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Why is it so important to begin this blog with the statement above and say that I am not an alcoholic? Because I have never liked labels; labels are for luggage, laundry and lentils lurking in the back of your larder.
I have huge respect for AA as an organisation, and I know that it works very well for a huge amount of people. However, it is not for me because one of the reasons I drank so heavily and for so long was because of a childhood trauma inflicted on me by a man. A women-only space was imperative to me and crucial to my recovery. Somewhere safe where I could find a way to live alcohol free and also find a pathway out of the nightmares and expel those shadowy ghosts I had lived with for far too long.
And now as I march forth into this shiny new alcohol-free space – TABB for women, I carry the blazing torch handed to me by Susan Christina Creamer, a fiercely proud Limerick woman. Susan is the founder of Hola Sober, and Hola Sober Off the Grid. I found Susan one morning as I listened to a podcast. I was immediately drawn to her because she was from Limerick, because she spoke with strength, integrity and compassion that obviously came from a huge heart. Susan coined the term “we were addicted to an addictive substance”. That substance is now gone from my life and through this new life of sobriety, I have found a way of being that brings me so much peace and joy, it’s incomparable to the life I led before I stopped drinking. You see, I wasn’t having vodka on my cornflakes, but drinking consumed many of my waking moments. It has been said that if alcohol is causing a problem in your life, then you have a problem with alcohol. This applies as much to the lady who is consuming a small glass of sherry each evening as it does to a man who is getting through two bottles of vodka a day.
My love affair with drinking began when I was sixteen and ended when I was 52. That’s a long time to be loving something that turns you into the worst version of yourself, to be in a relationship with something that you know is harming you but feeling utterly powerless to stop. The affair began in a small town in Ireland when I went into a pub with my friend on a tour from school and sipped a pint of Heineken. It tasted awful. Thereafter followed a tumultuous relationship that encompassed cider, lager, whiskey, gin, everything in between, whatever you’re having yourself, and finally for a long time - wine. Whether it was a glass of red to warm the cockles of my heart or a glass of white to refresh me on a hot day, for a long time, it was all about the wine. But all those alcoholic drinks did the same thing. They numbed me, they sedated me, they relaxed me, and ultimately they took away my power. I thought alcohol enabled me to be more sparkly, to be more fun, and that it would help me to deal with childhood trauma. But nobody could see the hungover Claire, nobody could see the depressed Claire, nobody could see inside my head - the bargaining, the rationalising, and towards the end of this tawdry love affair, no one saw the blackouts and the swift but endless spiral into a never ending darkness.
My love affair with drinking began when I was sixteen and ended when I was 52. That’s a long time to be loving something that turns you into the worst version of yourself, to be in a relationship with something that you know is harming you but feeling utterly powerless to stop. The affair began in a small town in Ireland when I went into a pub with my friend on a tour from school and sipped a pint of Heineken. It tasted awful. Thereafter followed a tumultuous relationship that encompassed cider, lager, whiskey, gin, everything in between, whatever you’re having yourself, and finally for a long time - wine. Whether it was a glass of red to warm the cockles of my heart or a glass of white to refresh me on a hot day, for a long time, it was all about the wine. But all those alcoholic drinks did the same thing. They numbed me, they sedated me, they relaxed me, and ultimately they took away my power. I thought alcohol enabled me to be more sparkly, to be more fun, and that it would help me to deal with childhood trauma. But nobody could see the hungover Claire, nobody could see the depressed Claire, nobody could see inside my head - the bargaining, the rationalising, and towards the end of this tawdry love affair, no one saw the blackouts and the swift but endless spiral into a never ending darkness.
As I write this on a sunny Saturday morning in August, I am now 907 days sober. That’s 2.484 years without alcohol in my system. That is two Christmases, 3 summer holidays, one confirmation and two weddings worth. I am finding my feet, my sober legs. You may wonder why the number of days alcohol free and counting those days is so important. I count those days because they serve as a reminder of how far I have come and how far I have yet to go.
As I look out at the hills of Clare, I am filled with a mixture of excitement, fear and trepidation. I am very excited to be writing this blog for TABB and I hope that you will join me over the coming months to read my words exploring creativity, documenting personal insights and writing reflections of my lived experience as a woman no longer living a lie but living a life free from alcohol I truly hope that this blog will inspire and support you on your alcohol free journey.
The fear and trepidation are because this is a public forum, because I am naturally a private and introverted person, because I have never seen the need to shout about my sobriety from the rooftops. Who will read this? Who will judge me? What will people say? But overriding the fear is the knowing that it is now time to be of service. Like Susan reached back to me, I believe it is time now to reach back to someone somewhere who may need support and solace. It is time.
Grá & Solas
Claire
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Claire
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