‘I'm starting with the woman in the mirrorI'm asking her to change her ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change.’
Michael Jackson
I love these lyrics. (I used to love Jacko too, but that was before he went looking for himself and happened to find what he was searching for in the underpants of young boys. Allegedly, I should add - don’t sue me, Latoya).
But isn’t now, 2020, the most fucked-up, melon-twisting year of our lives so far, a good time to look in the mirror? Time to take stock of our lives in general? You might not be able to make the world a better place, but you can always work on making your world a better place.
Since starting this new blog If You Booze, You Lose, documenting my self-improvement journey to alcohol-free living, I’ve heard gossipy rumblings on the grapevine that I must be a full-blown alcoholic, said with the slightest whiff of schadenfreude. I’m sure none of you are losing sleep over this little conundrum, but for the purpose of clarity: I’m not an alcoholic. Not even close. (If you read last week’s blog found HERE, you’ll see that I explain exactly how I’d categorise myself). Haters, I’m sorry to disappoint you huns.
There hasn’t been any dramatic catalyst for this lifestyle change; no spectacular fall from grace. I didn’t get arrested; the bank aren’t threatening to repossess my house. No, I’m not about to be made homeless; you won’t need to avert your gaze as I ask if you can “spare any change please?” as I sit cross-legged outside the Sevenoaks Waitrose, my grubby palms pressed together like the praying emoji (I’m nearer Aldi actually, but those shoppers are generally as skint as I am, as a lone-living retail-working divorcee). No, I’m just a perfectly imperfect mid-life human being on a quest to be the fittest, happiest, most mentally agile version of myself. That’s it.
But then I got to thinking: why are some people so quick to throw shade on my parade, trash-talking my public declaration of discontent with my drinking habits? Dissing my endeavours. What is it that’s made them ask other, closer, (better!) mates of mine if I’m spiralling into the abyss? Genuine concern? Or maybe...fear?
Perhaps my admission has unsettled something buried deep in their gut, something they’ve pushed down, down, down - deep below Saturday’s Sauvignon and the greasy kebab that followed, deeper than the Sunday morning hangover cure comprising a fry-up and emergency diet Coke. This thing they’ve buried is so deep and uncomfortable that it’s given them acid reflux, a stomach ulcer, and is now finally being expelled from their gassy rear-end...and into my pals’ DMs. No wonder they’re talking shit - it’s been brewing for long enough.
This thing that’s bothering them about me giving up alcohol?
I reckon it’s their own deep-seated unease. Unease at their own lifestyle choices. Rather than reach out and admit their own failings, it’s easier to dismiss mine.
“It’s ok because she’s just a weak-willed alchy. I’m nothing like that...”
By telling themselves I have a serious problem, their own problem seems smaller, more manageable. How do I know this? Because I’ve done it myself. Not necessarily out loud, but I’ve certainly told myself in my head. I’m not as bad as that. It’s much easier to run with this narrative than confront the issue, head on.
I’ve looked in the mirror and decided a few tweaks are necessary, having caught sight of the bulging boiled-egg eyes the morning after, and the tell-tale half-drunk bottle of red in the background. (See, if I was really an alcoholic that bottle would be empty 😉). But by doing so this openly it’s as though I’ve swivelled that mirror round and held it up to you, too.
Do you like what you see?
If so, sweet. No Pepto Bismol needed for you. If not, what is your grumbling gut trying to tell you? Instead of ducking out of sight of the mirror, why not face it and join me on this journey? Perhaps we can bolster one another. I won’t bite, honest. (Well, not unless you get the absinthe out - that shit does strange things to people). If I’ve got a resting bitch face it’s usually because I’m thinking. (I don’t smile and think at the same time, that’d be like applying mascara with my mouth closed.)
I dare you to stand in front of the mirror and ask yourself to make a change. Look at yourself; really see yourself. Not just when you’re absent-mindedly brushing your teeth of an evening whilst rerunning the events of the day through your mind like a silent movie. Clear your mind and do it properly. Look past the face you show to the world, the bravado. Look into your eyes. Look within, into your soul. Are you truly happy, at peace with yourself?
Because unease, that deep-seated anxiety, or should I say the hang-xiety that comes with regular alcohol or drug use, or any addiction for that matter (food, gambling, sex) leads to disease. Dis-ease. Not being at ease in and with your self. What starts out as fun gradually drains your energy and dims your light. You’re brighter, sharper, funnier and better company without it. You don’t even need it. It’s taken me a long time to really comprehend that fact.
Life is a game of snakes and ladders, full of ups and downs. We are all players in this incomprehensible race, hurtling at speed towards the finish line: death. Now that’s one competition nobody wants to win.
Old habits die hard. So do addicts.
It’s time to make that change.
Day 15
Sam x
Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:
Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:
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