The last cider

I have a can of Flat Tyre in the fridge for tonight.

This would be a normal aspect of a Saturday night for me, so normal that it’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t even bother mentioning on my blog, not usually.

But it’s not a normal can of Flat Tyre, not to me.  It’s the very last Flat Tyre, the very last cider, and the very last alcoholic drink that I will ever have.  I’m going to explain why.

As such, this is going to be a long one.  But then, it’s a long story.

It was late summer 2004 when someone first told me I had an alcohol problem.

A few weeks earlier, I had suffered a complicated nervous breakdown due to a year of undiagnosed mental health problems coming to a head.  The end result was that my parents sent me to the GP, and I walked out with a clinical depression diagnosis and a list of referrals to more specialised mental health services.

There were so many specialists I went to see that it’s difficult to remember them all now, but they were all adamant that I couldn’t be treated unless I also got help for this alcohol problem I apparently had.  As you might guess, I didn’t see myself as having a ‘problem’ at all.

I had been a messy teenage drunk for several years – I had discovered the buzz that drinking too much gives you when I was about thirteen, and as my friends and I started to look old enough to get served in pubs, it became routine to spend the weekends binge-drinking, often to the point we would vomit and black out.  But that was normal, right?  All teenagers did that, or so it seemed.  I’m sure this particular brand of teenage idiocy was ubiquitous at the time, but it was especially prevalent in Scotland, where the culture normalised it so much.  We were Scots, and Scots were notorious for being able to drink all those other nations under the table.  (We were no cop at team sports, so we had to take pride in something.)

When I started university at seventeen in 2002, the binge-drinking weekends became binge-drinking weeks.  University culture involves societies, and societies do all their business on weekday evenings, and all of that business is done in the pub.  Being a shy person, and finding myself in a position of having to make new friends by myself for the first time since I’d started primary school in 1989, I felt I needed the extra Dutch courage.  Furthermore, being wholly in charge of keeping myself fed and watered for the first time, I found I was running out of money earlier in the month than I would have liked, and so I got into the habit of eating less so I could drink more.  I had enough energy that I was just about making it to classes – most of the time – but it became normal to me to feel constantly ill due to the drunk/hungover cycle.

However, I was still immersed in a hybrid of cultures that normalised this kind of drinking, and so when my psychotherapist referred me to the Alcohol Problems Unit at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, neither I nor anyone I knew really took it seriously.  I’d fallen into a comfortable role as ‘the drunk one’ in every friend group, and so I was used to treating the whole thing as a joke.  I vaguely tried to follow the advice I was given – which was to alternate alcoholic drinks with soft drinks – but as soon as I had one alcoholic drink, I wanted another, and soft drinks just seemed like a waste of time.  I attended the APU (sporadically – I would often miss appointments due to being hungover) between late 2004 and early 2006, and yet my 2005 diary, where I recorded my daily intake (the Bridget Jones influence was strong with me at that point) is frightening.  Almost half of my entries are written in my drunk handwriting, and I was averaging about 100 units a week.

2005 diary
‘V+O’ = vodka and orange. I measured it in eggcups because the APU doctor had told me I needed to measure it out rather than just sloshing it into the glass, and eggcups were the only thing I could find in the house for measuring. I also smoked a lot of cigarettes and weed when I was out, which was almost every night. SO HEALTHY.

After I got together with Geth in late 2005, things didn’t improve.  He liked a drink as much as I did, and he was also fond of big weekends – Six Nations rugby weekends, weekends away in London, music festivals.  All of these basically constituted hardcore weekend benders – there are many festivals and rugby days that I don’t actually have any memory of, and my memory is really good – and that was our lifestyle for a good decade plus.

Post-festival Facebook post
31 Somersby ciders equals 80.6 units in a single weekend, and that’s not even counting all the spirits and mixers we would have as nightcaps. Music festivals were always like that.

Furthermore, when I graduated from university in 2008, I quit smoking (meaning alcohol became my only stress-relieving drug), stopped having a reason to walk anywhere, and so started piling on weight.  This just meant that I had a greater tolerance for alcohol, so I ended up drinking more, and putting on more weight, and the cycle continued.

Coupled with the weight gain, my becoming more of a hermit – I couldn’t find a traditional job after graduation and so I ended up gradually building my own business, meaning I’ve mostly worked from home since then – meant that I became even more shy, and so unfamiliar social situations felt impossible.  Whenever I had to face one of these – such as a job interview, or joining a new exercise class – I would down a few ciders before I left the house to get rid of the nerves.  This was probably the one aspect of my drinking that I knew wasn’t ‘normal’, and so I would hide the bottles in order that Geth wouldn’t realise what I was doing.  When he was away at work conferences, I would switch to vodka so that I could drink late into the early hours by myself without having to worry about running out of alcohol.  On these occasions, I would often get through two-thirds of a bottle per night.

I still didn’t see myself as having a problem.  In 2011, I gave up alcohol for Lent, and I thought that managing not to drink for six weeks proved that I had a healthy relationship with booze.  But every time I had to tell a counsellor or a doctor what my average weekly intake was (which I always deliberately underestimated), they would look at me with absolute horror.  I’m not sure why this never bothered me.  I suppose in your twenties, you’re still hanging onto a sliver of that youthful feeling of immortality that caused you to pick up bad habits in the first place.  Either way, I had no desire or plan to cut down on my drinking at that point.

But in 2015, the year I turned thirty, three things happened.

First of all, after I moved to Newcastle, I (obviously) had a new GP.  I don’t always like going to see my GP in Newcastle, as he doesn’t sugarcoat things.  He’s the first GP I’ve ever had who I think may actually be my age if not younger than me (one of those signs that you’re getting old), and he really makes me work hard to explain why I still need my antidepressants at my annual review, which can be distressing.  The first time I went for one of these reviews and had to estimate how many units I was getting through per week, rather than doing the usual doctorly ‘you know, you should really think about cutting down’, he flatly told me that I’d end up with liver disease within fifteen years if I kept drinking the way I was.  While I still believed that genetics were on my side with that one – my mum has a fairly frequent wine intake and a very healthy liver – it was the first doctor’s comment on the subject that ever stuck with me.

Secondly, I started running.  I run in the mornings, and you can’t run with a bad hangover (well, you can, but it’s not pleasant), so heavy drinking nights before run days were out.

Thirdly, the running – much to my surprise and disgruntlement – was not causing me to lose weight.  I ran (very slowly, due to my near-constant joint pain) all through the second half of 2015, then all through 2016, culminating in my first half marathon in September 2016.  Despite this, in the autumn of 2016 I was back up to my highest weight, and so I decided to join Slimming World in the new year.

Slimming World is the most manageable way of healthy eating I’ve ever tried, which is why I’m still doing it two years later, but it is fairly strict about the amount of syns you’re allowed to have, and alcohol contains a lot of syns.  It quickly became apparent that I couldn’t keep drinking the way I had been if I was going to follow the plan properly – my weekly alcohol intake pre-Slimming World probably amounted to about 400 syns by itself, and you’re only supposed to have 105 in a week.

As such, I immediately cut down a lot.  I saved up syns for special occasions like weddings and festivals where I would ‘need’ to drink a lot of alcohol, and if I planned a weekend evening where I was going to have a couple of ciders at home, I made sure to time the start of drinking so that I would only have time for two drinks before bed.  If I mistimed it, I would end up having more.  It simply didn’t occur to me to stop drinking after finishing the two ciders that I’d planned.  It’s kind of awkward to explain, sitting here typing this out while sober, but when I’m a couple of drinks down, it feels like the most imperative, important thing in the world that I have another one.

(This is another thing that I just never saw as a problem for many years, simply because it’s so normalised – Geth always refers to the state of having had a couple of drinks and wanting to continue drinking as being ‘warmed up’, and so that’s how I always thought of it.)

As I lost the weight, while I felt healthier than I had done in years, I also found that alcohol was starting to affect me more strongly as my body mass went down and my tolerance with it.  Since I’d started taking antidepressants in 2004, I’d been told by doctors that I shouldn’t drink with them because it would negate the effect of the pills, but again, this was just something that went straight over my head.  After I hit target in May 2018, I found that even one or two drinks would often lower my mood to near-suicidal levels.  It’s very hit and miss – sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I’m really not – and throughout the second half of the year, as my mental health declined for unrelated reasons and the bad experiences became more frequent than the times it was okay, I realised that I would have to stop.  Not ‘for now’, not for Dry January, not for a few months or even a year, but for good.

As such, I spent Christmas finishing all the cider that Mum and Dad had kept for me at their house, and observing the way it was affecting me in a safe environment with lots of people around.  I had a lot of unhappy, melancholy thoughts over the holidays, just like I always do, but for the first time, I was able to understand how alcohol was contributing to that.

I love cider.  But my health is more important, and I’ve finally realised that due to mental health issues I’m not capable of functional, healthy alcohol use.

I’m terrified of giving up in some ways.  I’m scared about how it will affect my relationships with people with whom I will no longer be ‘drinking buddies’.  I’m scared about how I will feel the first time I catch sight of a new cider that I never got to try.  I’m scared about all the things I want to do in my life that I’ve always believed I would never be able to attempt without a few drinks in me.

But, because I’ve made this decision, I’m also feeling more positive about things than I have in years.  I’m looking forward to disengaging with all the stress around timing my drinking and worrying about what I said and did when I was drunk.  I’m looking forward to being able to focus in the evenings.  I’m excited about being able to use my syns for other things.

Tomorrow is my first day as a sober person.  I am hopeful that it will be the start of a more peaceful existence.

Clean house therapy

I hate cleaning, but as I didn’t have time to do it during my month-long busy work period, the house was a pigsty by the end of last week.  What’s more, we’ve got people in the house who aren’t us at various points over the next few weeks, so today I just gritted my teeth and got on with it.  The house is clean and tidy now, and I feel so much better for it.

Generally, clutter and mess really depress me, so in an ideal world I would just clean the house once a week in order to keep on top of it and keep my surroundings pleasant and comforting.  However, sometimes there just isn’t the time, and as a result my mood drops, often without me realising why.

Having cleaned, I feel so much better tonight than I have done all week!  I’d feel even better if the house was properly finished in terms of the piles of boxes that are still unpacked, but that’s still a few months away.  One step at a time.

2018 Ciders #16: Thistly Cross Whisky Cask

Due to spending the second week of my Christmas holiday in Edinburgh not drinking much (partly due to an alarmingly big gain at Slimming World after the first week and partly because my brain wasn’t coping with the booze very well, hence my decision to do Dry January), when I left to go home to Newcastle there was still a large undrunk quantity of the Thistly Cross cider that my parents had bought in preparation for my visit.  They kindly brought some of it down with them when they visited earlier this month, which was highly appreciated.

Thistly Cross Whisky Cask
Thistly Cross Whisky Cask.

Whisky Cask is my second favourite of the Thistly Cross varieties (and would probably be top if Ginger weren’t so rare and hard to find).  The whisky taste is gorgeous and really gives the cider a delicious richness.  I’m not a huge fan of whisky itself but I love this.  One of my all-time favourites.

Reflections on Dry January

Because it’s currently one of those weird transition times in life for me (everything is in flux due to the house move), January has sort of both flown and dragged at the same time.  Not drinking for the month has been a lot easier than expected, but it’s felt different than expected, too.

Last time I went for a substantial period of time without alcohol (Lent 2011), I spent the whole time being irritated that I couldn’t drink when I was out or visiting people, making sure to try as many alcohol-free versions of beer and cider as I could find, and impatiently counting down the days till Easter, when I would be able to drink again.  This time round has been a completely different experience, and I suppose that’s partly because my life has changed a lot without me realising.  I don’t go out to pubs or round to people’s houses anywhere near as much as I did in my mid-20s, mostly because I’ve relocated twice in the intervening period and have maintained a much more pared-down social life than when I lived in my hometown.  As such, I’ve only been out once in January (post-birthday, that is), to a dinner party, and I found I didn’t miss drinking while socialising at all.  I’ve had no interest in alcohol-free fake booze, either – this is mainly due to being on Slimming World, as fake booze would just amount to useless extra syns when I’ve got perfectly good syn-free fizzy flavoured water to drink.

The biggest difference, though, is that I’ve not been itching to get back to drinking again, or really missing it much at all.  I think there are a few reasons for this:

1. Not drinking is actually a more stable thing for me in terms of stress/anxiety levels

Obviously, it’s an extra-stressful time at the moment, and usually I’d deal with that by having a few ciders in the evening.  What I found over Christmas, though, was that drinking was actually leading to more stress and anxiety the next day, which was the main reason I decided to give Dry January a try.  While it’s sometimes felt a bit frugal/miserable to be spending weekend evenings without a drink, on the whole I think not drinking has been better for my mental state.

2. I feel healthier

Over Christmas, having even a couple of drinks every night, coupled with all the extra food I was eating, was making me feel ill.  It’s nice to have avoided that sluggish/bloated/hungover feeling for a while.

3. My evenings have been more productive

I started the year with a lot of New Year Resolutions, mostly pertaining to daily habits like writing and keeping up with hobbies, and I’m pleased to say that I’ve been sticking to them.  It’ll be interesting to see if this feels harder on an evening when I’m drinking alcohol.

4. I’m not doing the ‘was I drunk when I did/said that?’ dance

Well, that’s not quite true – I have caught myself doing it a few times, and then realised I couldn’t possibly have been drunk, because I’ve not drunk alcohol all month, obviously.  This has been a) eye-opening – I’m surprising myself with the things that I assume I must have been drunk to have done/said (e.g. not actually remembering doing household chores that I have done – I was surprised to find that sometimes ‘not remembering’ is due to distraction/tiredness rather than alcohol use!) and b) alarming – it’s really made me realise how much mental energy I waste on trying to ascertain what state of intoxication I was in at any given time.  And this is with my current ‘normal’ intake of about 10-15 units a week – I dread to think what it was doing to my mental state pre-Slimming World, when ‘normal’ was closer to 40 units a week.

5. My Slimming World results have been killer

Obviously, as I’ve not had to spend my syns on alcohol, I’ve been free to use them for other things…but I’ve found that I’ve not been that bothered about the other things, meaning that rather than struggling to stay under the 105-syn weekly limit, I’ve been averaging a much more SW-friendly 70-80 syns per week, meaning that my weight loss is really speeding along at the moment.  This is definitely something I will be keeping in mind when I go back to drinking!

So, the original plan was to celebrate the start of Non-Dry February with a few of my birthday gift ciders after weigh-in tomorrow, but having realised that I’ve got a tattoo appointment the next day (which is starting to feel like the worst timed tattoo appointment of all time), I will be avoiding alcohol for an extra day so as not to thin my blood, meaning that I will be enjoying my ciders on Friday night instead, having gone exactly thirty days without a drink.  It’ll be nice, but this month has really made me think about my drinking going forward, and what I can do to keep an eye on it.