Things I wish I had known: An alcoholic’s guide to sober October

"Only by remembering that I am an alcoholic – and doing the work to stay sober – do I get to be everything else," write Bryony Gordon. Photo / 123RF

OPINION

The best thing about being an alcoholic in recovery – other than the fact you get to keep your family, your home, your job and your mind – is that you get two birthdays, like the Queen you are. There’s your “belly button” birthday, which seems a curiously childlike term given that most alcoholics are hardened enough to know exactly where babies come from, and your sobriety birthday, which is self-explanatory.

I recently celebrated my sixth sobriety birthday, which is as miraculous as the idea of Laurence Fox announcing he would like to stand for the Women’s Equality Party. To give you some idea of how unlikely my sobriety is: when I washed up in rehab, I told the counsellor that I reckoned I had drunk my lifetime’s allowance of alcohol by the age of 37. “Five people’s lifetime allowances,” corrected the counsellor, having heard some of my more egregious reasons for being there.

Back then, I couldn’t imagine a life without alcohol. Now it is hard to imagine one with it. But I talk about how it used to be a lot because I know how extraordinarily awful alcoholism is; how many lives it affects. And yet every time I mention that I used to be addicted to alcohol, some smart Alec will inevitably pop up in the comments and ask me to change the record. But I can’t change it, because it is only by remembering I am an alcoholic – and doing the work to stay sober – that I get to be everything else: a mother, a wife, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a writer, a vaguely useful member of society.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to recover loudly – in fact, because of stigma, most people don’t. I am immensely lucky not just to be sober, but also to be able to talk about it publicly. Most weeks, I am reminded of how important it is that I don’t pick up a drink, via the dozens of desperate messages I receive from people who can’t quite put their glass down. My quickest piece of advice is: put all your preconceptions aside and find an AA meeting. But given it’s now Sober October, I thought I would share a few of the other things I wish I had known when I was first trying to go alcohol-free.

Don’t give up

Most people think that falling off the wagon is a sign that they’re a failure. Really it’s just a sign that they have succumbed to a tremendously addictive, legal drug that is sold freely on supermarket shelves. I think it’s important to remember this: addiction is an illness, not a character flaw.

Don’t try doing it alone

Not least because you don’t have to. There’s AA, of course, but if you don’t fancy that, there are heaps of sober communities out there that can be found online: Club Soda, Tempest, One Year No Beer, to name but a few. Picking up the phone instead of a drink is an excellent way to curb cravings.

Remember that alcohol is a depressant…

… one that masquerades as a relaxant. It’s an Oscar-winning actor in that respect. But whatever you are trying to drink away, you will only have to deal with the next day, with interest added. It’s like being in debt to yourself. Better to try to ride it out by thinking about how you might feel in the morning if you manage not to have that drink.

Front-end your day

In the first few months of not drinking, I would get up terrifyingly early each morning. The reason for this was twofold: one, I would get to marvel in the fact I was up with the lark, when before I would struggle to get out of bed; and two, it meant I was exhausted by the evening, meaning I would quite often be in bed by 8pm. This suited me because evenings equalled alcohol and being tucked up in bed with a good book made them much easier to endure.

Moderation is a myth

Maybe not for your friend Steve who enjoys a glass of red a couple of times a week. And maybe not for Auntie Mary, who likes a sherry every now and then. But if you’ve tried to moderate before and can’t, the chances are you never will. It’s an unlearnable skill. You either have it or you don’t. I genuinely find it easier to have none than one.

Keep a horror book

A horror book is essentially a list of all the worst things you have done while drinking. It’s all the most mortifying, embarrassing episodes, the ones you really don’t want to write down in a notebook and keep on your person. The horror book acts as a handy reminder of why you shouldn’t drink. It’s not pretty, but remember: we’re drunks, not debutantes.

Eat a lot of sugar

I didn’t think I had a sweet tooth. And then I got sober, and realised that the reason I never craved ice cream was because I was getting all my sugar requirements from alcohol. I swapped pints of Stella for pints of Ben & Jerry’s. I worried I had replaced one addiction with another. My rehab counsellor told me to relax: “We deal with what is going to kill you first.” Don’t try to give everything up at once: it makes everything harder.

"I got sober, and realised that the reason I never craved ice cream was because I was getting all my sugar requirements from alcohol," says Bryony. Photo / 123RF

Drink non-alcoholic beverages if you must

But be mindful of something someone told me in the early days of my sobriety: non-alcoholic beers are for non-alcoholics. I found that a booze-free beer reminded me too much of the real thing, and so now steer clear of them. But everyone is different, so do what works for you.

Keep busy

But not so busy that you become highly stressed and start thinking about how nice a drink would be. Remember that alcohol will always be there, but your liver might not, much less your sanity. Push through cravings by reminding yourself that alcohol hasn’t been taken from you – you’ve just chosen not to engage with it.

Everything passes

This person who doesn’t think they can live without booze is one version of you, but it isn’t every version of you. I have done things I could never have dreamed of in the six years since I stopped drinking. I won’t lie: it isn’t always plain sailing. Not drinking can be hard, but I always remind myself that it’s not as hard as the alternative, which is having your one precious life dictated to you by the contents of a bottle. And finally, I leave you with this thought. That if even I can do it, anyone can.