Today is the 8th Birthday of my little blog! Can you believe it?!
So much has happened since I started writing this back in 2017! I got married, changed jobs, got the Tobes, and started a business.
This started as a hobby, something to do on my commute, but honestly, it has helped me learn so much about myself. Of course, I’m still learning, and I don’t think that will ever stop.
At the time of posting, I am 17 days alcohol-free. To be honest, I’ve found it pretty easy as, over the last few years, my drinking habits have changed dramatically.
To begin with, my sleep was up the wall. It wasn’t because I’d stopped drinking, but I don’t think it helped matters. It wasn’t until this week that my sleep started to improve slightly. My mood is a little farther behind—more on that later.
This has led me to question whether I should extend my no-drinking to the end of February. I’m not seeing any changes so far. I will continue because I don’t have any social events until the last weekend in January, so I will reassess the situation then.
I also had two weeks off of work, and once Christmas was out of the way, I did nothing. Zero. I sat at home watching old films they were showing on TV and reading books – I got through 3 over Christmas.
I took my lashes off, removed my nail polish and sat there like a giant newborn. I didn’t think about anything work-related and ate what I wanted when I wanted. It was bliss.
As always, I looked forward to returning to normality and routine after a break. Although the urge to dive in and completely overhaul my life in one week was tempting, I am determined to succeed, and I know that going in all guns blazing is not the way to do it.
For the first week, I focused on removing alcohol and this week, I focused on my calories. I’ve realised that tracking calories is a hell of a lot easier when you’re not drinking or going out. I don’t want to track calories forever, but I want to get myself back into good eating habits, and this is a good place to start.
My mind was, of course, 7 steps ahead, trying to plot and plan my life for months in advance, but I’m reigning that eager bitch in and taking each week as it comes and doing what feels right for that week.
This year, it’s different. These aren’t just lofty goals or New Year’s resolutions I’ve plucked out of thin air. I’m working towards lifestyle changes that will improve my life in the long term and have a knock-on effect on many different areas of my life.
I’ve had these goals before, goals I’ve failed to reach, but this time, it feels different. I feel ready, and they feel achievable. It’s going to be a long, hard road, but I’ve never felt more determined to put in the work!
When I woke up on Monday, instead of feeling raring to go, I felt flat and, for want of a better word, depressed. Why wasn’t the 11 days of sobriety leaving me feeling full of life and energy? Ok, I’d had a shitty night’s sleep, and the weather was horrific, but I didn’t have to go out in it.
Toby was on my case even though I’d fed him. I just wanted to have a cup of tea and read my book in peace, but I couldn’t focus. I could hear every little noise around me, which was ironic as I was trying to read a book about meditation and concentration.
Reality is kicking in hard, and I know I need to give myself some grace and be patient, two things I’m not very good at.
Tuesday was no better. My hope that yesterday was the back-to-work blues was wrong. I didn’t understand why I felt so overwhelmed. I only had to work for a few hours, and then I was off to see the bestie in the afternoon. What has happened to me?
Auntie Flo arrived, allowing me to make some sense of the mental mess, but I was still frustrated that my lack of alcohol hadn’t made this time easier.
I managed to get through the morning and enjoyed work, taking my laptop downstairs for the second day to ease the pain. I spent a few hours with the bestie and found that an old friend was fitting the wardrobes in her house, so I had a little catch-up with him.
I caught up with another good friend on the phone when I got home. It was only when we went to end the call that I realised we’d been on the phone for two hours, and I hadn’t even had dinner yet!
By the time I got into bed, I was shattered. I’d done more socialising today than in the past two weeks, but it felt good.
I expected to wake up feeling fulfilled and energised after my day, but of course, my sleep was disturbed. I woke up very early feeling worse than the last two days combined, and I was fed up with it.
I was sick of wanting to cry all the time, of feeling anxious, the constant tension in my body and having no energy whatsoever to do the things I knew I needed to do.
I spent the morning swinging between sadness and rage. What has happened to me? Why does even the simplest thing seem so hard? I don’t want to live a life as half a human, I want to go back to enjoying people and places and laughing instead of feeling sad, angry and bitter. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?
My anger and frustration came out in tears, and since I was crying anyway, I decided to put on the new Pete Wicks program for dog’s sake. This made me sob uncontrollably and think that perhaps I should volunteer at an animal shelter. Honestly, I think I could watch a whole village massacre, but if someone even looks at an animal wrong, I am furious.
After watching that, I got back into bed with the Tobes snuggled in between me and the husband, who by this point deserves sainthood because I would have smothered me and buried me in the back garden by now, instead has been patiently making me cups of tea and cheese on toast.
I eventually got up, washed my teeth and worked from my office (in my PJs). I tried not to think about my feelings for the rest of the day.
Thankfully, the week improved. On Thursday, the husband and I took a 30-minute walk to the shops and bought some nice things for Sunday dinner. Even though I was still waking up in the night, I didn’t cry.
On Friday, I woke up very early. I was frustrated, so I decided to fill in an online consultation form about my HRT, which just did not seem to be working anymore. I had (finally) moved doctors and wasn’t quite ready for another battle. I filled in the form, explaining what changes I had made and how I felt I would benefit from testosterone and forgot all about it.
Despite the crap sleep, I felt the most motivated I had all week and decided to do some work in the sanctuary whilst I had the oomph. Then the doctor called. I took a deep breath, prepared to defend my case, but she simply said that the NHS can’t prescribe testosterone (crazy, because that is a hormone that drops just like oestrogen and progesterone?!), but she would refer me to a menopause specialist.
I cannot tell you how happy I felt after that call! I was so glad I filled in that form. I finally get to speak to a specialist who can hopefully look at my HRT and work with me to get it right without me feeling like I’m being a pain in the arse!
That afternoon, the husband and I drove to a cute nearby village for a nice, frosty three-mile walk. We stopped in a pub halfway (a pint of Coke Zero for moi!) and then rewarded ourselves with some pub grub at the end (more Coke Zero!) I was still cold when we got home, so I got straight into my PJs and dressing gown with a cup of tea, knowing that at 2 a.m., I would be overheating again. Joy!
So, all in all, what started out as a pretty rubbish start to the first “official” week in Jan, and I started the blog birthday in a good mood, with a phone call to my mum, a cup of tea and a cuddle with the Tobes. Cheers to many more years.
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