A rainbow scarf & my quest for zen


I thought I would write a little update on quitting smoking and binge eating sugar at the same time.

I’m off the fags, so that’s a big win. My lungs are starting to clear up and I’m feeling much better. This is week 3…It was hard for the first 5 days and then in the second week cravings seemed to come when stress hit but other than that I felt ok. Cravings are really weird. When you really sit with a craving and let it be there without acting on it or fighting with it, it dissipates in a matter of minutes. When the craving hits and you are busy doing other things and you don’t have time to sit and work through it is where the real challenge lies. You have to learn to remain present in the midst of acitivity and turmoil.

I also haven’t been drowning myself in vats of ice cream to substitute, yay for me. I wish I could say I’ve managed to do this because I have become enlightened and now only need fresh air, kale and water to survive. Alas this is not the case, the way I’ve managed to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat is by knitting. A suggestion given to me by the lovely SoberIsland. Proper knitting, with yarn and needles and everything !

Oh yes, I knit now. Honestly, if you told me two years ago that my future self would be a happily sober, herbal tea drinking, yoga doing, scarf knitting individual I would have laughed in your face and then probably would have slapped you for suggesting such an outrageous thing.

Knitting is the perfect hobby for this obsessive compulsive addict. I love the repetitiveness of it, it makes me feel safe and happy. I knew I was hooked when Friday rolled around and I felt proper panic because I didn’t have enough yarn for the weekend. You know what they say…once an addict… I suppose, strictly speaking I haven’t truly managed to deal with cross addictions because I’ve substituted smoking and eating sugar for knitting. Progress not perfection hey? As far as addictions go I think knitting is pretty innocuous. Never had a knitting hangover, can’t black out from it and I’ve never regretted what I knit the night before.

I finished my first scarf a couple of nights ago. I used rainbow yarn, (the closest I could get to unicorn yarn). I absolutely love it and I felt a great sense of accomplishment when it was finished. The only flaw (if this could be considered a flaw) is that it’s the longest scarf I’ve ever seen. It turns out didn’t know when to stop,  every night I kept telling myself just 3 more rows and before I knew it I had knit 6.



Cigarette flavoured ice cream

icecreamSo last week I tried to stop smoking for the gazillionth time. I fared pretty well until Mr Hurrah and I had a massive fight on Sunday.

I was standing outside in the shed where I used to sneak drinks…eating an ice cream and smoking a cigarette at the same time. Yes that is physically possible and no I wouldn’t recommend it. It takes a lot of coordination not to drag on the ice-cream and eat the cigarette.

As I was smoking the cigarette and angry eating the ice cream it occurred to me that this is perhaps not what sobriety looks like. What the hell am I doing? I’m not coping with life I am trying to distract and numb myself out with two things that aren’t even mind altering. I suppose that probably depends on how much ice cream you can consume in one sitting, is a sugar coma even a thing?

So in an effort to be accountable I am going to track my progress here. I’m quitting the fags cold turkey tomorrow and going to try my best not to substitute the fags for food.

Cigarettes are lethal and don’t DO anything. I think part of the reason I’m finding it difficult to quit this time (I quit for 7 years before my kids were born) is because I feel a loss of my rebel identity. I never pegged myself as a non-smoking, non-drinking kale eating yogi. The things is smoking doesn’t make you a rebel it’s just nicotine addiction that makes you sick.

The food thing is harder…when I stop smoking I feel more hungry and I ‘reward’ myself with food. Eating a whole box of ice creams isn’t fun. You feel sick afterwards and sugar is its own little hamster wheel of craving and bingeing.

Being mindful, present and noticing my triggers before it gets to crisis point is the only way this ‘new me’ is going to really recover. Yes, I didn’t drink so that is at least something but part of recovery is learning to deal with life’s ups and downs without clutching at old crutches that aren’t good for you.

I would love to hear what cross addictions y’all are struggling with, if any?

Wish me luck sober peeps, I sure need it. xxx

Sober camping


We’ve just retuned from our annual camping holiday and I’m pleased to report that I managed to do it sober this time around and I actually enjoyed it. I am not a camper as such, Mr Hurrah is the outdoorsy type, I’m much more a self catering cottage kinda gal. On our previous camping trips booze played a really big part. As soon as we put the tent up the beers came out and we would spend our days on a slow alcohol drip between various camping activities.

This year the car was packed so full that the backseat looked like a Tetris puzzle with soft toys, blankets, pillows, 2 grumpy children and a guitar between them. We packed fairy lights, sheepskins, drums and even packed in the bunting so I was convinced that this time camping was going to be marvellous, I am sober after all, what could go wrong?

My daughter was ill the night before and I had high hopes that she just ate something bad and wasn’t actually getting a sick bug. As soon as we pulled onto the highway my hopes were dashed to smithereens when she projectile vomited all over the pillows, the seats and my arm.

FML…I stayed quite calm, as calm as to be expected in such a predicament and as soon as we could do so safely, we pulled over at the services. After we cleaned up, I told Mr Hurrah that I wanted to go home, as I really didn’t fancy spending seven days with children vomiting in their sleeping bags. Hubs, ever the eternal optimist, insisted we stay the course and see what happens.

The drinking me would have had a fit and caused a fight but the sober me considered that it could be 24-hour bug and just maybe if the gods were smiling on us and we were lucky, my son wouldn’t get it.

Onwards we went, car smelling of stale vomit with hope in our hearts.

We unpacked while my poor daughter was draped over the picnic blanket, white as a sheet. She perked up after a while, it turned out to be a 24-hour bug, which was a massive relief. After the gargantuan task of pitching the tent, unfolding and unpacking everything was complete I cracked open a coke zero, didn’t miss the beer at all.

We made a fire and had an amazing barbeque and did the obligatory marshmallows on sticks. My son insisted on doing his own and kept dropping them into the fire.

I loved going to bed in my light blue and pink fluffy unicorn onesie sober. Yes, I have a unicorn onesie and yes, it is every bit as awesome as it sounds. This time, I didn’t have to get up at 4 (still tipsy) and fumble around the bushes with a torch to find the bathroom because I wasn’t drinking wine till the ungodly hours.

The early mornings were wonderful. I got up before the kids, they went to bed later than usual and I went to bed earlier than usual, so most mornings I had an hour to myself. I sat in my unicorn onesie on my camping chair drinking my coffee listening to the birds. It was bliss. No hangover, no wondering what the hell I did the night before, totally well rested.

The next day it rained and just as it started bucketing down I realised that I forgot to pack everyone’s Wellies. No matter, the sober me was cool calm and collected, nothing a debit card cant fix. Wellies bought, we were off to the movies to watch Captain Underpants. I didn’t think it was possible for my children to learn any new ideas on toilet humour however Captain Underpants introduced a whole new level to their already potty-centred vocabulary..

There was massive storm raging when we emerged from the cinema and I suggested we pop back to the campsite to double check that our tent hadn’t blown away. When we got there we were pleased and a little surprised that the tent was still standing. Our poor unfortunate neighbour’s weren’t so lucky, their event shelter had totally collapsed and the stuff underneath was soaked.

We opted for a nice hot meal at the pub as a barbeque was clearly out of the question. There was a point when Mr Hurrah’s red wine arrived that I had a twinge and thought that a glass of red might be nice but then quickly reminded myself what that would lead to. It wouldn’t be just the one glass, it never is. I don’t know if those thoughts ever go away but they are becoming less frequent.

The rest of the holiday we were blessed with good weather so it went off without a hitch. We saw glow worms, snakes, frogs, bunnies and loads of butterflies and birds. We spent lovely family time together, no ipads, no phones.

I felt like a kid this camping holiday, I felt clean and serene. There was stress but I could handle it SO much better sober! So despite the projectile vomiting and the storms, this was by far the best camping trip ever.


Am I doing recovery wrong?

Sobermummy’s latest post really got me thinking about this topic in earnest.

The issue discussed is that she doesn’t identify with the word alcoholic. She would rather call herself an alcohol addict. A friend of hers pointed out that this may sound like the lesser of two evils.

Let’s think about this for a second…

I don’t particularly identify with the word either. I have gone to AA meetings and said it but I would rather say I am addicted to alcohol. It’s the same thing but in my mind the term ‘alcohol addict’ puts the onus on the drug whereas alcoholic means the drug is fine and I have a disease. (I know my brain pathways have been changed but I still don’t like the word ‘disease’)

This brings me to my second point. There are so many people who are struggling with addiction to alcohol to various degrees. Back in the day the view was that there are 1) normal drinkers 2) alcoholics. These days it is widely accepted that there is wide spectrum in between these two.

The reason people especially women aren’t seeking help for addiction earlier is that the stereotypical idea of an alcoholic is a down and out bum on a park bench. We cant be alcoholics because we are ‘high functioning’ mothers, with jobs and responsibilities.

People aren’t seeking help until they are almost on that park bench due to the stigma and fear of being judged! I have many friends that are still drinking the volumes I used to drink and they won’t classify themselves as alcoholics, they are just having a good time.

Alcohol is a highly addictive drug. This is a fact but its not very well known. Professor nut conducted a study that found that Heroin, crack and crystal meth were deemed worst for individuals, with alcohol, heroin and crack cocaine worst for society, and alcohol worst overall. Read full article here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-11660210

Cigarette packets have massive warning labels printed all over them to warn people of the dangers of smoking yet alcohol seems to have a free pass. In the UK we have a massive drinking culture, it permeates through everything we do and you are considered really weird if you don’t drink.

It can takes years of sustained drinking to become addicted to alcohol. Yes some people fall faster down the rabbit hole than other due to a myriad of reasons but make no mistake they are falling if they are regularly drinking to de-stress or to change their emotional state. Factors that contribute to how quickly you become addicted: Your parents, your peers, how old you were when you started drinking, being a non-conformist etc. etc

My recovery really began when I had my ‘moment of realisation’.

This is when I hit the first step of AA hard.

  • We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable – (I did this step on my hands and knees)

I am also completely and utterly convinced that I can never return to ‘normal drinking’ (whatever that means.)

I have done the steps in my own way, each and every one of them. Not in a formal AA setting mind you and this is what I am questioning.

The steps of AA, the CBT of smart recovery, the community of the sober blogs and Eckhard Tolle & Bryon Katie all have a place in my recovery.

Just because I am not doing this in a formal setting, in other word going to meetings regularly (I’m going every now and then) and using the words like ‘disease’ and ‘God’ and ‘alcoholic’, does that mean I’m doing it wrong?

I am sober and it’s taken me a very long time to get to this point of absolute acceptance. We are multi faceted human beings with different personalities so one method of recovery and one way of talking about addiction, with words that are set in stone surely isn’t helpful but rather harmful.

Shouldn’t this be an inclusive community that embraces all ways to freedom and abstinence? If the conversation and words could be inclusive and embrace the wide range of people stuck in addiction won’t more people be motivated to stop drinking earlier on?

There is a whole new thing happening out there, Annie Grace, Holly Whitaker, Laura Mackowen all paving the way for a new conversation around addiction to booze. I resonate very strongly with these women and what they have to say.

I am sober today and so happy to be, that’s a good result I think!

The greatest pleasure in life…


I was listening to an interview Belle did with BBC Three counties radio, you can listen to it here: http://www.tiredofthinkingaboutdrinking.com/2017/07/15/sp195/

The interview was supposed to be about young people and how there is a trend where they seem to be disenchanted with alcohol. The presenter was a drinker (very much in love with alcohol) and was totally gobsmacked by Belle suggestion that alcohol wasn’t required to have a good time!

How very dare she suggest such an outrageous thing! We need booze to feel good in this culture. We need booze when we feel good and we need booze when we feel bad, which pretty much means that we need booze all the time!

The part of the interview that really got me was when he said: “Surely there is no greater pleasure in life than a gorgeous glass of wine on a sunny afternoon!” Isn’t that a tragic statement?

This was my reality for many years. Alcohol was the easy sparkling route to nirvana. What could be easier than opening a bottle of wine and drinking it to change how you feel? It never in a million years dawned on me that was I was actually enjoying was sitting down at the end of a long day and just chilling out. It didn’t occur to me that this ‘liquid magic’ I was drinking was slowly destroying me and would turn out to be my greatest source of pain.

The term cognitive dissonance is used to describe the feelings of discomfort that result from holding two conflicting beliefs. One of the core beliefs I held was that alcohol was necessary to have a good time. The conflicting evidence that I experienced in my life like horrendous hangovers, drunken fights, blackouts, falling over was pushed to the back to the far recesses of my mind so that I could hold on to my first belief.

We will do anything and everything to protect the precious substance and let ourselves hang out to dry! These days I can have a great time without alcohol in fact I have a better time because I can remember everything. I am free and clear and I truly connect with people when I’m out. I’ve learned to let go and dance sober, which was a massive step for me.

I went to my first sober concert to watch one of my favourite bands Guns and Roses, I had a blast, I sang and danced like a maniac, all sober! Yes sometimes I will leave a party early but the only reason is that when people start repeating themselves it can get quite tedious. I don’t leave early because I am boring now that I am sober. I’m much more outgoing now that I have found my sober feet. Towards the end of my drinking I was the most boring drunk, I would just sit in corner and go all-quiet. Lordy! Do you call that having a good time?

There is no greater pleasure in life than being able to find pleasure and contentment from within and not to be dependant on an outside source/substance.




Taking the power back


Drinking has always been a big part of my feminist identity. (Yes I’m a feminist AND I still cook my husband’s dinner, these things can coexist) I am a modern a woman after all and we are allowed to drink now.  Thank god! I used to say. We’re not restricted to the side entrances of ‘ladies’ bars anymore. We can go into any establishment and get just as shitfaced as men, we’ve earned the right Goddamnit!

We work, we raise families we balance the budget and whilst doing all of this we are flagellating ourselves for not looking like a 16 year old model on the cover of Vogue who eats one piece of celery per year and then sticks her fingers down her throat afterwards.

I used to think my drunken exploits were a big middle finger to the patriarchal establishment. “Take that!: —As I’m downing garish neon coloured shots. “I’ll show you!”—As I’m getting sick round the side of the club.

However misplaced this notion was, I wasn’t alone in this thinking. I was part of the ‘ladette’ culture and not surprisingly this coincided with alcohol marketing massively pushing towards the female market.

Recent years have seen profound changes in women’s drinking habits. Part of being a modern woman is ‘doing it all’, and part of ‘doing it all’ means WINE. This idea that alcohol is somehow an inevitable part of being an empowered woman is keeping a lot of women stuck in the no mans land of problem drinking.

When I relate this to my own life I can see so clearly that alcohol has been nothing but disempowering. To a painfully awkward and slightly depressed teenager, alcohol was a quick fix to numb out all the anxiety I felt about myself, my body and about life. It helped drown out the critical voices. It helped me be more outgoing.

Of course if you start binge drinking at aged 13 the chances of you experiencing violence and or assault is increased dramatically.

The Centre of Addiction states: “Although drinking does not cause sexual assault, there is evidence that alcohol use creates an environment in which sexual assaults are more likely to occur. Studies show that 50% to 75% of all sexual assaults on college campuses involve alcohol.”


When I became a mother the disempowerment was compounded by the fact that I gave up full time work to look after the children. At the time I didn’t realise how much that choice would influence my sense of self worth. I went from freelancing in London and earning the same amount as my husband to staying/working from home earning a fraction of what I used to.

The drinking escalated at home, being a stay at home mom is NOT for the faint of heart. Nothing can prepare you for the isolation, monotony and relentlessness of it all. The sea of nappies, bottles, tantrums. The PND with both children made it gruelling instead of joyful. I felt guilty for not being the glowy mom you see in the Johnson and Johnson’s ads and so I self medicated with wine. This was a lethal combination. Trying to soothe the guilt you feel over being a shitty mom with alcohol is like pouring a massive can of petrol on a raging fire.

The disempowerment that goes hand and hand with alcohol abuse is far reaching and undoubtedly affected all the areas of my life. Drinking led to a myriad of bad choices, flaky goals and generally just coasting around looking for my next fix.

The most insidious way alcohol disempowers us is that a life fuelled by addiction will most likely lead to many unfulfilled goals and dreams. Passions are put on the back burner in favour drinking. The more the drinking escalates the more you are just playing catch up. You are functioning with a handicap, dealing with drinking time and hangover time. This really doesn’t leave much time for anything else.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes about addiction in her book – Women who run with the wolves:

“The instinctual nature tells us when enough is enough. It is prudent and life preserving. A woman cannot make up for a lifetime of betrayal and wounding through the excesses of pleasure, rage or denial.

Sometimes is it difficult for us for us to realise that we are losing our instincts, for it is often an insidious process that does not occur all in one day, but rather over a long period of time. Too, the loss or deadening of instinct is often entirely supported by the surrounding culture, and sometimes even by other women who endure the loss of instinct as a way of achieving belonging in a culture that keeps no nourishing habitat for the natural woman.”

At age 39 I feel like I’m in the driver’s seat for the first time in my life. I am now actively pursuing goals that have been gathering dust for years. Yes, it is scary and sure, I may fail but you know what, I’m doing it anyway.

Taking the power back baby!



The only way is UP


Thank you for all the messages and emails. I’m totally blown away that you all took the time to comment and send me such lovely words of support.

It’s very strange for me to think that anyone even reads my blog or that anyone wants to hear what I have to say. (I’m not saying that in a self deprecating way, its just really overwhelming all the love. ) The sober blogosphere is just an awesome place and you are all so amazing, don’t know what I would do without ya’ll.

Yesterday was tough, I was violently hung over and my self esteem in tatters on the floor. So I did what you do when times are hard… I had a little pity party, I listened to Leonard Cohen, I wallowed in misery, I cried, I ate carbs, I ate 2 ice creams and I went to bed early.

This morning I woke up with such excitement. I can’t explain it but I know good things are on the way. No I haven’t lost my mind and I am not still drunk. My problems are still there and yes I drank over them but I know that I’m better than I was a year ago because I was able to look at myself with compassion. I can forgive myself for giving in and for drinking. I can look at what happened and see where I can do better next time.

Every day is day one for an addict. Every day we are faced with a choice to fall into old negative patterns or to choose joy and right action. It really is… one day at a time.

Its easy for me to choose joy and right action when things are going well but when the shit hits the fan it gets really tough because I have years of conditioning to undo.

The good thing is that I know I can’t go back. Going back to drinking is like going back into a burning house like Annie Grace says. I know one thing for sure and that is that I’ve got no business being in that house anymore!

I didn’t feel good when I drank, it felt terrible. My body and soul says no it every time.

Couple of things I am going to look at:

  • Asking for help when I can see I am being overwhelmed. Phoning someone when I feel I’m on the cliff.
  • Making that relapse prevention plan book that postcardsfromrecovery wrote a post about.
  • Trying another meeting
  • Better self care (meditation, sleep, good nutrition)
  • Turning my house into a sober bubble again.
  • Researching co-dependency (bought a book suggested by the lovely saoirsek)
  • Trying Alanon (Lovely Wendy’s suggestion)

There are more things can’t think of them all right now.


Day one

I drank yesterday. After 7 months of sobriety, I fucked up.

I feel defeated and sick to my stomach. The hangover nothing compared to the self-hatred I feel.

My husband has been in a relapse for months now since he got back from Africa. I have found it really hard watching him drink himself into a stupor and having to walk on eggshells around his quick temper and moods due to alcohol. There has been alcohol in the house (which I swore we would never do).

A couple of weeks ago my mother was diagnosed with Emphazema and I have found it really difficult to be so far away from her during this time. I want to be with her but I cant. I feel stuck, I can’t move back to Africa and she cant move here because in order for me to make that happen I have to prove that she has no other children living there that can look after her.

At lunch yesterday we had a fight because he snapped at me again. I went to my room to try calm down and he came in saying that he’s going out. I just lost all my grounding. When he says he’s going out that means he’s going to drink more. I have spent so many night worrying about him when he’s out.

I went downstairs and poured myself a massive whiskey. I sat looking at it for ages. I didn’t want to drink it. I wanted to disappear. I was hoping that he would stop me when he saw it. He didn’t.

I just thought fuck it! Life is always going to be like this and I drank 3 big gulps. I shuddered and felt nauseous and thought to myself you don’t have to do this you can stop now. But the addict part of my brain just said fuck it you’ve broken your sobriety now you may as well just do it properly.

I can’t remember much of the night. I can’t remember putting the kids to bed. I can remember that I got sick.

In the cold light of day I am faced with the aftermath of what I have done. Another fucking day one. Jesus fucking Christ! How could I have been so stupid?

This is self harm to the extreme. I used to cut myself when I was a teenager. When my emotional pain was too much to bear I would cut my wrists to feel better. Yesterday felt like that.

I’m not planning on making the lapse into a full-blown relapse. I hate fucking alcohol. I hate it with everything in me. I’m done with that and I’m done with that life.

I made massive progress this past year, yesterday doesn’t negate that. Maybe it needed to happen to just cement in brain how absolutely shit it is.

I do know that I cannot have alcohol in the house and that I cannot be married to someone who is a drinker. It is too risky and I am not strong enough to handle it.

I spoke to my husband about it. I don’t want to give him an ultimatum; he needs to decide for himself that he wants to stop. Unfortunately I am not strong enough to wait for his rock bottom or moment of revelation.

This is just a really fucking difficult situation and I feel like I’ve been through the ringer.

My son gave me a hug this morning, I felt like I didn’t deserve a hug from such a pure little soul. I felt and still feel polluted, dirty and full of poison.

I think I need to sleep. Will need to put some more plans in place so that this doesn’t ever happen again.


There by the grace…

Went to the shops the other day to get some bits and pieces. While I was standing in the checkout line there was middle aged woman that looked really unsteady on her feet. Her face was red and sweaty and she was clutching two bottles of white wine.  She was talking to one of the shop assistants a slurry voice when I heard the shop assistant say really loudly: “Are you drunk again, dear?”  He gave me a knowing look and a sly smile as if to say: “watch how I humiliate this piece of trash”

I could see this was turning into a scene and just felt so helpless. People were starting to talk in muffled whispers. There was laughing and pointing. When she got to the front of the line she became louder and more animated which of course caused more looks of disdain.

I waited in my car to see if she was ok and also to check that she wasn’t getting into a car and driving! Thankfully someone else was driving the car she go into, she left.

I started crying in the car park. Uncontrollable sadness overtook me. I was heartbroken by people’s reaction to her! I cannot believe how she was treated like absolute shit! Like a second-class citizen. Like a fucking leper. I’m so heartbroken that people don’t know that she isn’t choosing to be that way! She is addicted! That removes your choice and addicts need care and understanding.

I could be that woman! I was that woman! I always sent my husband on last rounds drink runs to the shops before the shops close at 11 so HE was her too!

Our society has such a fucked up view of alcohol/ drugs and addicts. Just because their Facebook/ money/shopping/TV/game/approval addiction isn’t plastered across their face doesnt make them better that the woman in that shop! I commiserate with food addicts so much because they get the same disdain from society; their addiction is obvious for everyone to see. My addiction was easy to hide for a long time but towards the end it wasn’t anymore. My skin, my breath my sweaty face was there for all to see.

My heart goes out to that woman in the shop with her two bottles of Pinot Grigio. There by the grace of God go I.