The Day Wolfie Ran A Marathon

Now I’m further away from my last drink, what ‘the wolfie voice’ means to me is slightly different. He’s no longer telling me to neck wine, but operates in more subtle ways, eroding my self esteem with his negative chatter.

One place I thought I was free of negative self talk was running. My running club friends call me ‘smiler’ because no matter how hard the race or bad the weather, I’m always beaming as I run. Not yesterday. 

This wasn’t my first marathon, but it was certainly my toughest. 

Before Christmas, I’d completed a marathon with a PB I was REALLY proud of and came into this race feeling strong and confident. Surely, all the training plus not drinking for 3 months would mean I could achieve a similar time?

The city I was running in was bathed in glorious sunshine, and I was really excited as the crowds danced to the pre-race music. I had my power playlist ready, checked my sobriety counter and felt a little swell of pride as the pack of runners moved off.

The first 10k was hot, crowded and a little too fast for my liking, so I stopped to take an energy gel and douse myself in cold water. From that moment on, the wolfie voice was in my head the whole race: ‘Look how hard you’re finding this, LAST time you ran a marathon you had the remnants of a 2 day hangover. Sobriety’s not working out so well for you eh?’ (WHAT THE ACTUAL F**K?!) and more general negativity: ‘You’re so weak, so tired, what a failure…’ etc etc

Having 20 miles of that sort of head noise is soul destroying. A fair few tears were shed on the course as I contemplated dropping out. I knew all my running friends were at home checking the race app to follow my split times every 5k and my ego was severely bruised. Should I fake injury and drop out?

All I could turn over in my head between miles 18 and 19 was whether this was a horrific enough experience to warrant a drink. Again, madness. I knew I wouldn’t, but I tortured myself with that thought over and over again. 

Some lessons must have been learnt on that course, with wolfie running along beside me, whispering his venom. What those lessons are right now, I’m not sure. I’ve been upset and irritable all day, but I’m trying to remember that completing a marathon is a huge achievement whether it takes you 3 hours or 5 hours and that it’s a privilege to run at all.

Tonight involves a bath, clean sheets and an early night to reward myself for getting through.

Happy Monday lovely sober bloggers!

SOS

I am in an absolute f**king state. 

Excuse my language. 

But they say when you’re getting sober, you shouldn’t change your job, your relationship or where you live in there first year of getting sober. Well, I’ve changed all of the above whilst trying to get sober, and now am in the process of trying to buy a house which today, with all the back and forth of offers, was the most stressful it’s ever been. 

Yesterday I got in touch with an old boyfriend who has been BESOTTED with me for years, and has in the past 6 months repeatedly said he wants to rekindle what we had. I pushed him away and away, trying to get sober, and when I was ready to get in touch again, he’s told me he’d found someone else. He was the one person I could count on, apart from my family, to love me wholly and completely for who I am, and now he’s gone. Maybe not forever, but for now, when I need him. 

Today is tough in so many different ways. I drank again today, after days sober. Not much, but I did. What the FUCK has happened to make me live this sort of life. It bears no resemblance to what my friends or family think of me. Nor what I think of myself.I just cannot believe I’m an alcoholic. But would I come back here time and time if I wasn’t?!??!

My liver still hurts. 

I need to go to AA, I think. Supportive online and texting friends plus the blogosphere apparently isn’t enough. I’m genuinely scared that one day I won’t wake up And I get too ashamed when things go wrong. I want everyone to be giving me gold stars all the time, and that aint gonna happen.

Breathing deeply now. I hope tomorrow feels brighter. 

Things Wolfie Says

A list of things wolfie says to make me remember what triggering thoughts I have. I’ve done alot of thinking and writing this evening and it’s really helping me feel better, more proactive and less miserable.

So:

You deserve it- The old classic. We all know this voice. You’ve been sober for (what feels like) ages so GO ON! Have a drink. A treat. You deserve it.

You were never that bad– you never blacked out, did anything truly embarrassing other than some enthusiastic dancing and a bit of staggering around. You don’t drink like alocholics do. You are just a young girl, having fun! Right wolfie, what about drinking alone in my room night after night, mindlessly surfing the internet, achieving nothing. Drinking mini-bottles of wine in the toilet at work to ease a hangover? Yep, totally normal.

These feelings are unbearable– you need to drink, wine is the only way. Wine makes these feeling worse, Wolfie mate. Shush. 

You’ve slipped up before, and learnt from it– why not slip up some more? Learn some new things? It’s all part of the process. FUCK OFF.

You don’t have a drinking problems, you just have a problematic mind- I do have both- I have problems handling things, but they’ve driven me to a drinking problem and I can’t go back to drinking normally now. Take a long walk off a short cliff, wolfie. 

This will never get easier– it will, it will, it will, right?

So all together now in festive chorus FUCK YOU WOLFIE! 

24 Hours in a Day

Before I ran a marathon a few weeks ago, one of my friends I was training with said to me: ‘the way I stop myself getting scared is by thinking this is just 4 hours out of 24 hours in my day, 4 hours of discomfort for the most amazing feeling when I finish.’ 

This week, I’ve been keeping this brilliant idea at the forefront of my mind.

My ‘witching hours’ are between 4 and 8pm, when I’m tired, a bit fed up at work and want to slip into a glass of merlot. 

Like clockwork, it’s come again today, the subtle creep of wolfie’s seduction dance. I can taste the wine and anticipate myself relaxing, but I won’t give in. 

I’m keeping focused and strong, it’s just 4 hours out of my day where he creeps in, and I’ll feel amazing tomorrow when I’ve kicked his arse.