It’s been a while – I’d like to say the absence was enjoyable, but somehow it doesn’t fit.

I’d say, that the last few months have been tumultuous, to say the least.

When you start a Hello Sunday Morning Challenge, you can’t help but count the days. Whether your doing a 3, 6 or 12 month gig, the first few days are novelty, that eventually becomes obsolete once you start realising that it’s not as easy as you thought or you at the very least realise your social life starts diminishing – mainly by choice.

I gave up counting somewhere between the 150 day mark and now. To be honest, the choice became a lifestyle, and the consequences of my previous compulsive behaviour started to really impact on me at a personal level. I started to realise that I lacked the basic coping mechanisms to deal with cloudy days, and emotional instability.

We’re always taught that alcohol is a depressant.  However, for some reason it was the only time I ever felt happy – looking back now, it was all fake. For me, it was escapism, release, and some way I could cause pain to myself, without directly ‘cutting’ or actively physically maiming myself. Not entirely a healthy attitude, yet an attitude that resembles one that many teens/adults/people probably share.

I’ve prided myself on being a strong, independent individual and for the first time in my life, I reached a point this year, where I wasn’t. I lost all control; I literally sat down in a heap and cried. I cried for the frustration, for the anger, for the resentment, for the wasted time, for the hurt, but in that moment I was literally crying…. Because I couldn’t straighten one side of my hair. It was probably at that point I thought that something wasn’t quite right. I’d become reserved, morose, moody, and extremely anxious. All these were present in my life before, but never simultaneously.

It’s something that’s not talked about, it’s almost as though it’s still got a bit of a stigma attached too it. Let’s be honest, it does. So I’ll just throw it out there: I’m currently suffering from a condition commonly known as depression.

Let’s cut a long story short, but for me the biggest step was the acknowledgment. It’s the acceptance that I actually didn’t know what the hell was going on. I’m not a big ‘pill popper’ – water fixes a headache, not Panadol. So taking a tiny tablet every day, made me feel like someone who had lost their autonomy and had succumbed to some ‘Big Brother watching, zombie world’ where everyone in it is controlled by these little pills. It’s been 4 months: this is not the case (at least I don’t think so)

Through a bit of a team approach – GP/Pscyh/Family and friends, I’m back in the zone, and feeling, let’s be honest, about a thousand times better. It’s funny though, during my analysis I was asked if I had made any drastic life changes, or if I had quit smoking, or drugs. I casually mentioned I stopped drinking, after years of binge drinking. My GP and Pscyh both agreed that for the last x amount of years, I’ve used drinking as a coping mechanism for emotional instability, as an avoidance tactic, and as a crux for anything else that I was too emotionally immature to handle. Funny that at 25 years old these issues are only just rearing their ugly heads, what’s going to happen to the younger generation that are drinking earlier and harder than mine?

Anyway – I’m glad to be back – fit and healthy. Strong minded, and motivated as ever.

I’ve got 106 days to go (Yes that’s right people 106!!!!!!!) My 12 month stint is nearly over – I am excited at the prospect of having a choice to drink again, but I’m more excited that I will actually achieve my goal.

Thanks for reading

Katherine x

Mum and I - Raising Money for Breast Cancer Awareness on Mother's Day

Ahhhh life’s sweet regrets. I pose the question, should I (we) be having regrets at 25… already? I mean, sure, we’ve all had those moments where we think “I WISH I hadn’t done that” but we subsequently move on, and the memory doesn’t scar us in ways that repeat for years following.

I know at 18, I thought 25 year olds had it made; they were (generally speaking) in a stable relationship, money in the bank, house on the horizon, travel under their belt and career blossoming. Taking into account that people mature at different rates, at what point do we really need to have our ‘sh*t together’?

I’m 132 days in on my HSM challenge. What a journey so far. I know many people that are doing this HSM challenge probably aren’t going through the same ‘self assessment’ that I am, but that’s probably why I chose to do this in the first place. I didn’t like the person I was. I didn’t like the person I had become; and now I’m punishing myself for the good part of a decade of self abuse that allowed me to lose control, and shatter my dreams.

A close friend of mine kept a ‘self assessment’ piece I wrote for a school assignment when I was 17. She loved it so much she asked me if she could keep it, because she found it inspirational. Last month she sent it to me, as a reminder that she had kept it, and that it still inspired her. My own thoughts, at 17, inspired me at 25; and now I mourn the loss of that strong, powerful, ‘world is my oyster’ attitude, of a person who believed in herself.

“I am a moving person; I don’t like to stand still. If you cannot keep up with me and my life, then I might just leave you behind. I WILL BE SUCCESSFUL AND I WILL ACHIEVE THE GOALS I HAVE SET. I am and I will forever be confident in who I am and what I do. I WILL LIVE UP TO ONLY THOSE EXPECTATIONS I PLACE ON MYSELF AND NO ONE ELSES’. I will not fear the unknown, for the unknown can only be seen as a great thing. My future is unknown and to fear for my future would be to fear for my life. Life should not be feared, but captivated and embraced. ‘Live your life like you’ll die tomorrow.’”

KGH 20.5.2002

I cried when I read this. I realised that this person is still a part of me, a huge part of me.  For the last 8-10 years, I’ve not been following my own dreams, or my own expectations. I’ve been letting other people, other attitudes, other opinions get in the way of what I truly want to achieve. I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s a simple as that. My relationship with alcohol tricked me into forgetting what was truly important. But I guess that’s what I was asking it to do, when I made every decision to ‘write myself off’. I just wanted to forget. I wanted to forget that I’d not become the person I wanted to be. I wanted to forget that I hadn’t achieved the things I set out to do. I wanted to forget that the people who I most cared about had an opinion of me that was not one to be proud of. I just wanted to forget. It worked. I had forgotten; that is, until every bump in the road in the last 132 days has forced me to remind myself that it’s all real. All of it. Every regret, every hurt, every laughter, every fall, every up and every down. Oh it’s real. The shame is real, the loss of time is real, and the physical and mental damage is real. I’ll carry this experience with me for the rest of my life; the knowledge that I have the potential to absolutely self destruct.

There has been one noticeable improvement in my life in the last 5 months. Whether they realise it or not, from my perspective, my relationship with my Mum and Dad is a lot better. Mother’s day on Sunday was probably one of the best, for many reasons, but the most important reason was that I actually wanted to spend time with my Mum as an individual. I wasn’t hungover, I didn’t just hand over a present and then leg it. We walked/ran the Breast Cancer Mother’s day Classic, and we spent the day catching up, talking, eating, laughing, and having quality Mum/Dad/Daughter time. In the past, these moments were a rarity, mainly because of my mistreatment and attitude towards my parents. There was a lot of anger, resentment and disappointment that is probably a combination of my attitude, life, alcohol, and the irresponsible behaviour displayed that no doubt disappointed my parents. But that is another story to tell, on another day.

For now, it’s good to be here and feeling the love.

Happy Mother’s Day Mum,

Much Love

Katherine x

100 days…. is here! I’m relishing at the thought of passing the first milestone with flying colours. Yes, I’ve experienced plenty in the last 3 or so months. There have been moments of indecisiveness; there have been moments of happiness, sadness and overwhelming confusion. But there has been one constant, passion.

This little challenge, has me so emotional, I sometimes find it hard to talk about. Occasionally, I feel like crying at the overwhelming disappointment that I have experienced from my actions in the past few years. The fear that I’ll go back to my old ways grips me and stresses me in ways that only I can understand, yet the passion I have for completing 12 months sober has made living every day this year alcohol free, resisting every temptation, literally easy. I can honestly say that for the first time in many years, I finally feel passionate about something… something other than drinking. I’d forgotten how strong an individual I am, because I let self doubt and morphed self perception, dictate me.

The most positive outcome that I have experienced in the last 3 months has been control, physically and mentally. I know that with every emotion I have experienced this year, there is reason behind that emotion. I know that it is not because I’ve just spent 16 hours of binging, and subsequently I am consumed by overwhelming depressive and negative sentiment. It worries me that for so long, I suppressed so much of my anxiety, anger and emotional sadness that the term emotional baggage doesn’t even begin to cover the extent. Realistically, it’s almost a decade of using alcohol as a coping mechanism for all these parts of my life; and it’s literally come back to bite me on the bum. What better time to start focusing on developing the skills and expertise that I should have spent the past few years perfecting.  It’s never too late.

After 100 days, the hardest thing I have had to encounter has been my friends and family’s opinions of me. I said in my first blog that my reputation superseded me, it did.

It still does.

There is part of me that is still bothered by the fact that almost every person said I couldn’t do this, because I know I disappointed so many people with my behaviours in the past, including myself. I’m far from the end, but there is not a fibre in my body that believes I’ll fail. Failure is simply not an option.  I have a point to prove to myself, my Mum and Dad, my friends and to every single person out there that doubted me. I might stumble at the hurdles, but I won’t bail when it all gets too much. Focus. In fact, there is nothing right now, not even a life changing circumstances that could change my determination to finish this. This is how important this challenge is to me.

I’m happy to be on this path, and proud to be part of something that will create change.

I’m proud of myself.

Katherine

P.S Looking forward to seeing all the HSM people 18^th of April!

I am 56 days in. It’s not been too much of a struggle; as in, I haven’t woken up wanting to have a drink. But there have been instances where a nice gin and tonic in the sun, with friends wouldn’t go astray.

That said, how long does it take to change a habit?

This question stems from a conversation I had with a friend the other day, about how exciting the first drink will be after 12 months sober. The word I am going to focus on, from that conversation, is ‘exciting’.

During this conversation we talked about that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you have you first drink of the night. Where bubbles cascade over your tongue, it hits the back of your throat,, down into your stomach and you get that warm sensation that engulfs you and you start to relax. It concerned me that my romancing of that feeling, was

a) quite accurate

b) had too much connotative nostalgia

c) prompted me to remind myself ‘only 10 more months’

I want to change. This is the whole reason I am doing this. I don’t want to be the binge drinking ‘trash bag’ that I am so fondly referred to by my mates. I don’t want to be the irresponsible drinker, I don’t want to be the crying, emotional wreck that inevitably happens after a few too many.

So why do I feel so excited at the prospect, after 12 months of completed soberness, that the best way to celebrate would be to get completely blotto with my mates and ‘live the dream’ again?

It kills me that after 2 months; I am missing big nights out. Yeah, it’s been great having Sunday’s where I wake up and I am actually coherent. It’s even been great to wake up some days and say thank god I’m not one of those people I was out with last night. But I feel like I am missing out on something, but I can’t pin point what it is? I feel like I am mimicking an attitude that some of my friends have that “it’s alright, she’ll be back to normal next year”, and I feel sad about that.

Although I know there is no way I will break 12 months, I can’t help thinking that I hope my attitude really does change by the end of the year. Because, what if it doesn’t change? It’s easy to be more self aware and asses ones own behaviour – but how do I change my overall attitude? Is just stopping drinking cold turkey for 12 months really going to achieve that? Do I need to be doing more?

These are just some questions, I have.

Stay tuned,

Katherine

I mean, if you break up with someone that lives in Canberra… chances are, you’re lucky if you get past the one month mark without bumping into, their family, their best friend, or them.

To be honest, I don’t’ want to be all ‘D-town’ with my entry – I just want it noted that this week was tough.

Ex’s are exes for a reason.

But when they still manage to wash away the anger and resentment with a flash of a smile, it’s like your whole world falls apart from the inside.

I knew it was going to happen. It’s Canberra.

And I’d played it out in my head about a thousand times.

But the rehearsals didn’t make the final cut; I almost crumbled under the pressure.

Enter life saver #1 – Sobriety Challenge/HSM.

Thursday night – I can actually guarantee that the 2009 Katherine would have already been at least 6 drinks deep, emotionally unguarded as a result, and tears and embarrassment would have ensued.

The 2010 Katherine, was composed, polite, amicable, seething on the inside, but proud of herself. I looked good.

I’m not going to lie, it was awkward. It was tough. For the last 4 days, the ramifications of that night have overflowed into my 2010 personal life. It is potentially damaging something beautiful I have with someone else.

What I’ve learnt is:

• That running doesn’t fix anything.
• Masking my pain with alcohol, and numerous other distractions delays the obvious.
• I can choose to feel the way I want to feel.

Thursday night stabbed me in the gut, it wacked me in the head, it slightly penetrated my heart – but I walked away just that little bit stronger; just that little bit more proud; and just a little more wise; and on the road to recovery.

I said that HSM was going to be journey – with many obstacles. I can’t even thank myself enough for accepting this challenge; for me. It’s moments like these, that clarity and lucidity of sobriety are my best friends.

Vodka Highschool

Location: The Ox Nightclub – Bathurst, NSW
Event: Best Friend’s Birthday
Clientele: Liquorice Allsorts
Music: Electro/Top40/Harrowing remix’s of quality R&B
Opinion: Read on.

I went out clubbing for the first time this year on Saturday night and I experienced a night in which, if I could have had a dollar, for every woman in the place who had something negative to say about another woman who was in the club, I’d be half way to New York right now, on a Jimmy Choo shopping spree.

In the past, how I failed to notice that nightclubs resemble somewhat of a high school hierarchy, doesn’t escape me: thankyou, alcohol.  Saturday night I felt like I was the new kid, on the first day of school, who hadn’t hit puberty yet, and had let her mother dress her. (No offence mum)  Needless to say, I felt awkward. 

I was uncomfortable from the moment I set foot into the nightclub, until my 1am exit. I suspected I was being judged every minute of the night. It was only when I was able to conceal myself within the masses on the dance floor that I felt I could relax. I’m not sure why I was on my guard the whole night. It probably had something to do with not wanting to get another drink spilt on my dress, or that I was actually trying to control myself from punching out the obnoxious 18 year old turbo’s that were spouting racist and sexist taunts towards another group, or that fact that the ladies bathroom was an avenue for every female in the club to congregate and tear strips of other women in the club, just to make themselves feel better. It was like high-school ALL over again. Only everyone was maggot, and had no filter on their opinions.

I asked myself this question, numerous times throughout the evening. Is this what I am like every time I go out on the turps? Conclusion: Probably.

I saw a fight between a group of young guys, probably over a girl – but you could sense the bouncers ‘fed up’ attitude with the repetitiveness of it.

 I saw a pretty girl spew, or at least watched her run into the stall, and deduced that conclusion from the painful sounds she was making.

 I saw a girl be publicly humiliated by; I’m assuming her casual fling, who didn’t want a bar of her, as he was trying to chase another pretty blonde in the other room.

 I saw 95% of the female population complain, or walk with difficulty due to their foot attire. (I am including myself in this statistic)

 I saw some horrific convulsive like dancing techniques.

 Conclusion – it was an experience that I had been dreading, and avoiding, but am glad that I managed to get through it fairly unscathed.

It’s not an experience I will be in a hurry to repeat, but I do feel that it is something I will need to work on throughout the year. My self perception, and esteem took a bit of a battering, but jumping in the deep end will only help me, not hinder. It is amazing how, in the past, with a couple of liquid courage’s’ under my belt, the insecurities fade, and the confidence exudes. I am looking forward to the days when this is the attitude I have, but with the clarity of sobriety.

So with that in mind, and another achievement under my belt, I will continue to challenge and push myself out of my comfort zone and be proud of what I have achieved so far.

Stay tuned,

 Katherine

I’d like to just take a few moments here to introduce myself, and give you a bit of insight into my world, and how being a part of Hello Sunday Morning is going to help shape my life in a more positive way.

I am 24 years old, a Uni student, and a stereotypical socialiser that relates to both these demographics. Truth be told, I am a total party girl.

I was born on the tropical island, Christmas Island off the coast of Perth, and I now live in Canberra, ACT. If you ask my Dad, he’ll tell you “I knew she was going to be tough, when she walked up to me at 2 years old and handed over her favourite blanket with the proclamation “I don’t need this anymore”” – He’d say this was a pivotal moment in my life, I’d say it’s a reflection of the type of person I am today.

ENTER SPORT:
From about 8, I started playing tee-ball, modball, and softball. I loved it. It was my life. While other girls at school were talking about hair, boys and makeup – I was rocking up to school dances with shorts and an Adidas t-shirt on. I wasn’t cool, I was a ‘sporto’ – which was basically the only reason I wasn’t hassled.  I was my own person, with my Australian Olympic Softball player dreams, and an attitude to match. I lived, breathed, and slept softball. My motivation and dedication landed me in two Australian Merit teams, and a two year scholarship in Florida, USA to play softball for Manatee State College of Florida. Two of the best years of my entire life.

ENTER ALCOHOL:
My parents have always been the definitive wine connoisseurs and have taken great pride in educating their children in the joys of a full bodied Shiraz, or a crisp floral Sav Blanc. Always careful to warn the effects of over indulgence of alcohol, you could say I grew up in a household that was discerning in enjoying the pleasant taste of alcohol, and not the over-consumption.

I’m not sure exactly when my immense joy of ingesting copious amounts of booze started, but if my track record is anything to go by, my binge has been for occurring for years! It actually shocks me to write that.

From simple celebrations such as birthdays, to Christmas, to New Years, to ‘just for the hell of it’ nights, I always managed to wind up the next day with a killer hangover and a memory that was not dissimilar to that of a 90 year old woman.

I can’t even count the amount of people I’ve lost as friends, or relationships I’ve damaged all due to alcohol. It’s embarrassing. It’s shameful. It’s not the person I am in ‘Sober Land’. But I think that’s precisely why I binge. The elated confidence, the power that comes with that, combined with my leadership personality, I’m lethal.

Prior to 2010, I can’t actually remember the last time I went out dancing, or out to the city, sober. I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count the amount of times I’ve told myself to only have one or two drinks, and ended up at 15, gyrating on the dance floor with an equally inebriated partner. I’m embarrassed to write this, yet I know at the time I would have felt Queen of the court.

ENTER HSM CHALLENGE:
I am an outer layer of façade, with an inner component of normalcy. As a mid-twenties woman, with emotional baggage to boot, my biggest asset is my self preservation which comes hand in hand with my innate ability to not deal… with anything. Denial is a powerful thing. In a moment of truth, and private self honesty, I came to the conclusion in October 2009 that I had not achieved any of the goals, or dreams I had set out for myself in the last three years. The disappointment that I had ignored for so long was paramount. It was time to change. The mornings of waking up with a hangover that could actually murder a brain, needed to end. The days of having 16 hour binges and spending an entire week recovering, being in total Depressed-ville, only to be a repeat offender the next weekend, were over.

No one thought I could do it. Not even my some of my best mates. “I’d pay to see that”, “No chance, Fail” just some of the common responses. It shocked me that my party and alcohol attitude was so ingrained in my friendship circle, that my reputation preceded me, but these responses only motivated me more to prove everyone wrong. Did I mention, I love a challenge? I’ve taken my friends and family up on their ‘I’d pay to see that’ offer, and all their money, (when I’ve finished the challenge), will go to Camp Quality, to help raise money for kids with Cancer.

Through six degrees of separation, someone somewhere knew someone in HSM, who happened to know someone who wrote an article about my Sober Challenge for 2010 in the Canberra Times newspaper. It’s through this avenue that I now find myself on a journey that I can already tell will be one that is of great personal growth.

It’s been two weeks in, and I have a long road of soul searching and self motivating. If I achieve nothing this year other than the challenge of course, but to improve my self belief, self esteem, and dedication, then I am already leagues ahead of where I’ve been for the last 3 years.

 “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear”

 Stay tuned,

 Katherine