Funny that – used the search function on the archive for a Swedish TV channel to see if there might be some interesting documentary or something around alcoholism and addiction, and all they had is a series called ‘Skam’. Translation: ‘shame’. Perhaps that’s all I needed to learn today? Pretty accurate, if you ask me.
I hate to sound like that whiny Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City, but it got me thinking. Isn’t it so stupid how we view addiction? We split it up in categories. Clare Pooley (Sober Mummy here in the blogosphere and author of The Sober Diaries) gave a Ted talk that highlighted this. Take another legal drug, nicotine. You stop smoking and to the rest of the world you are a hero. Nicotine we all know to be bad, and you are ever so good when you stub out that filthy habit. Right? Compare this with alcohol abuse. Stop drinking and 1) you have to explain why, and 2) there must be something wrong with YOU. This drives me mad! It’s so very true – it’s the only drug you have to justify NOT taking and if you have a problem with it, the assumption seems to be that you are inherently bad or weak somehow.
Yes, I do absolutely believe that there is something about how I’m wired that made me more likely to develop alcoholism. Actually, scrap ‘believe’ – I know it’s different because I can see it! It’s blatantly clear that what happens when I drink is entirely different to what happens when e.g. Hubby drinks. This weekend he did that thing again that confuses the hell out of me. We headed down to south Devon for a random weekend escape and after a trip on a steam train, we found a pub to watch the rugby. During the couple of hours we were there, Hubby had three pints. It was raining so we headed back to the B&B for a while before dinner.
Now this is probably a little strange, but even though I don’t at all want to drink I seem to go into Anna-mode when Hubby does and become super aware of what I might perceive as his drinking needs. Hence, I suggested we get some wine or a couple of beers to take back because in my formerly wine soaked world there is nothing worse than breaking the flow. Come on, that’s just agony, no? Nah. I think he even asked me why. I scrunched up my nose and again tried to figure out what actually goes on in the mind of a normal person, but as usual I just couldn’t understand it. Back at the little guesthouse, we spent an hour looking through photos we’d taken, watched some of another rugby game on TV and googled the best restaurant in Paignton and booked a table. Dude’s totally calm and apparently completely unaffected by this. If anything, I felt a little restless. Headed out and over the best meal I’ve had this year, Hubby had a couple of glasses of wine. And that was it. I’m calm and content because the Beast doesn’t have its claws into me, and Hubby is calm and content because he’s immune to the Beast. Got back, did what people in love do and then fell asleep.
The next day the sun was out and we headed out for a walk along the sea front. I just had to ask him because I just don’t understand how that stuff feels! All I know is that when I drink, something in me comes alive that I cannot stop or control, this insane compulsion that I cannot stop. I assume it’s how I feel when I……. Oh holy crap, I’m struggling to think of something I do in moderation and end up feeling “that’s enough, thank you” about. I eat like a truck driver and drink coffee like a demon, there are actually very few areas of my life where I apply that thing the Swedes call ‘lagom‘ = not too much, not too little: just right. Water!! WATER! I can moderate fucking water! If I’m thirsty and drink some water, I definitely hit a pleasant point where I have had enough and I’ve just had enough to quench my thirst. I don’t keep on gulping water beyond the point that I’m just nicely satisfied. So that’s what it must be like for a non-alkie to my mind.
“So those three pints you had,” I put to him as we strolled past little beach huts and souvenir stalls, “you would have had enough to feel what, a bit tipsy?”
“Not really, just like feeling I’ve had a drink,” Hubby replied.
“But enough to get you going, right?” I insisted.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So when we went back to the hotel, you didn’t want to go on drinking?”
“This is so weird for me! At that point, when you’ve had a few and sort of got into it, are you saying there’s no part of you that really wants to go for it?” I asked, both curious and confused because to me that violent desire to guzzle is so overpowering I can’t imagine not feeling that way after a drink.
“Just no? Nothing? Doesn’t it aggravate you to stop?”
“OK, so…” I searched for new words to ask the same thing, “in that moment you don’t feel any urge to keep going? You can literally take it or leave it and it doesn’t stress you out?”
To Hubby, this was all so obvious that there weren’t anything other that one-word answers. It’s just how it is for him. To me, it’s bewildering because I just can’t imagine how that feels, how it’d be possible to feel the way after a glass of wine as I do after a glass of water. No, I don’t wish that were me. Is that strange? Surely the the greatest wish for me, as an alcoholic, would be that I could drink like a normal person? I don’t. Once the illusion of booze shattered and I saw no benefit to drinking anymore, this went right out of the window. I’ve said it before, if someone offered me a pill that’d enable me to drink the way Hubby can I honestly wouldn’t bother. That’s neither here nor there though, the point is I find it really fascinating to hear him describe what happens when he drinks, which of course is seemingly very little.
In other news, life at rehab goes on and I had my first observation today. I’ve done observations several times now but this time it was me who was observed. Not due to a risk of seizures or self harm but giving the clients their medication. I’ve watched it done many times now and this was the second and third time (breakfast and lunch) that I did it myself. As we were doing the handover for other staff coming on shift, Work-Hubby turned to me and suggested I do it. As luck would have it, Beethoven (who is the manager) joined and it was down to me to talk through each client’s mood and updates. I don’t actually know if I did well or really badly but I did my best, and guess what? That’s good enough. Shockingly, I didn’t get nervous – what the hell is THAT about? I mean, not even a little. My cheeks didn’t burn and my heart didn’t race, nor did my voice tremble. I just did it to the best of my ability and felt completely relaxed about it, intimidation levels firmly at zero. I like Sober Me – she’s quite a cool chick.
Well. Hubby is on his way home and I really need to head out for a run – it’s been two weeks! I got struck down with the cold from hell and last week was just too busy and exhausting, but now need to get my arse in gear again. I can really tell the difference – I end up feeling really sluggish when I don’t exercise.
Today I’m not going to drink.