Sunday night. 9 weeks in.

I haven’t written for a bit as I’ve just been feeling kind of normal, kind of, well, just going to work, coming home, riding my bike, drinking decent coffee, sleeping well…you know normal stuff.

Hang on, I don’t ride bikes, sleep well, know what decent coffee tastes like… oh that’s right, I do now.

I thought that I had run out of things to say. Im not having the big realisations I thought were going to come by now. But I’ve noticed a few ever-so-slight different things…like the bike, the coffee, the good sleep.

So it’s all good. No complaints, no nothing.

Except tomorrow is 2 months into it, 1 month away from stepping away from my self-experiment. And I have been asked one question. What am I going to do in one month’s time?

December 1 is my 3 months up. And Im excited about having a beer, or a cider, or a glass of wine. I am also a bit apprehensive.

Will I lose my new found not-quite-habits-yet on my first savouring of pale ale? Will I not care that my new fondness for good unburnt-not-instant coffee might be too easily swapped for a big juicy glass of red? Might my brand new v-exxy bike start to gather dust & webs while I spend my weekends rekindling my romance with cider?

I can’t answer it now. I have four weeks to think about it though.

In the meantime I have my bike to ride, bloody good coffee to drink & sleep. Gorgeous sleep.

Weekend four.

Last night I can honestly say that I had a inner conversation that essentially was me pro-ing & con-ing the thought of sneaking a drink.

Just a beer. Just one. No one will know.

My rationale was that I had my first lone-shift at work. I worked my tailfeather off and was super-wired and was highly pressured. Remember, it’s a new job, lots of eyes on me.

I had a string of phone calls from a ‘grand final’ party that was happening at my brother’s place, & I was rushing to get out of work on time, but to make sure that everything was perfect before I took off.

Got to my brothers place. I could smell the beer.

Not that it was a filthy place, it was just all I could think about, and as usual, the drinks fridge (it’s the same size as the one in the kitchen) was full of beer, wine & a bottle of vodka was resting in the freezer section. With the enthusiasm of a damp towel, I asked for a soft drink.

It didn’t help that my dad was there. I have a weird, awkward relationship with dad. I’ve chosen to have him in my life sparingly. My fixation on a beer was suddenly overcome by something harder like the lonely bottle of voddy that was singing for my company.

I finished my un-buzzy drink & headed into the kitchen for some leftover potato salad and that’s where it started.

Just a beer. Just one. No one will know.

I nearly cried.

Right here, right now is exactly why I drink. It helps to not face situations that are weird or awkward. Or situations where my dad is present. Or situations where I have an excuse to be a smart-arse to people (‘awww, I was pissed, I didn’t mean it’). I didn’t want a drink. I effing needed one. It was the heaviest moment I’ve ever had with myself.

I walked away, ate a bit, drank my second mineral water, recognised my uncomfort, sat with it & simply carried on.

It might be just a beer, just one, but I’ll know.

I’ve been thinking a lot this weekend. Probably because Im not  hungover.

While I feel spectacular, Im actually feeling a bit, well, bored. But I’ll get to that in a bit.

Friday drinks after work was really difficult, I’ve had a really overwhelming couple of weeks in the new job and while I feel I’ve been doing well, I was never really sure. Then it happened. The boss pulls out a carton of the golden ale & all I wanted to do was pour that stuff down my neck. But I firmly said no, but it really wasn’t the same to sip on a cup of tea while everyone bonded over Becks. I didn’t feel like myself. I thought, god is this what Im really like? I felt like a hoax, disingenuous, that I was leading these people on to think Im some sort of clean living good girl. Like the shiny-new ‘ladies’ you see on the telly & I just don’t believe them, I can still see the ‘ladette’ smirk that gives away it’s all just a ruse.

So I just left. I felt like I wasn’t part of the group. I didn’t know what to do or say. I felt arrogant. I felt I had lost a really good opportunity to have a beer with my boss.

I also noticed my thought processes were going overtime, previously I would’ve drowned them. It took me ages to fully process my thoughts from the week, but this has been really interesting as Im heading into this week with a great frame of mind.

So what else presented itself this week? A bit of fun & a bit of boredom. Went ice skating for the first time in about 10 years, had an absolute ball & a super fun way of spending a booze-free Saturday night. But today being Sunday, is a typical hangover get-over day, you sleep most of the day, get HJ’s, see a movie then go back to bed then wonder where the day went. Today I almost felt like I had too much time on my hands, I went for a long walk along the coast, shopped, read the paper & still found myself moaning like a 5-yr-old that I was bored. Do I not know how to fill my days if Im not at work? Clearly I don’t – how awful that I’ve normalised a Sunday to be ‘boring’ because Im not hungover – like being hungover was ‘doing something’

How do you learn to make your own fun again?

OK, I have learnt something already, & it’s only the first Sunday morning I’ve said hello to for awhile.

I was really worried yesterday about the patronising kid-glove treatment my fam was going to inflict on me yesterday, particulary mum.

Well, truthfully I still haven’t told them, but later on, I pulled mum aside & just got it over with.

‘Im doing this thing’, I said with a sheepish, sage undertone.

‘I don’t want to announce it or anything, but I still think it’s a bit important’.

Mum immediately grabbed my left hand to see the sparkler that wasn’t there.

I proceeded to say quite ordinarily, that I’m not going to booze it up for awhile, but what I don’t want is a hoohaa around it, I don’t want the whispers that Im not drinking, or the supply of bubbly grape juice that “looks like champers” to feel included….I don’t want the why’s & how’s just yet, it was a snap decision that I don’t have an answer to just yet.

Well didn’t I underestimate my mum. She was awesome. I prayed & wished she would just be normal & cool about it, & holy smokes, she was better than that. No hoohaa, no big deal, just a kiss on the head & a ‘good for you’.

Underestimating my mum was lesson number one learnt.

The least I can do is give the rest of the fam the same courtesy. I’ll keep you posted on that one.

Oh & I forgot to say a very hello Sunday morning to everyone – Im having a bloody ripper day.

If I decide to give up on cheese (perish the thought) do I announce it? Not really.

If decide to get a mortgage, yeah, you might kind of announce it.

If something seriously life-changing like having a baby or getting married, an official annoucement is usually expected.

But booze?

I’ll let you in on my secret. I’ve just started a new job this week & it’s kickass, I loved my first 5 days. Until today. It’s Friday, and you know what that means – Friday drinks.

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I have written, rewritten & re-rewritten this post. Then I figured, we have at least 3 months. Im not going to rush this.

Why am I doing this?

My stepdad put it pretty simply a few years ago, ‘you’ll wake up without a headache & money in your pocket’

I have two friends that don’t drink booze. One is kind of a ‘straight-edge’ type & the other has been sober for nearly a year. Im obsessed with thier rationale. They  just stopped. Just like that.

Suddenly, it happened to me. I want to stop the boozing. Among many, many other reasons & rationales, I want to wake up without a headache & have money in my pocket.