Day 92 If Sleeping was an Olympic Sport....

If Sleeping was an Olympic sport, then I would surely be a medal contender. At least over the last few weeks.

Every evening I find myself clock watching, not for wine o'clock any more but

"Is is too early to go to bed yet......it's nearly nine o'clock..." 

My husband is quite amused by all this, it used to be him in bed and snoring before me - because I was otherwise occupied  'just tidying up" - i.e. finishing off any wine.

Sometimes I would wake up on the couch, in the same position that I had passed out, hours before, the TV still on. Sometimes my husband would wake up and come and get me - or so he told me, most times I don't recall.

Now, I am tucked up as soon as possible, with a book (I've lost all interest in TV), and I read until I'm sleepy, sometimes even before my husband comes to bed.

I sleep for about nine or ten hours lately. I know some of it is P.A.W.S, but in some weird way, I think I'm making up for decades when I have felt constantly tired.

My ex-husband used to complain that I snored. But only if I was facing a certain way, or on my back. In the first years, he found it endearing, but as the rest of our relationship deteriorated, he found it irritating and annoying. I would try and wait until he fell asleep, so I could relax and drift off, all too often I would get a sharp poke in the ribs and a hiss in my ear...

"Move over!" . 

In the end he couldn't stand sleeping with me, the same way I couldn't stand to eat with him - how did I not notice the slurping sounds he made when he was eating?

Sometimes I was so tired that I used to take the afternoon off work without telling him, so I could sneak home and nap in peace.

After we broke up, and wine was my evening companion - I no longer slept, I passed out. I woke up in the early hours most mornings, dehydrated, sheets sweaty, my dogs piled on the bed.
Some nights, to avoid waking up in a chair with my neck aching, I would even take the wine to bed with me, so in the morning, the acrid stale alcohol stench wasn't just coming from my breath and my pores.

My habits improved considerably when I met my husband. We both laughed about snoring - he rumbles all night like an engine, and after decades of grabbing power naps on a fish boat in torrential rain, my "purring" as he calls it doesn't disturb him at all.

The wine glass disappeared from my bedside table, and the dogs were banished from the bedroom too, but my sleep patterns were still dictated by my alcohol consumption.

I was still chronically tired.

When I finally put down the bottle, it took several weeks to adjust.

Firstly, I found it almost impossible to drift off. My brain was whirring, my body was restless without the chloroform effects of alcohol in my system.

Gradually over the last couple of weeks, my body finally trusts that this alcohol free state is permanent and the new normal and has rewarded me with the prize that has alluded me for most of my adult life -

A healthy night's slumber.

xx

Day 90 - Not My Circus....Not My Monkeys....

Yay! Day 90!

One huge benefit to this sober thing, is the ability to deal with the daily "drama" that life throws at you without  1. Overreacting to it and 2. Contributing to it

Today is not only day 90 of sobriety for me, but also Day 11 of BF#2's visit.

My patience is wearing thin, and although I have not even thought about running for wine, I have been locking myself away in my office, with a note on the door that says

"Working. Do not disturb unless you have coffee".

Inside the office, you can hear me chanting..

"Not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys"

Here's a small excerpt  of the daily drama....


Dramatic Scene 1.  WB, Mr.WB, BF#1, Mrs BF#1 and BF#2 sit around pretend camp fire.

BF#1, obnoxiously drunk, refers to Mrs BF#1 by his ex-wife's name. An awkward silence, as Mrs BF#1 exits the scene stage left, muttering "I've had enough of this F**king bullshit"
BF#1 follows, raised argumentative voices....fading out...
WB exits stage right, goes to bed to read book (about Mrs Thatcher, actually it's quite good)

Dramatic Scene 2. 

 Dusk.WB, Mr WB & BF#2 arrive home from pub (WB driving the truck, as Mr.WB begins to appreciate the benefits of her sobriety)
Arrive in the driveway to hear raised voices (more like screams) from next door, as very drunk BF#1 and Mrs. BF#1 duke it out on their deck.
WB exits stage right, goes to bed to read book. (I didn't know that Mrs Thatcher had a sister! Muriel!)

Dramatic Scene 3.

WB in bed with Mrs Thatcher.
Loud knock on the front door. Crying and sobbing can be heard from Mrs BF#1 as it becomes apparent that BF#1 has gone on a drunken rampage in his truck!! WTF??
She wants one of us to drive around looking for him.

Sounds like a really bad idea!!

WB (realizing that she is the only one who is stone cold sober, and therefore the only candidate for the proposed rescue expedition, hurriedly turns off the light and shoves Mrs Thatcher under the covers)

Stay tuned for more dramatic, alcohol-fuelled scenes...



I am so thankful that I am no longer drinking. Apart from a few days of PAWS, I have managed to stay calm and keep my sense of humour.

Every so often though, if you listen carefully, you can hear me chant under my breath "not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys...."

Have a wonderful Friday,

WB xx

Go with the Flow...

The definition of happiness - a boat that works. I heard just heard the sweet sound of the new diesel motor, and I know that soon, very soon, the boat will be out of my driveway, and in it's rightful place, the ocean...yay!
And of course, my husband is ecstatic, as are BF#1 and BF#2 and all the random people who seemed to have shown up over the last few days.
I am happy for them.
Funnily enough, although they are delighted at the sound of a working engine, there has been a happy buzz around the place, along with earnest discussion, as they have replaced the motor, re-wired the boat, and countless other jobs that have kept them busy from dawn to dusk.

And if got me thinking.....

A long time ago, after I had left education, and was working in a soul-sucking job for a property development company based in Weybridge, I started studying Psychology via the Open University just for the hell of it. (Actually, I had to do something to stop my brain from atrophying).

I really enjoyed the course, and one of the texts that we had to read, stayed with me (somewhere I have the copy of the book)

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I know) researched happiness. He found (along with many other researchers) that after a certain level of material well being has been reached, no further increase in material wealth will increase our level of happiness.

His research, firstly with creative people such as artists and musicians, and then further research with factory workers, found that we are most happy when we reach a "flow" state.

Very simply, a flow state is when you are so absorbed in your activity that you don't notice the time, you don't realize that you have missed a meal....you are totally and utterly in the zone...

And this state could be achieved, even if the work, on the face of it, is mundane and repetitive.

My husband and his friends have achieved this flow state over the last few days working on the boat.

Wine robs you of this.

Wine makes it impossible for you to achieve this amazing state of flow. Because your brain (on wine) is more concerned with it's next fix, not the activity at hand.

When I think of all those Saturday afternoons, when I had finished cleaning and laundry - I had fleeting thoughts of pulling out my writing, working on my business, working in the garden....doing anything that would get me into that zone of happiness......

But instead, I numbed those thoughts with wine, I drifted into a different zone of nothingness...

Very gradually, I have managed to return to a flow state. I more often find myself working and forgetting the time, and being really cheerful about it.

The irritating P.A.W.S gets in the way some days, but I know over time, those restless days will become less and less.

Some day soon.......the Flow of Happiness.....will have totally replaced the Zone of Nothingness.

Beer & Wine Store

I went into a Beer & Wine store today. ( UK & US friends, here in Canada, you can't buy alcohol in a supermarket or grocery store, there are designated stores with licences for that).

I did it without thinking. I purchased a six pack of beer for the guys who are working on a boat which is sat in my driveway (hopefully, for not much longer).

I paid for the beer and left.

It wasn't until I was out of the store and driving home, that I realised I hadn't even checked out the wine section. I just got what I wanted, paid for it and left. Like a "normal" person on a "normal" shopping errand.

Buying wine used to be a stressful experience. Driving home I would negotiate with myself -

"You don't need wine, you had wine last night"
"But today was stressful"
"Just have a cup of tea tonight"
"But we're having halibut, it's so much nicer with white wine"
"If you don't have wine tonight, you can have wine tomorrow"
"But I want it now!"

And so on.

Then I would get self conscious about the store I was buying from. I always tried not to buy wine from  the same store two days in a row because I imagined that the check-out people were judging me.

So I would change my route home accordingly.

Then, once inside the store, I would have another dilemma - one bottle or two?

If I bought just one, then I might have to share. So I usually bought two.

Towards the end of my slide, it was easy to buy two, because I switched to white wine. My husband doesn't drink white wine, so I would buy red for him. And then it was win-win, because I could drink the whole bottle of white, and then finish the red because there was no way my husband would ever drink the whole bottle.

Sometime I would make a feeble attempt at conversation with the check-out person-
 "This is a new one - is it popular?"

As if I was some kind of wine journalist doing research.

The whole experience used to make me feel anxious and guilty.

Then I would do the daily dance with my husband....

Husband :"You bought wine?"
Me "Yes, it's been a long day" - defensively, waiting for a negative comment......

I didn't notice until today, this one more piece of stress that has been eliminated from my life.

I guess it's like banging your head against a wall - it's nice when it stops!

Should I Jump off a Bridge?

As this heat wave continues, I am relying heavily on chilled AF beer and a daily swim in the river.

This would never have happen when drinking wine. Last year, it was just as hot, but because I was half way down a chilled bottle of wine most afternoons, I couldn't be bothered to move from my deckchair in the shade. A swim would have cut into my drinking time.

This year, as the drought has continued, we've moved farther and farther up the river to find more refreshing water holes, where the river is still running fast from the top of the mountain.

To get to the river each day, we have to pass the Bungee Zone.

Years ago, local Island people started the Bungee Zone - hurling themselves off a old trestle bridge for fun - and very soon, it became a local attraction. People would actually pay to do this.
This "attraction" is literally a five minute walk from our driveway, and yet I have never bothered to investigate.

In my mind, I have had this image of three or four guys with a rope on top of a bridge - "Here, hold my beer, watch this...."

Last year, a large American company took over operations - and the Bungee Zone became "Wild Play"

And if there is one thing that Americans do superbly (there are many things of course, my lovely American friends) it's Theme Parks.

Five minutes from my home - just a short walk - is the most amazing outdoor theme park....and I never knew!

After our swim today, my unexpected guest (see yesterday's post) asked to stop in at Wild Play, because she wanted to do a bungee jump. She had done a lot of research and was really excited that we lived right next door to this world class attraction!!

Very soon my embarrassment turned to awe, as we walked through a beautifully coiffured park, and high up in the trees, people were ziplining and whooping with excitement.

Wild play has an assortment of attractions for all age groups. Rock climbing, Zip Lining, Bungee Jumping, obstacle courses......who knew?

I didn't. And last year I didn't care. 87 days ago I didn't care.

As I watched my guest drop off a bridge into the chasm over the river - screaming with excitement - I was so grateful that I have finally emerged from my self-imposed cocoon.

And maybe, I thought......just maybe......I might jump off the bridge myself.

xx.

Boundaries.

I moved into my husband's home and sold mine when we decided to get married. It was a practical decision, I had been living in his home just about full time anyway.

Mr WB had been a bachelor for about 15 years, since his divorce.

When I moved in, I was reluctant to be one of "those women" who insist on changing everything (although I had to clean the grime, and ask him to move the fishing rods and tackle boxes out of the bedroom)

One thing that did and still bothers me is that we have a revolving door of people who just think it's OK to drop in and stay.
Mr WB's friends would often drive by the house early in the morning, see the truck parked, and drop in for coffee.
  
I know that maybe it's the British in me, maybe it's a cultural thing, but I get irritated when I am in the middle of something, and I have to stop and visit, and be polite.

When I was drinking lots of wine, an impromptu interruption in the afternoon just meant that I started drinking earlier. The rest of the day was wiped out.

Obviously, I didn't get a lot done.

It was a double-edged sword - the visits were annoying, but on the other hand, they gave me (or so I rationalized) an excuse to start on the wine earlier.
Consequently, no boundaries were ever put in place - as far as people were concerned, our home was "open house" - kind of like "Cheers" , the place where everyone knows your name.

Now I am no longer drinking - I am struggling with this and it's become a source of tension.

Today, it all came to a head.

As you are aware, Mr' WB's friend is staying (we've already had plenty of drama - another blog post is on it's way).

And today, BF#2's daughter is joining him. I wasn't told until today. I don't know this lady. No one asked me if it was OK. No one asked me if it was convenient.

Because it was always OK before.

It caused an argument. I didn't handle it well.

It's highlighted the dilemma of change to a sober life - as we start to feel comfortable with this new life, and start to make changes, our environment and our social circles are sometimes slower to adapt. 




P.S. its about five hours since I wrote this. And reading it back, I sound pretty whiny and self absorbed - someone came to visit and didn't ask - poor me! I am not usually such a miserable cow. I did rescue the day, and we had a nice evening with BF#2's daughter. I am just grateful that I am sober, and I didn't allow my grouchy mood to spiral out of control - which would have happened if I was drinking wine. Tomorrow is a new day.

Day 84 -The Pretend Camp Fire.

We are having an exceptionally dry summer. (Dry, as in lack of rain. Also "dry" for me too).

The fire risk has meant a camp fire ban.

Camp fires are part of the Canadian psyche, I have observed - at least in this part of Canada.
They are the Canadian equivalent of the cosy British pub hearth.

They are at the centre of social gatherings, even if you are not camping.

We have a fire pit in our garden. It hasn't been lit at all this year. Yet, most evenings, we sit outside around the non existent fire.

It's been really pleasant. I putter around in my greenhouse,  pull out weeds from my vegetable garden and then sparingly water, hoping to keep everything alive for another month. Then I too, sit around the pretend fire and drink AF beer.

We have my husband's friend staying with us BF#2 ( see Sins of the Fathers) and the visit was going quite well until yesterday evening, when BF#1 turned up with his spouse (they live next door).

We were all sitting round the empty fire pit. I was drinking my AF beer (no one notices or cares, which is nice), my husband was having a cider, and BF#2 was also drinking cider, and was quite sober (so far, no sign of strewn empty vodka bottles, phew).

BF#1 was completely hammered. His language was getting offensive. ( I live with a fisherman/logger so I am not a prude, but there are some words that I can't tolerate, and my husband moderates his language depending on the company).

BF#1 's nickname is "F**king Whatnot" as this is the phrase that he concludes most sentences with. (Usually when he is drunk, I don't really hear what he is saying because I am too occupied with counting how many times he says this phrase).

When he started to refer to my husband as "the f**king Indian" , I could feel my temper heating up.

BF#1's spouse concluded the evening however.

BF#1, in his drunken state, started calling her by his ex-wife's name.

It was then that I was relieved that there was no camp fire. Otherwise BF#1 would have been roasting slowly over it.

BF#2 said....."Poor F**king Whatnot. He's not a happy camper"

 .......as we watched our neighbours stumble down the hill, sounds of marital discord floating up on the summer evening breeze.