Day 10 – the rage

Today the rage has set in. I’m so flipping angry. Heaven knows what about.

Obviously take it out on the long suffering hubster. I mutter at him for leaving things on the stairs. Curse whilst I make sweet potato frittas for beautiful baby. Hang washing out and practically throw it on the line.

Mood improves slightly during a baby playdate. Finally catch up with a lovely mum whose BB is at the same stage and age as my BB. It’s also lovely that she isn’t madly trying to teach her BB baby Spanish and baby sign language like one competitive yummy mummy group I’m unfortunately part of and too scared to leave (I just stay silent on whatsap and haunt as I’ve got nothing to contribute).

To try and really shake the mood off I go for a walk at nap time for an hour. It doesn’t work. So I’m now running at 5:30 over the fields with one of my friends I’ve confided in (wish me luck).

I didn’t realise these cravings would be so bad. I didn’t realise I’d be constantly thirsty yet constantly needing the loo. I didn’t realise my brain would feel so foggy and my body so tired.

I didn’t realise. This. Is. So. Flipping. Hard

Day 9 – foggy with some sunny spells

Another early night last night taking Jason Vale to bed with me (the book, although girl can dream).

Woke up feeling refreshed, one of the things I’m really enjoying about being AF is sleeping so well. Pop out with beautiful baby (bb) to try and get them used to the big outdoors since they’ve spent half their life in lock down.
Come back and I’m putting her down for her nap as my neighbour I cut the grass for on Sunday knocks on the door.

She thanks me for cutting her grass and produced a bottle of wine to say thank you for doing it. I want to say no, but I also know she suffers with mental health and I really don’t want to turn her thoughtful gesture down.

I have a moment of torment.

Then smile and thank her for her gift. She smiles back and says “no problem, I remembered you liked wine”. I feel my cheeks streak with shame/embarassment when I remember she’d kindly put our recycling out last year. I sort of smile and nod my thanks at her.

I feel as if life is sending me these little signs. First the cork and now this. I give hubster the wine and ask him to put it in the loft as I’m scared of the loft.

I head out during my BB nap time to the ring shop where our wedding rings are being made. To fill you in, we got married last year after unexpectedly winning our wedding. We were blown away by this as the whole thing was paid for apart from my dress, the hubsters suit and then hair and makeup.

Whilst we completely didnt expect to win (I filled out the entry whilst sitting on the toilet), the venue completely didnt expect me to be 8 months pregnant. Nor did I to be fair, we found out I was expecting a few days after winning.

In the rush to get married, find a dress for a “glowing” pregnant woman, organise accommodation for our guests in a beautiful part of the country, we didnt bother with rings. My hands were super fat so we just got a cheap band each with the plan to get them made later.

So fast forward July 2020 and I’m visiting the ring shop for the 4th time because frustratingly they keep making my wedding band the wrong size. I was determined to use an independent by us, due to businesses struggling during COVID so reached out to a local ring maker. She is absolutely lovely but completely scatty. And in my humble opinion unbelievably talented.

So I’m here for the 3rd try on, after going Saturday and Friday the week before. Frustratingly the band is now too small. I take a deep breath. Smile, stay whilst she gets it sorted ready for the next stage and thank her. I also buy some cards and a wild flower bomb for the step daughters stocking at Xmas.

Get home and she’s charged me £57.00 for the 4 cards and flower bomb which I do not have. More deep breaths and tears to hubster (who really should be sainted).

Any how it’s now past 5pm, the magic wine o’clock. I’m going to stay strong, read some tips on how to treat myself (thanks for the ideas all- I might raid the cheese in the fridge) and if in doubt go to bed with Jason Vale.

Have a lovely evening all

JS x

Day 8- the fog hits

Cleaning the lounge yesterday I came across my big vase, where I’d kept corks of special bottles in. I was under the assumption I’d do something arty with it at one point. They’ve sat in the corner all week taunting me, “look how much money you’ve wasted”, “bet you can’t recall one night from these special corks”. I can actually but that’s not the point. I get a bin bag to start emptying them into the bag and one catches my eye. In biro (because I’m a classy mummy) I’ve written “I quit”. I don’t remember writing it, it was half way into the pile. I do however believe this is a sign and it gives me the shivers. It also shows I’ve been aware my drinking has been out of control for a while.

We have a lovely walk round the lake and field by our home. There were tons of butterflies dancing over the wildflowers and my beautiful baby loved watching them. Came home and cut the lawn to keep busy, then cut my neighbours too. She’s a lovely lady suffering with depression so it felt good to help in a small way. She waved from the window and mouthed thank you, which made me feel warm and fluffy inside.

Went to bed at 8pm after surviving my first sober roast in a long time. The cravings were back. Was really surprised with how tired I felt so dropped off pretty quick and slept through. Didn’t suffer from the knot of anxiety like I normally would when my step daughter is due.

Waking up clear headed on a Monday and actively playing with beautiful baby, instead of trying to cram caffeine into my body was lovely. We had a socially distanced play date in the park and then it hit. I can only describe it as extreme fatigue, a fog, when your legs feel like all the energy is being sucked out of them. Managed to get us home and napped in beautiful baby’s nap. Woke up and still no better. Has anyone else felt like this? Does it get better? How long does it last? Starting Jason Vales book with a bar of chocolate tonight. Has anyone got any other recommendations? Hope everyone else is having a relaxing evening

JS x

Day 7 – when the cravings hit

Hello everyone, hope you’re all having a restful Sunday wherever you are in the world.

So yesterday’s meal was lovely. After typing out my blog I did a quick 15 minutes of yoga and then the hubster thankfully didn’t burn the house down the dinner. We then settled down to watch a film on Netflix (midnight in Paris, if anyone’s remotely interested).

This is where the cravings hit. I’ve read books where its described as a wine witch or a gremlin inside, urging you to drink. That little voice in your ear. For me it feels like this dark swarmy insidious cloud, swirling around inside me. Pushing against my skin and whispering temptation. I was surprised how overwhelming the urge was.

I literally had sit on my hands and turn my head away from our gin cupboard where the temptation sat. I kept repeating this was the hardest part. As soon as the film was over I urged my hubster to bed (I think he thought he was getting lucky) and turned to my phone.

Looking for confirmation I googled the good affects of a week without drinking and was surprised. Did you know you get better quality sleep, you’re better hydrated and you’re meant to have saved calories and money? In my case I’ve gone from glugging wine to what it seems snorting sugar and have already had chocolate and a slice two slices of cake today. But that’s something I feel I can work on.

Waking up Sunday morning I feel appreciative to not have a hangover and I bound down the stairs like an eager labrador to make the gang banana pancakes. We’re attempting a hike with a 9 month old baby this afternoon, something I’d have felt too hungover for normally. Wish us luck.

I feel like tonight will be another test. I normally love a Sunday roast with a glass bottle of red and g&ts in the garden. We are also due my step daughter (who I genuinely love dearly) tomorrow for a week and normally the night before I sleep terribly, with an unexplainable anxious knot.

The next 24 hours will be tough, but one day at a time right? And be grateful for what we have in the present. Have a fabulous Sunday

JS x (ps a photo of dinner)

Day 6

So Day 6, came around on a Friday. I’ve been dreading and also slightly excited about the weekend. An anticipation like the first day of school, would I survive? What activities would I do? Would a friend I was seeing on Friday night expect me to drink? How would I survive the trip to our cheese and wine shop with my hubby. As typing this I realise how terribly middle class I sound, but hey I’m fully trying to support independents.

Friday evening came round and my lovely friend turned up. We set up outside and I nervously asked her what she wanted to drink. I think the relief on my face must’ve been evident when she asked for a cup of tea, as she asked if I was ok. Taking a big gulp (unfortunately not of wine), I explained I was giving up the devil alcohol for 100 days. Then I was amazed and relieved when she shared with me how she’d gone a year without alcohol in her 20s due to crippling anxiety. Isn’t nuts how when you start talking about it so many people have similar stories? Makes me feel more connected and less alone.

Saturday morning rolled round. After experiencing the best sleep I’ve had in several years, the hubster asked whether we were still going our favourite shop for essentials (he means the cheese and bread he’s not much of a drinker). I’ve been determined life isn’t going to change too much, well only in a positive way so agreed and off we went.

We arrive and I feel the devil on my shoulder whispering “get a bottle”. The lovely owner, who’s seen me sozzled a fair few times in their bar with my friends, lights up and informs me he has a lovely orange wine in. My favourite. My absolute favourite. I wrestle inside as the hubster pretends not to notice my plight and starts asking about the cheeses. To my amazement (and let’s face it the owners), I hear my voice saying no and asking for some bread. In a daze I pay for the cheese and bread and wander out the store. Which isn’t unusual, most the time I can’t remember leaving their establishment.

So now it’s Saturday eve, our date night in. It will be our first date night sober (excluding pregnancy). I’m once again nervous and excited. The hubster is burning cooking up a feast, as I get ready upstairs and write on here. Wish me luck. One day at a time

JS x

ps photos attached of the lovely independent shop, aka my nemesis

Hello there


I thought I should start with a little introduction. As you can probably tell, I’m terribly new at this and have written and rewritten this about 8 times.

It all came to a head last Friday. I’d been drinking in the garden with the girls the night before, topping up their glasses to insure we all drank quickly. After the left I decided to have a couple of espresso martinis downstairs on my own. This resulted in horrific sickness before bed and in the morning. Unfortunately that morning I was due to take my baby and 7 year old step daughter (who doesn’t miss a thing), to a farm. I hated every single moment due to the uncontrollable sickness, the sweats, banging head. I was a state. This is not the mother I ever imagined I’d be. And it needs to stop

I’m 36 years old, with a baby under 1 and I’m starting to realise I might have a problem with alcohol. Well, scrap that. I’ve known for a while. I’ve competitively watched as a friend tops up our wine, hoping, just a little, that my glass have more. I suffer from social media beer fear, where I have to obsessively check each social media platform to ensure any comments written the night before, don’t reveal how sozzled I was. I’ve actively planned friendship catch ups around alcohol and broken down in front of my long suffering hubby after nights out over insignificant things.

So here I find myself on a Friday night typing into the vast internet, to take my mind off my gin cupboard, wondering if anyone’s out there. I’ve always kept a diary but I’m nervous about sharing my thoughts. But I’m hoping to find solidarity, inspiration and to hold myself accountable. To stop my life sipping away.