October is (not) shaping up to be fun…
SOMETHING in my life has got to change soon. I feel a bit like Patsy in Absolutely Fabulous, washed up, worn out, confused and constantly drunk.
Since I can't afford rehab, I have signed up for Stoptober (31 fag-free days in a row) and something called Go Sober for October (a month long booze-less adventure) simultaneously. Without Go Sober for October (which is fun to say, but not so fun to do) Stoptober would be a joke, because the minute I have a drink in my hand my willpower is weaker than a baby gosling's wing, more unsteady than the shaky legs of a new born foal, so I'm going cold turkey. It's all or nothing, now or never and I'm scared because if you take away the drink and cigarettes I'm not sure what's left.
I treat my last night of boozing the same way a gangster treats their last night of freedom before getting banged up in jail. Not so much with the prostitutes and drugs, but I certainly don't hold back on giving the drink a good send-off.
I start by drinking the fridge dry, then a friend comes over and we (mainly me) drink everything she has brought too. When she wants to leave I beg her to stay, like the pitiful, worthless booze-hound I am, but she goes home anyway, probably making a mental note: 'Must not turn out like that one'.
Undeterred and very tipsy, I text a boy and say something along the lines of 'You can come over and sleep in my bed but only if you bring a bottle of wine'.
Now do you see why I need Stoptober?
After only two nights of sobriety, I come home from work a little stressed out and automatically open the fridge looking for beer. There's none, because I drank it all on September 30th.
So instead of drinking, I cook vegetables and eat them, do several loads of washing, iron a bundle of clothes that has been sitting in the corner of my room for months, clean the bathroom, declutter my wardrobe and then decide it's time for bed. I look at my watch. It's 9pm. It's going to be a very long month.