me. It’s a dreary and soul destroying job, chugging round the various places and engaging with them about your likes and dislikes etc. I have found many dead-eyed and frankly plain stupid folk in the recruitment industry, so when you get the odd gem (and yes, they do exist if you look hard enough) you regain the will to live!

It’s a slow month, August, in general, so am fully expecting to have to start temping at the end of the month whilst I search for something permanent to take me on to the next stage in my wee (well varied would be a polite word for it, chaotic and unplanned would be more honest!) career. Anyway, more tomorrow as I have a load of stuff to do (my departure having generated lots of work, typically!!)

Some of my musings!

I feel trapped by circumstances which have shaped my life and career path since as far back as I can remember. I have never overtly rebelled against my parents, until now. They laughingly believe they haven’t forced me into anything and scoff at people whose children, in their opinion, have either been forced to do things or left to run wild. It has never occurred to them that they called the au pair agency and put me on the plane to France at 18. They were the ones who picked me up in Cardiff and arranged my work placement in London at the House of Commons and they were the ones who were insistent on giving me the cash to buy a flat so that I would get on the housing ladder. All these things were masterminded by them. I was distraught at not getting my A’level grades to do law and simply went along with their grand plan to go to France. The terror I felt remains with me today and it’s no lie that whilst being outside your comfort zone is a good thing, my year in Nancy was extremely traumatic. Losing a friend to meningitis and watching a family being domestically abused by the husband/father isn’t exactly a fun way to spend a year abroad!

I cried buckets when they drove me from my beloved Cardiff to go to London. They were insistent that I do it and again, the anxiety I felt for the first few months was immense. I left behind a boyfriend, friends, my beloved aunt and uncle and the first feeling of roots that I had ever had.

The flat too was there idea. Renting had never bothered me, but it did them. They then took hold of all the redecoration and did everything as they saw fit, irrespective of my desires. When I told them I didn’t want my dad and brother to do my kitchen and bathroom as I would use redundancy money instead, I was accused of being ungrateful.

So who’s to blame? Me, basically, I let them apron strings wrap around me and then refused to get out even when the warning bells were sounding. It was always easier to give in, ignore my mother’s outrageous outbursts and refuse to make a stance against their behaviour. I have no one to blame by myself and pretending otherwise would stop me making any changes. Being a victim is a choice. I have friends battling serious illnesses, coping with job losses and many other major life events and if they gave in and chose to be put upon, they would be giving up. I am not about to do that and if the path ahead is long and bumpy, the beautiful wooded scene at the end of it will be worth every minute of struggle.

The rot set in early, though – most specifically when I was berated as a child for not being sociable enough and forced to be outgoing and (in their opinion) friendly. They always had a massive issue with me being shy or (as they called it) ignorant. Fact was, I have never enjoyed socialising per se. There, I’ve said it. I now need to issue a series of disclaimers or risk losing a lot of friends!!!

As I get older and more at ease in my own skin, the necessity to be popular and busy has pretty much disappeared. I craved popularity when I was at school in order to please my mother, yet was firmly stuck on the bottom rung of the list of people that others wanted to be friends with! It was made quite clear to me by my parents that the bullies only went for me because I made it ‘easy’ for them as I was bolshy, overweight and dreary with specs and a gothic dress sense. Nice! All the above offended my mother and she made it her mission to try to change the hard and unpleasant edges.

I went on to university and discovered you could be yourself there and not please everyone, which was liberating in one sense but conflictual in another. I happily discarded friends from there who I felt didn’t actually fit with me and my ethics/ideals, rather than making things fit and compromising myself as I had done at school. But in my parent’s eyes that made me argumentative and marginal – they never approved of this and made it clear that I should be making friends with the right people rather than picking and choosing the ones I actually liked!!! In their world view it was all about networking and who you knew – you don’t dine with people who make you laugh or challenge your thinking. No, you choose people who were high up in the rugby club/golf club/Masons etc and if you don’t like them much, never mind as you can always slag ‘em off later!!!

I have always hated professional networking events, weddings, parties, large dinner parties, reunions, you know the sort of thing, anywhere basically where I had to mingle with strangers/acquaintances and make the dreaded small talk. I have excused myself from many but have equally attended a large number that I had no hope of getting out of. I have usually made a good fist of it and done my best to have a pleasant time; that said, getting drunk was always a great way of coping (not!) because oblivion made the chat much less painful! I’ve tried not to be a curmudgeon and have always gone to things with the right head on. Fact is, even then, I am always, without exception, relieved to exit and head to bed/home. Socialising wears me out – I have probably got a certain time limit, at which point any more is painful! It’s not that I don’t enjoy the company of friends, I have some fantastic ones, but I really do prefer to see them one on one (well, max two together!) Beyond that and I get prickly. It’s just me. It’s not about being rude or arrogant or superior but I am happy communicating with one person at a time. Even then, I still like to spread it out and see no more than 2 people a week. Any more and I start to feel vexed at the prospect of meeting up. Basically, I know my limits, I try to stick to them and will always go to events that matter to other people, who in turn treat my desire not to have a wedding party with respect. I love them and all their differences and I hope they love me and mine!!!

Made it!

Yip, 3 months of sobriety has just passed me by and I am starting my fourth with renewed vigour and gusto. K and I went for a walk yesterday to Severndroog Castle (which is about 45 mins from my house and was featured on Griff Rhys Jones' Restoration thingy, yet I have never been there before in 5 years...).

Anyhow, the photo is moi in front of the folly and is a fair indicator of how much happier and healthier I am at this juncture than I was 3 months back. True, I have way more on my plate to worry about, but had the last 3 months been soaked by booze, who knows what would have happened. I made it and am embarking on a brand new chapter of my life this week.

In short, I've handed in my notice at work, with the proviso that I get a month's salary if I hop off next week. I've started touting my ass round the agencies with the hope of getting a permanent role as and when the right thing comes along and some temping in the meantime. I am taking August off to do home stuff and relax and contemplate my naval a bit and save money and start running in earnest again and, and...it will fly by but I am determined to use this month constructively and get some focus.

K is back to Southampton tomorrow but we have at least had 4 blissful days together so who am I to complain about getting my wee space back to myself again! Am sure I will be cussing the world again by Friday but for now, all's well in my world and I am ready for the challenges ahead.

Feel the fear!

I am a victim of my own self esteem. It’s me that keeps me down. I keep having ideas and thoughts and think about putting them into practice, then I back off in fear. Fear of failing, fear of people laughing at me, fear of people saying told you so and fear of being a success and then having to maintain it.

I was watching some of those ‘no going back/new life abroad’ programmes at the weekend – which I agree, is nothing to be proud of but whilst high-brow boyfriend is away, I can’t get enough of a trashy fix!! Anyway, what this taught me was that you have to be brave – very brave – with your life choices. You can’t expect the dream job to land in your lap, your relationship to be perfect and life’s little obstacles to magically disappear. Basically, if I want something I have to think about how I am gonna get it and then start making progress bit by bit. I think I can safely confess to having never planned anything in my life. I sort of sit and wait for things to happen to me and then baulk at the stress. If I decided to embrace my life and make of it what I want, things would be very different.

However, giving up drink has proven that I am not a quitter – I really can do something day by day, step by step and with a clear sense of progress being made. I am capable of changing radically and achieving something great. This time I’m not second best, as I’ve achieved the ultimate goal which was to manage to stay sober and if that’s possible, hell knows what else I could achieve!

This weekend marks the 3 month milestone and I shall celebrate it with K. He’s back for a few days and I simply CAN NOT WAIT! God, have I missed him. It’s nearly our 2 year anniversary too, so, as we won’t be going to Paris now to celebrate because of circumstances (financial and with regard to his dad) we shall at least mark it with some quality time this weekend, starting with a gig tomorrow night.

Grrrr. Get outta my way!!

Is it me or is the fire in my belly that signals rage an alarming sign that living a life anaesthetised by alcohol is in fact much safer than one where emotions are allowed to emerge! Perhaps this is the explanation for the British habit of binge drinking - we wrongly assume that it’s better not to feel the feeling than experience the head rush it ultimately brings. Inebriation keeps more of us out of trouble than in!

Of course, this doesn’t allow for the rage of a drunkard. It’s clear that alcohol can make some people more aggressive than when they are sober. For many though, alcohol suppresses their fury. That said, I can remember clearly one customer in the pub where I worked as a teenager, who could not be served a strong bitter as it sent him completely off the rails. On a normal strength bitter, he was a pussy cat, but 2-3 pints of Bass and the pool cues were in danger of becoming lethal weapons. Ha ha. Not so funny if you were at the receving end, but no need to source a pub singer or a karaoke machine with Scoff around!

However, the majority of people are more apt to become your best friend/maudlin/excitable once their consumption has exceeded the government guidelines and in my case (unlike my mother, who is one of the aggressive drunk types) I was usually sweet, sleepy and clumsy. For some reason, gin made me exceptionally tearful but nothing made me want to punch walls.

Boy how sobriety has unfettered my restraint! I am actually aware of it, which is scary because I know when my tone of voice is sharp, if my look could have just slain them or the insistence with which I put my point across has become uncomfortable for the other party. Yet I can’t stop myself. It’s as if the urge to be honest and to the point is too great, lest I be untruthful to myself. I would rather have a damn good ding dong or cut someone down to size, than walk away or back down.

So what’s eating me? I think it’s a general malaise, really. Times are tough and when I am already less than enamoured with my lot, being surrounded by bosses who are currently fucked off to high heaven and a partner who has a dying father and another job loss to deal with, what’s there left to be happy about, eh?

So back to one of my earlier resolutions. I need to be thankful again. So I am grateful for:

- Being loved. I’ve spent enough of my life questioning whether or not I was loved, be it by friends, family or boyfriends. My K may have his moments, but I know he loves me as deeply as I do him and that is one of the greatest feelings I can think of;
- Being healthy. Tomorrow I really, truly am going on a major health kick. More on that tomorrow, but the fact is I can and I will. I’d like to capitalise on my strong foundation and be the best that I can.
- Being employable! OK – I may have to work hard to find my next role and I may even have to take the plunge and do something completely different, but, at the end of the day, good will out and I will find my niche. I can feel it in my bones!

Anyhow, more tomorrow as I am actually a bit busy work-wise this week. But I have plans and I shall share them demain.

TGI Thursday!

Haven’t been in the mood to write much this week, as I have been busy actually dealing with stuff, if that makes any sense! Well, I suppose reflecting too much on things was giving me a headache so I decided to take some time out from my stressing and start being practical about my ‘situations’ instead. My friend S is the ideal sounding board when I am all a fluster, and after coffee with her, I felt ready to tackle the world again. I also had a really good catch-up on the phone with my friend A (she’s been away in Spain the past few weeks so I have missed her!!) and a couple of really good discussions with my soon to be sister-in-law. I am conscious that it is a shame that at times like these, I can’t really speak freely to my family (even the sympathetic ear of my aunt and brother could be judgemental) so I am all the more thankful that I have such an ace support network who have inspired to ‘keep calm and carry on!’

Have tomorrow off on my new regime, so am going to see my favourite recruitment contact now she’s back from hols. K may be back in Charlton too, though as usual, it all really depends on his father’s condition. Anyhow, am sure I will have plenty to add next week cos it’s never dull in my world!!!!

Toilet humour!

I am back! Had a wee break as the first 2 days of this week were pretty full on and stressful. For once it wasn’t my family causing my distress or, for that matter my job. It’s tedious and infuriating timing, but K’s had to leave the company he’s been with since end March. It’s a complicated story of him being on compassionate leave as their plans for expansion (which involved him) changed and the fact that in the current market, everyone is now expendable. I should know, having recently discovered this about my own role.

After the post mortem on Monday evening, K headed back down to Southampton on Tuesday morning. He is there now for the rest of the week. In many ways, it was the only solution, as K’s head has been with his dad for weeks now and it’s been impossible for him to concentrate or be fully present in the workplace. His dad has been slightly better (in relative terms) the last few days, although they have been well advised that his condition will deteriorate again sooner rather than later. Until the inevitable end, he can spend proper amounts of time down south and will be in a position to organise the funeral and house clearance without any demands from work.

The bollocks bit of it is that we are one salary down and with my pay cut, that’s not particularly funny. The other bit that annoys is that he has to add another chapter to his CV and will have to resolve this as soon as things are over where his dad is concerned. C’est la vie and all that but yeah, this has tested me I have to say.

Anyway, am now over the agony and moving on with the practicalities; budgeting like mad in other words! But the constant upside, and the one I continually remind myself is worth a fortune, is that I still haven’t hit the bottle as our precarious house of cards has teetered on the balance. I felt immense pressure on Monday of the ball juggling kind (they are all in the air right now and spinning madly) but I resisted a drink and could tackle stuff on Tuesday after a good sleep, with a clear head and a clear conscience.

Anyway, I am bored with my ramblings today – I sense that my blog makes me out to be miserable, stressed and anxious when that is far from the case, so in a return to one of my previous resolutions, I should like to tell you a wee story that made me chuckle yesterday.
As mentioned before, we moved last Wednesday from a plush, vast office on the 3rd floor of a splendid Georgian conversion with views across St James’s Park to a new ‘rabbit hutch’ style converted meeting room, in the basement of the same building. With the exception of a window that looks straight out onto a brick wall, we are now housed in an airless box (albeit one with top notch fixtures and fittings!). This does mean, however, that we have our door permanently propped open onto a communal corridor in order for some air to circulate and to alleviate the stress from the claustrophobia-inducing dimensions.

Our door happens to be opposite a loo/shower in the building, which is used by our fellow lessees on the ground floor as a ‘quiet’ one. Basically, they have their own facilities close to home, but this one is huge and well away from the masses. To say that at least one of them comes down with his newspaper of a morning tells you a little about its usage! The head of office services came to see us yesterday, highly embarrassed but obliged to tell us that she has had 3 separate complaints in as many days from people who think we must be peeping at them and observing their habits. That is fucking priceless. British reserve at its very, very best!!! I would just love to have seen the emails they sent her. How might they have gone, I wonder?

‘I would like to complain about the change of use of the room opposite the lower ground bathroom facilities. Since the new occupants have arrived, their door has been left constantly ajar, thus preventing me from having a discreet and private shit every morning whilst perusing the Daily Hate. Could you please request that they desist from monitoring my toilet habits and respect my right to use the shitter with impunity. Many thanks.
Keep on smiling!

Peace and forgiveness are beautiful things...

Lots of developments in my world right now, which for once is no bad thing! Yesterday was the sort of day when I remember that in general, people are not nice and helpful and the dog-eat-dog maxim rules supreme. Twas the office move and I spent from 08.15 to 17.30 moving 4 people from a huge office on the 3rd floor to a rabbit hutch in the basement. I kid you not that not one of them lifted a finger to assist as, being the office manager, that’s my job isn’t it? I have masterminded so many office moves in previous incarnations that in many respects, it wasn’t surprising. Their level of annoyance at having to log off for half an hour whilst IT did the server switch was to be expected as everyone is always manically busy the moment you need to log them off for a short time. The fact that they couldn’t even stomach taking their own desk stuff (pen pot, mousemat in-tray etc) downstairs themselves was again, nothing new. The barrage of complaints as soon as they change rooms: this chair’s crap, why are those boxes stacked there (because we now have 4 cupboards rather than 8, perchance?), the water’s warm (yip, I had to turn the machine off when I unplugged it to move it down 4 flights of stairs) my mobile reception keeps going (you’re in a fucking basement you moron) and I can smell damp (let me repeat, we are underground, in the cellar, yes it’s still Pall Mall but not as you know it!!) were all up there on my long list of ‘irritating complaints when you ask folk to change their environment’.

I was totally relieved to get out at 5.30 and head to my precious Jessica for acupuncture. She managed to decompress me after a day of winding myself up into a tight knot, so I was calm and composed when I got home and made the call to my brother as planned. It was all very revelatory and much like the one I had with my aunt earlier this week. Suffice to say that my brother and I exchanged all our news and discussed the parental situation. I put my point across and he also gave me more insights into what’s going on in their lives at the moment. We spent a good hour chatting and agreed that he would talk to them sometime soon to see if he could get some sense out of them and maybe my brother and I could then meet and start talking through a ‘peace plan’ of sorts. I have mixed feelings as I haven’t forgotten how little support he offered last year (at times he seemed to fan the flames) but we all make mistakes so am happy to let bygones be bygones if it means I can stop the harassment from my mum and dad. Also, as fickle as my brother is, he’s a decent chap and I’d much rather be friends with him than mortal enemies. Let the work commence!!!

Am off to Rye tomorrow (K’s on his way back this eve from Southampton to join me) and I simply can not wait. Much needed R&R after the last few weeks, nay months. Monday I will have to tackle the boredom of job searching and settling into our new cave-like office dwelling but am putting those thoughts firmly away until then!

Knock me down with a feather!

Lots of developments in my world, right now. After months of no progress, everything seems to be charging in a forward direction at once. In fact, am finding the speed at which things are moving quite frightening.

Just a week ago the family situation was at its lowest point and looked practically unsalvageable. Work was slow but nothing was being said and K’s dad was appearing to improve and almost looked to be on the mend, albeit temporarily. However, today it is an altogether vastly different scenario.

Workwise I have moved from possibly job-seeking to actively! It’s that gut feeling you get when a tide has turned and you are ready to move on mentally. We are moving offices this week so I’ve been doing my best snake impression scrabbling around floors undoing PCs and cleaning out cupboards with renewed zeal! Once we are newly housed in the basement, I am free to go whenever I am ready. My favourite search consultant is away this week but back next and ready to apply herself fully to my search. My bosses best friend who is also searching for me has so far been active enough to send me a job description or two, so I am busy planning interview outfits and considering the questions I am likely to get. Something like ‘so Ms McLeish, having worked for 8 companies in 12 years do you think your truly deserve the moniker of the Black Widow?’ How right one of my Telegraph bosses truly was, eh?

On another note things took a dramatic and massively positive swing upwards on the family front last night, much of which I can truly and honestly attribute to my sobriety. For the first time I can see how my decision to give up the drink has altered how my nearest and dearest perceive me – for better and for worse.

The upshot is that my father sent yet another threatening email to me yesterday evening at 6.30 with all sorts of mumbo jumbo about getting his money back and me resenting them etc. It was just so aggressive and repetitive that I forwarded the whole thing to my brother and said so much for trying to solve things, he’s really not prepared to listen. On my way home my brother emailed that he was livid with my dad and had just called him to say so and had really lost it with him. My bro had chosen to say nothing about us speaking later this week as he didn’t want to lose my trust. My father’s additional email had enraged him (having told dad he was sending me a message himself and to leave it for now) and he said we could discuss this more later this week. I was really surprised. The fact that my brother is finally seeing the truth of what they send me has been an eye opener for him. I know I have clung to possible developments before but this time, given my brother has no need to intervene unless he really does want it solved, I am quietly optimistic.

Anyway, his change of heart has been attributed to something in my last email, which is when I finally mentioned to my parents that their drunken ramblings and slanging matches couldn’t continue. My brother apparently found that the paragraph on that subject resonated with him. Am sure it has had the complete opposite effect on my parents, serving only to make them angrier, but my brother has definitely seen the positives.

By sheer coincidence, as I came through the door last night, my aunt called – firstly to explain that she was truly sorry that they couldn’t make the wedding and when she asked about stuff I just spilled my guts. She was shocked and stunned and incredibly supportive. Up until now I have done everything possible not to discuss it with her as I knew it put her in a tricky position. However, she had been totally unaware that my mother had been being so incredibly vile and was in full agreement that her behaviour in general over the years has been worryingly destructive. It was like opening the floodgates and we spoke for nearly 40 minutes. She was very pleased about my brother’s approach and we discussed all sorts, from the arguments she’d witnessed to the things she hadn’t. I explained that I had given up drinking as I had no desire to end up like my mother and she too, like my brother, was pleased. Both have not suggested before that I did, but both are equally pleased that I have. So I think, folks, that says it all. As the sober one I am the rational, credible one. Pitted against my mothers insane, vicious and drunken rants, I can only be more easily supported by other family members. I can thank the fact that I’ve started my 3rd month of total sobriety for some easing of the family feud. Hallelujah!

Anyhoo, have some cupboards to empty (ooh, the glamour of it) so more tomorrow if I can find the time. Let’s just say that I am more at ease now than I have been in a long, long time. And still dry to boot. Yay!!!!

Start the week...

The last few days have had more than their fair share of trials and tribulations! In amongst it all I had a fab day off on Friday just getting the flat straight, a lovely time in Reigate on Saturday with K’s family at my nephew’s 3rd birthday and K was back after 2 days away so there was some good stuff going on. Also, my brother has finally intervened in the family stuff and offered to broker some peace with my parents. Am not getting too excited, as I have been here before but I am willing to give it a shot and have promised to call him this week when I have time to chat to work something out.
That said, K’s dad is very sick now and K has offered to take time out from work for the last few weeks which is sad and also will hit us in a financial way. Hey ho – money is nothing compared to his loss so it’s best that we put that issue aside for the short term at least. My own job situation now needs resolved and it was no fun returning today after my first 4 day week. As I suspected, everything was waiting with an urgent flag on it and then things were dropped on me today with a ‘do it now’ tag attached (Metaphorically of course!) I can see that this is exactly how things would be were I to stay here part time so am now very much set on leaving properly rather than trying to fudge a compromise. Clean breaks benefit everyone much more than some sort of halfway house.

So am not writing much as I am hoping for a quieter day tomorrow instead to compose my thoughts. Still dry though and every day that goes past now feels like a bonus.

Bring it on!

The times they are a changing. Good old Bob Dylan, eh! Some weeks, when I get out of bed on a Monday, I have no possible idea how much shit is going to hit the fan as the days go by. Seriously, this week has been a corker. Every time I have told someone that my life’s pretty tough right now, they’ve decided to trump it and throw something else in to the mix! On Sunday I called my aunt and mentioned I’d had a pretty tough week. She said, well can I break some more bad news? Me and your uncle probably can’t come to your wedding. Great! Yip, the 2 people on my side that I am able to invite have an issue with their holiday date and will probably have to cry off.

On Monday I called my dad to tell him to call off the dogs (i.e. my mum) as K’s dad was unwell and we had enough on our plate. His response was to say, what, you think that’s bad, try this for size. We want our £20k back and we want it now…

My bosses meanwhile were aware that I had my fill of rubbish to deal with from my parents and that K needed all the support he could get. Their response? Suggest I find another job. Whoopee dee doopee dee do. Yip, 2 months of sitting doing nothing, imploring them to let me know what’s happening, and they choose to fess up that the company is likely to be wound up today of all days. Just after T, my main boss, got back from our little chat, K called to say he was dashing off to Southampton as his father had received his test results and he has untreatable lung cancer. The saying it never rains but it pours should be applied to me thrice over!!!

So that’s the bad stuff. The good stuff? I have drawn a line under my family once and for all which is good in the sense that I can sleep again. Bad in the sense that I hoped it would never reach this point but peace is better than false hope. If my aunt and uncle can’t make the wedding, it’s not the end of the world. They may feel compromised with my parents taking such a radical stance or they may genuinely have a problem. Either way, I’d rather know now than nearer the time. Work-wise I’ve got something concrete now to work with rather than sitting in limbo watching it all unravel in silence. I have asked to go down to a 4 day week and take a small pay cut whilst I job search. This was well received and as K and I are financially comfortable right now, it’s doable. I’ve already spoken to 2 key recruitment folk (one a good friend of my bosses) and thoroughly expect to find something else before long. It’s tough out there, but good assistants are always thin on the ground so if there is a job for me, I’ll nail it. They haven’t given me a deadline here and I have the summer months to search so I think I’ve found the silver linings – thin as they may be!!!!

Yesterday was a tough day whatever way you look at it, as it was the anniversary of K’s mum’s death 7 years ago. Never a good day for K and he also finds it tough as her death was in his pre-sobriety days. It made it all the more apparent to me how much being sober has helped me deal with whatever has been slung at me of late, without crumbling under the pressure. It’s been a rocky few months and I have already done my mental sums in terms of how many bottles would have been sunk over this period and how many hangovers I would have had if I’d still been on the booze! Both financially and physically, I am relieved that I am no longer imbibing and have not had the horror of the morning after for as long as I can now remember. The only time I was tempted to drink was after rowing with my dad yet again about their harassment, but even then the moment was short-lived. Drink no longer features the way it used to in my life – for either the ups or the downs. Instead of that I am actually more in need of a friendly ear or a long mind-clearing walk when the going gets tough. These I suppose are the things that everyone without a drink problem is aware of automatically. Hey, it’s taken me 35 years to get to this point, but better late than never, eh?

Am off tomorrow as I start my 4-day week and it is a real luxury. K will be away (happy coincidence) and I can clean and relax to my heart’s content!

D.I.V.O.R.C.E as Dolly would say!

Am in somewhat better humour today! Well, considering it couldn’t have really got much worse yesterday, I am surprisingly resilient if I am alive and well at all today!!!

K and I went for a walk down by the river when I got home as it was a beautiful and very warm evening. We had a drink at a pub that we sometimes frequent, looking over the Thames and watched a cruise ship come down the river and embark on its round Britain trip. Felt a lot better after some fresh air and we picked up an Indian takeaway on the way home for an even more relaxing evening.

Obviously, my family’s behaviour yesterday was a nightmare we could have both done without. It has simply reached its nadir and this time, it has to stop. I am gutted that my father would stoop so low as to trick me into corresponding with him by being friendly in his first mail, then unleashing the beast that is my mother once he had his ammunition. I feel hurt and betrayed, added to which he claimed in his message that he was poverty stricken as a result of my not selling the flat and could not go part-time as a result. I did defend myself against this attack suggesting that holidays in Canada and France and a mortgage taken out for my brother by them a few years ago does not a poor person make!!

They are so hell bent on being right about K (yet all their attacks on him are actually groundless) that they don’t want to hear or see the reality as they would lose credibility amongst their ‘friends’ if he turned out to be normal (relatively so). This is the part that hurts me the most. They are quite simply cutting off their nose to spite their face. They would prefer no relationship with me to one which conceded that K is my choice and that this should be respected if not liked. It basically tells me exactly where I stand in their eyes; sorry, love, you are a disappointment as you failed to be stick thin, mega clever and marry a man who could support you so fuck right off. Yip, you did read the support bit right. In 2009 my father suggested yesterday that K ought to be supporting me! Jesus wept, which century are we in, exactly? As I pointed out ‘I was brought up by a mother who told me to never rely on any man as they can’t be trusted, so make sure you have a career’. Their hypocrisy just astounds me. My father suggested that he never had help in life from my mother’s father, so why should K? Well, this isn’t actually true as his business failed in the late ‘80s and my mother ‘bailed him out’. The only money she had was inherited so for the rest of my life (when drunkenly arguing) she has regularly reminded him that she rescued them from the brink with her cash injection. The fact that this money originates with my Grandad Andrew (my mother takes after her mother in choosing never to work) is, in their eyes, irrelevant. Incredible.

So it’s over. I have officially divorced my parents. My brother has effectively chosen their side and I can’t say that his absence in my life is a huge loss. He did only bother with me when he felt like it (in between girlfriends in other words) and after his disgraceful behaviour last May when he was not just rude to me but insulting in front of his friends, I haven’t exactly lost any sleep over his decision to back my mum and dad. I have a partner and his sister and other family members have been more than welcoming. I have a lot of friends, all of whom I want to spend time with (unlike my parents who spend equal amounts of time slagging off their so called friends as enjoying their company!!) and the people I work with are also, underneath their professional veneer, a decent bunch. If I can’t have a family that wants to wish me well and not undermine, bully and demean me, then I am better off without one.

Moving on…tomorrow really is a new chapter in my life. Hey, I am over 2 months into my sobriety and that makes me far, far happier than anything I’ve done in life so far.

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the water...

Have had a very challenging day and am not feeling particularly in the mood to blog much. It all started at 8.00 when I got to work and was welcomed by an email from my father, in response to my call to him yesterday. The upshot of this is that the email he sent last week was a false friend. Any pretence at an olive branch was sent to fish information from me which has been chucked right back in my face. I was totally shocked. The calls I made to him later went rapidly downhill as I was so incensed. It has come as a complete blow that all this time, he has been aiding and abetting my poisonous mother and that they would rather add to my stress at the moment than alleviate it. I mentioned yesterday that her timing was lousy as K’s dad is so ill, and he accused me of emotional blackmail…again, his standards may be that low but I would personally never consider using something like that to ‘bolster my case’. The facts are pretty clear – I have a very unpleasant family and am actually better off away from them and their toxic (read vindictive) behaviour. That all said, it’s not nice to face up to the fact that any hopes (however slight) of a reconciliation have been dashed.

Have felt alternately sick and full of rage all day. Am leaving shortly as I am next to useless and have done all the candidate work that needed done today. One of those days that I wish I could say had never happened; but it has.

The perils of drunk dialing..

Tis Monday, the sun is shining and all is not so well in my world! Well, it could definitely be worse but still…

Friday was fine. I registered our marriage and pottered all day and had a fine old time. K came back on Saturday around lunchtime and it was a pleasure to have him back. That said, he had received the sad news from a nurse the day before that his father is pretty much on his last legs so the next 2 weeks or so are going to be pretty stressful. They have opted for palliative care for him now, given that there is little chance of him making a recovery of any sort, but as for timings we can only just wait and see and pray that he has peaceful and painless days until the end.

Having spent a week in Southampton on his own, K and I were just relieved to get some time together and relax. We did pretty much the same on Sunday, with a trip to Greenwich as it was such lovely weather. All would have been fine (though subdued given the sadness over his dad) had my mother not decided to text out of the blue. Suffice to say the fact that it arrived in the early hours of Saturday morning, suggesting strongly that she was very drunk. The content was abusive, rambling and stopped abruptly, so she had either passed out at that point or given up. In summary, it was much the same as the usual rubbish, with additional demands over my returning the deposit for my flat sooner rather than later and the new revelation that I have been cut out of their will. Nice. Not.

Rather than blowing my top (my initial and very strong instinct!!), I waited until lunchtime today to call my dad and ask him to ask her to desist. He didn’t answer his mobile so I left a message and am awaiting a call back. I suspect I may have a long wait as I decided that the nature of his recent email meant he could have done one of 2 things. Either he sent it as a fishing exercise, so that I would divulge information and give them new ammunition, or he sent it to try and mend fences but my mother didn’t like the content of my reply and responded in her own inimitable fashion without his blessing. Either way, I feel he ought to be given a chance to tell me rather than me presuming I know that he was being malicious. I really do hope he contacted me in innocence and with good intentions and that the drunken drivel from her was of her own doing. We shall see, but if nothing else, he will at least have to interrogate her first about the content if he is unaware.

So, having dealt with all this, I am pleased to say that I am definitely still dry. Yip, over 2 months now and counting!! Perhaps the message simply reinforced how dreadful drunk people can be, reminding me why I don’t ever want to get like that again. My mother may, much to her chagrin if she knew, have actually done me a favour!!! I didn’t even contemplate a drink as I felt so much stronger being virtuous and resisting the temptation to drown my sorrows. I was actually quite elated that I no longer got myself in such a state and was only reminded of the many, many times she has abused me when sozzled in the past. It is a shame if this is a sign of my bridge-building with the family having failed, but it may also be an indication of them no longer ‘singing from the same song sheet’. Who knows, but I should hopefully find out soon.

As the second month goes by...but not in a blur!

Am not at work tomorrow so today I will be mostly celebrating…2 months dry. Yay!!!! So, to all those who did doubt that my resolve would last (and there were some naysayers both overt and secret – you know who you are!) I can truly, honestly, 100% confirm that I have not touched even a drop of alcohol since 26 April. Now, if I am truthful, it feels like it’s been longer. I suppose that may have a lot to do with the fact that I started once on 16 April and only had a brief relapse around the 26th. Another bit of me, though, can’t really recall what a drinking life was like. It’s almost as if it’s either someone else’s reality or part of my dim and distant past. I have definitely cast aside all the ritualistic elements (Friday eve, Sunday lunch etc no longer equate to booze) and have also stopped thinking automatically about an occasion as to whether or not alcohol will be involved. I am not foolish enough, however, to imagine that I am home and dry (pardon the pun): whilst the initial battle is over I have far from won the war. I still have so many areas to work on regarding the issues that drove me to drink too much in the first place. I haven’t reached this milestone and considered doing anything less than a year of abstinence still. The marker was laid in April and it aint about to be moved! But I am proud to have got this far without falling off the wagon and believe that I am heading into month 3 a stronger, happier and more determined person than ever.

I watched a very interesting documentary last night, concerning the effects of extreme dieting (2 journos trying to drop from a size 12 to a 00). The psychological changes were the startling bit and it made me realise how much abusing substances (be they drugs, alcohol, tobacco or junk food) all fall into the same arena. The mind starts to play tricks on you the minute you go from too much to too little of anything – the key is hitting the ever elusive middle ground and being as normal as it is humanly possible to be around anything that brings pleasure.

What did amaze me, though, was how frank people are about having an eating disorder. Unlike alcoholics or drug addicts who will go to great pains to deny that they are in trouble, eating disorders are almost like a war wound – as in ‘I was bullied at school and comfort ate to make myself feel better’. Or ‘my mother put me on a diet at 10 and I’ve been vomiting on and off ever since to purge myself of the binges I was forced to go on’. Were I to say ‘I sank 2 double G&Ts then a bottle of wine home alone last night and awoke on the sofa with dribble on my chin and a hole in my sofa from an un-extinguished cigarette’ my friends would be signing me into the Priory forthwith or at least expressing deep concern for my state of mind. A girl who sits twiddling her fork in a side salad rather than ordering a main meal (and rushes to the ladies at the first opportunity) gets sympathy for her inability to eat like everyone else. The one falling off a bar stool at 11.30 on a Tuesday eve in Soho with her eyes rolling unattractively in her head is sneered at and scorned. At the end of the day, an unhealthy relationship with anything needs rectified, but the approach to it will vary enormously. Some people are intelligent and strong enough to handle someone needing to go into rehab. Others are only too quick to castigate them as weak-willed and self-pitying, whilst stuffing their face with a muffin which the laxatives they take later will surely expunge.

So what’s bothering me about this? Why should I care? Why does the uneven-handed treatment make me angry? After all, they are both sick in their own way, the problem drinker and the problem eater. I think what makes me most annoyed is that my family were so quick to judge someone who has fessed up to and is currently conquering a drink problem. Had my brother’s ex-wife been revealed as bulimic, my mother would have admired her skinny figure! If K didn’t have his alcohol issues, my mother would adore him as his thyroid condition results in him being exceptionally lean – ooh the irony. In other words, as long as it goes on behind closed doors, and doesn’t impact on their heavy-drinking lifestyle, he can have whatever issues he likes. That’s what’s got my goat!!!! Until Monday…

Who knows what tomorrow will bring...

Another lovely evening to myself and yep, another sober one. K is down in Southampton until at least the weekend, as his dad is still too unwell for decisions to be made. On the one hand I miss him massively, but on the other, the break is probably doing us both good.

Work is tedious, dull and slow beyond belief. I have been told to anticipate another 2 months of this as the summer is always slow. However, they have broached the subject of bringing things to an end sooner rather than later so if their nerve gives up, I may be job hunting again. Hey ho! C’est la vie and all that. I’ve done it before and I am sure that I will do it again! I’d rather not, as the CV could do with a break and I was hoping for a nice easy office job for a year so that I could contemplate retraining after hours as a masseur, but as they say: the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (or things can still screw up even when you have planned ahead, in other words!)

Anyway, until decisions are made, I continue to exist in limbo and have all the time in the world to concentrate on my favourite subject: namely ME! Ha ha. As such, I’ve been thinking about one of the other symptoms of stress addiction which is:

You are a perfectionist and have a negative coach residing in your head

Oh how very, very true! Take the last few evenings for example. Rather than just tackling the odd job and doing a bit of housework, I have to start pulling the place apart and doing a deep, spring-like clean!!! Instead of being able to say that at the very least, I’ve done some housework, sorted out some stuff and not wasted my time, I want K to return to a perfect home in the style of the ultimate domestic goddess and will stop at nothing to achieve it!!! It’s very, very tiring being me, you see!

I’ve already dealt with my negative coach, who never stops reminding me that I could be slimmer, friendlier, earn more money etc, so that much didn’t surprise me and as for perfectionism – anal and OCD are my middle names, for God’s sake. This is basically where my dilemma resides and is probably the crux of all my issues. Perfectionism is stressful, demanding and rarely obtainable. Not caring enough, however, is just unthinkable. What exactly is the middle ground? Where do you draw the line, so to speak between careless and bothered? When my acupuncturist mentions the 80/20 rule, how can you be sure you’re following it? When does it become 70/30 such that you need to redress the balance? What is the ultimate attitude to foster and who sets the boundaries? That’s enough to keep me awake tonight anyway!!!

I feel good and yeah, I knew that I would!!!

Had an excellent evening yesterday – my wee flat all to my splendid self!!! It’s a shame that something bad had to happen to give me my space as I am obviously pre-occupied with what K is going through in Southampton, but at the same time, it was a much-needed break. I did at least make a real effort too, not to go mental on my own!! I did a few things round the house but spent the majority of it on the sofa with trash on TV and pretty much revelled in it. Hmm, maybe I am making some progress after all!

Anyway, back to my stress addiction! I am most interested in the following symptom:

You are the sacrificial giver, playing the martyr

People-pleaser, martyr, whatever you want to call it, my apparent acts of self-sacrifice have come to define me – at least in my family’s eyes. My mother once commented that they felt like quacking every time I brought a boyfriend home, as I was severely afflicted by lame duck syndrome. Of course, her words are pretty poisonous but truth is many of my partners have, in some way, shape or form, been supported by me. My reason for never asking any of them to support me was simply that I hade been brought up by a mother who hammered home that I needed to be self-sufficient and never rely on a man. This I have done.

My parents have given me financial support along the way, as they saw fit, but only ever with the caveat that they expected a return on their investment! I, on the other hand, have always given unconditionally. That is simply my nature. I don’t expect anything and am pleasantly surprised when someone does do me a good turn. It’s far more self-preserving that way as you don’t end up disappointed very often – ha ha!! In turn, you have to write some things off as an unwise cause. My first long-term boyfriend ended up living off me for 2 years. Sure, I never got any money back but I did get to work out what sort of man I did/didn’t want, so he was a worthwhile investment albeit an expensive one! My next got himself banged up in jail after 6 months, giving me no choice but to end it. That said, his mother has assured me that he changed his life round after that as he saw what being a dick had lost him. That is all I ever needed to hear. K came to live me with me between jobs. He hasn’t, however, lived off me, only been offered help (on a loan basis) whilst it was needed. He had to survive alone when he was ill and when we met, was just getting back on his feet. Over the years he has made a fortune and lost it. He knows that money doesn’t bring you happiness and as part of recovery, he seeks a simple life with no trappings so that our future is solid and secure rather than precarious and materialistic. In this, he espouses my own values and neither of us consider giving (financially and emotionally) as being done in order to get something back.

To be a martyr, you need to sacrifice things and I don’t believe that I’ve ever sacrificed me for anyone else. I’ve spared a bit of me for them, but not to my own detriment. I also hope that I have given to friends as I have to partners. The only time that I have rectified an imbalance is when someone has been clearly taking me for a ride. It has happened and I can spot the signs and am strong and selfish enough to say ‘no more’. That said, it never hurts to review your relations and suss out if anyone is taking advantage of you. On that point, therefore, I don’t think I’m addicted, more susceptible!!

Drinking wise I am so close to the 2nd month anniversary that I am starting to get quite excited. It’s such a milestone and every day reinforces my belief that I have far more willpower than I have ever given myself credit for. I always told myself at the outset that I would fail (as I so often had before) or, as my parents would say ‘let myself down’. I set out on this one with a can-do attitude and it’s really paid off. No more self-sabotage for me. If millions of others can do it, well so the hell can I. I mentioned to K last night that I was proud of myself for NOT resorting to a bottle of wine on Sunday when things were incredibly tough. He claimed that he hadn’t even noticed but since I mentioned it, yes, it was clearly progress and he was pleased. He has to be so careful not to place any emphasis on my abstinence, coming as he does from his position, so wouldn’t normally bring it up without my mentioning it. Last night I had a tantalising moment passing the off-licence on the way home. How easy it would have been to slip in for a bottle and then hole up back at home with my stash – no K to see me, no-one to know and a night of getting obliterated. But I didn’t and am pleased as punch that my resolve stands. The feeling waking up knowing I have resisted the urge is far, far better than the inevitable hangover had I capitulated and indulged.

Testing, testing 1,2,3....

Had a lousy weekend. Even though I try my best to be ‘chipper’ about everything and look for a silver lining (however slim) on every cloud, this was one I’d rather write off to history. K’s dad ended up being rushed to hospital on Sunday morning after a fall and received an emergency blood transfusion. His carer found him and as K’s sister is on holiday in Spain, he is the only one in easy reach of Southampton. Not being one to wash my dirty linen in public (hmm, maybe that’s hypocrisy given my blog but what I mean is that I don’t go into stuff that does not need shared and does not relate to my challenge), we had a very stressful day.

K headed off to Southampton this afternoon, having put his ducks in a row at work, so all my thoughts and prayers are currently with him and his dad. It leaves me with some much needed breathing space, though, as I haven’t been alone much at all since K moved in last November. It’s only when it comes around that I am on my own at home, that I realise just how much I value my solitude from time to time. However, as soon as I get it I seem to go crazy, rather than putting my feet up and revelling in a long hot bath and my choice of music. Before K had even finalised plans to go down for the week, in my head I’d scheduled a run, loads of ironing, some cooking and a really good cleaning session in the living room. On a Monday and Tuesday evening, for God’s sake!!!!!!! It was then that I realised that I make my own stress, and am incapable of relaxing, which was one of the stress addict issues that I read last week. According to that, you are addicted if:

You feel guilty about relaxing and making time for yourself

So rather than digging out a book I’ve wanted to read, buying spa products or just making star shapes in a double bed (hee hee!), I have to fill the time he’s away constructively. Even more crazily, I actually considered cancelling the one person I am seeing this week on Wednesday, as it would be another eve on which I could do housework and run myself ragged!!! I’d love to say that tonight I will go home and have a relaxing and steady evening, and resist the urge to don my marigolds and hunt down my steam cleaner. Hell, no. In fact I popped a suit into the dry cleaners for him at lunch as it had been sat at home in a bag for 2 weeks. I couldn’t help myself. It’s like the major organisational side of me comes right out and the notion of being free to polish, tidy and work till I drop is too, too much to resist.

What drives me is the knowledge that a clean and tidy home makes me so, so happy. I am looking forward to standing in my wee kingdom and surveying the work I’ve done. Sure, I’ll be knackered and those books I haven’t read will still be gathering dust, but the question is, what brings me pleasure? If it’s the cleaning, then why not do it? If I am incapable of relaxing without surveying the room for jobs to be done, then I won’t relax, will I? God, it’s like a Catch 22 scenario and I’m none the wiser as to what to do to resolve it. K thinks I’m bonkers for asking for time to myself to clean. I can’t see what’s wrong with that as my choice of how to spend my time wisely and I do need the solitude for my sanity. K gets plenty of time alone as I tend to go out without him at least twice a week and he’s on flexi-time at work due to his eye troubles so frequently gets home mid-afternoon. I also pop out at weekends to see girlfriends and in general, I’m the one clawing the walls for some me-time. I have a job which is sociable and requires me to work for 3 people, all of whom have demands on my time. Sometimes being back in my flat with a pile of ironing and some crap TV and 3 hours of no-one else is utter, utter bliss.

However, I do need to question why I create such a maelstrom of activity for me to do when I am alone. Surely the answer would be a cleaning lady? Even on London wages it would be worth it if it gave me what I have now come to consider as truly free time, now I live with my beloved. Question is, can the control freak in me let that happen without spending hours cleaning and tidying before they arrive!!!

On the subject of not drinking, yesterday was the first truly traumatic time since my parents derailed my early attempt at sobriety. The wine was definitely beckoning as losing myself in a bottle of red would have felt like heaven. Forgetting all my stress and worry and blotting out the anxiety was never on the cards, though. I had to think about it and dismiss the idea, but it was no craving. It wasn’t even a mild lust, more of a fleeting thought. Progress. I can tackle life head on without reaching automatically for the nearest bottle. I suppose the test really comes tonight, the first time I am truly alone in 2 months. That’s when I can do as I wish and report what I like to the blog and the only person who knows better is me. Interesting…

Keep on running!

Was reading a really interesting article the other eve in one of my ‘women’s’ magazines. Actually, that is such a patronising way of describing them, as if women’s issues were somehow different/lesser to men’s in this context. As K tends to pilfer said magazines (and all men I know have always done) it’s clear that their advice is obviously sensible and useful for both sexes. Anyway, feminist rant over!!!

So anyway, the article was focussing on the subject of stress addiction, which I am inclined to believe could mean me. I’ve considered each of the indicators that suggest you are suffering from an addiction to adrenaline rushing stress and am dealing with them in turn. Today’s one is:

You perform your ‘to-do’ list with an unfocused mind, never fully present and always looking to the future, thinking about what’s next on your list.

This is quite, quite true. My to-do lists are reinvented on a regular basis, in the hope that a new one will suddenly inspire me to actually undertake all the things on there! It’s not so much the tasks that I can’t get interested in, as the constantly growing list which depresses me! No sooner have I completed one thing than my mind is already wandering to what needs doing next, either on the list or as a knock-on effect of doing the last task.

If someone thanks me for doing something, I’m always inclined to tell them what I didn’t do, than just accept the compliment. For example, if my colleague says ‘thanks for helping me with that – it’s so much faster when you upload things’ I reply ‘no problem, anytime. It’s nothing. That said, what I really ought to have done is install the software on your PC, but I’ve been very lax updating your machine and need to prioritise it with IT’ etc etc. So I am already talking about what I now need to do and what a failure I’ve been not to have done it yet rather than saying ‘yeah, job done. That should make your life easier’. I just can’t live in the ‘here and now’ and actually focus on what has been done. I also feel the need to constantly apologise for what I consider my failings, but what other people wouldn’t have even thought about.

Anyway, have a nice weekend to look forward to and a couple of ‘results’ from yesterday. Firstly, I got an email from my father which was totally out of the blue. I had sent him a birthday card on 1 June and heard nothing, so was starting to think that things were more dire between us than ever. However, he has obviously had time to think and with Father’s Day on Sunday had managed to compose a non-confrontational message; the first one since this whole sorry saga started that wasn’t having a dig at me. It was chatty and newsy and in my opinion, an olive branch. I felt elated and relieved that some progress had been made, albeit the first step in what I imagine will be a long, slow path to recovery. But it made K happy as he can see it makes me happy, so fingers crossed that my relations with them are set to improve. His relationship with them is not even up for offer, and I can totally understand that. It was killed stone dead last year, when my mother gave him a tirade down the phone which included the words leech and scum. However, he appreciates that they are my family, so even if our future relationship is only ever ‘passable’ and some things will never be reversed, it’s a start. Watch this space!!!
In addition, I went for my first run in months last night. I’d been wittering on that day to my colleague about not exercising and her response, which was more than fair, was to ‘just do it’ as Nike would say!!! So I did. I felt fantastic afterwards and still do today. It was the best thing I could have done and long may it last. Will update on my progress over the weekend on Monday as I am determined to get out for another run at some point and keep up the momentum.

The middle ground - in search of it!

I suppose I ought not to be surprised that giving up alcohol (a drug at the end of the day) has given me such mood swings. That said, I have obviously had good and bad moods in the past, but I am finding the extremes the hardest thing to manage. One day I am happy and bouncy and full of beans; the next I want to bite everyone’s heads off and am positively ‘manic’ in my behaviour.

I also suspect that replacing booze with caffeine is a factor. This certainly leaves me quite ‘wired’ in a way that I never was before. Instead of counteracting the doziness from a boozed-up night before, it now acts as a total stimulant. That said, I can’t resist my 3 cups in the morning, although I am very careful not to drink any after 11am.

The simple fact is, I am bored. A sober life is definitely more demanding than a permanently hungover one! Thoughts charge round my head now constantly and at 100 miles an hour. No sooner have I started considering one thing than my butterfly-like mind has moved on to the next. I actually think my ability to concentrate has got worse since I sobered up, not better. I flit from magazine to book, TV to radio and nothing has me engaged for very long. This morning I found myself on the train with The Guardian open on my lap, my blackberry in my right hand (I had just used it to google ‘cotton buds blocking drains’ and was waiting for a result!!!), looking out the window at Canary Wharf and considering in my head what I’d really like to say to my dad on Father’s Day!!!!

I am thinking about starting yoga again, though can’t go this weekend as K is off to Southampton to see his dad. As such, I have the flat to myself for 24 hours and am planning to spend every minute of it enjoying my sanctuary!! Even so, am not entirely convinced it is a cure for my pseudo-ADHD!!! I am also unable to motivate myself to go running again, which amazes me. Time was that running was something I never missed as it gave me breathing space and tired me out. I can’t blame K as he has done nothing to de-incentivise me, but my loss of willpower and organisation has coincided with him moving in. I used to run with a hangover as a great way to sweat out the toxins, so why I am avoiding it now is beyond me. I start the day with all good intentions, but when the time comes to put on my kit, I just can’t face it. The idea of taking it easy at home with my beloved instead is just too, too tempting!

So today I am in search of…equilibrium. That’s basically all there is to it. I want some balance, some routine, and above all, something to do at work!!! An idle Ilona is a very unhappy Ilona.

Facing up to fears....

Some days, I do actually thank the higher powers (can’t say Gods as I have never been religious and have failed to be converted over the years) that my life is as OK as it is. Yip, it has its ups and downs but, on the whole, it’s pretty good. That’s not to say that there isn’t always room for improvement, but perhaps if I actually listened to my gut instinct a bit more, I’d have even less on my plate to worry about.

I am convinced that many people ignore what their heart is telling them, and constantly plough on as if the nagging voices don’t exist. In my experience there are 2 types of people. On the one hand, there are those who would rather ask a ridiculous question that is clearly wrong, than risk not following up a lead in their head. Some would call them paranoid, pedantic or just plain irritating! On the other are those who would rather have knives stuck in them than ask awkward questions or face up to the inevitable and are the same ones who’d rather spend 10 minutes in a shop looking for something than ask an assistant.

I am in the latter camp. I know I often cut off my nose to spite my face, rather than just getting out of my comfort zone and asking someone. I simply find it impossible to display ignorance in front of anyone. I’d rather not do something than fess up that I don’t know. Funnily enough, I can see where alcohol came in handy here, as it loosened my tongue. It made me willing to show myself up as my crippling self regard was down. I could walk into any bar or shop with a few glasses inside me, and march up to concierges and receptionists without a care in the world, if I’d imbibed. Now I feel even more self-conscious than ever and shy away from anything that involves being strident.

Take last night. I now hate arriving places early on my own. I used to be blasé, having invariably been for an after-work drink or something to take the edge off it. Now I can’t bear it and try every trick in the book to meet friends elsewhere. The place in question is particularly awkward, as they won’t give you a table until your whole party has arrived but insist you ‘loiter’ in a bar beforehand. I kind of brought it on myself as I had suggested it as the ‘destination du jour’ having been there the other week. In a perverse way, I am probably trying myself out. As it happened, one girl could meet me early at Café Nero, which we did. I was therefore relieved to see that the restaurant (my nemesis!!) was heaving when we finally got there, so made swift decision to go to a restaurant I knew like the back of my hand that was just round the corner! It was a bit like standing at the top of the ski-run, daring myself to go for it, then backing off and talking the cable car down. So, in terms of guts and self worth I clearly have a long, long way to go.

Must mull this over as am sure I will have more to add tomorrow.