It’s my 6th sober summer. Six years of something in my glass that isn’t rosé or an Aperol Spritz (are people still drinking those??). Six years of waking up after the August bank holiday and feeling good - refreshed, rested, energised and with a happy heart after a long weekend. That’s how you are supposed to feel after the weekend, by the way. Not more tired, quite crabby, a bit overwhelmed and ready for an *actual* rest.
I wish I’d known six years ago that it just gets easier, and it just gets better. Waking up on a Sunday morning feeling good is a feeling that NEVER gets old. I still smugly pat myself on the back when I have a hangover free weekend, because the alternative is too grim. I hope I never go back.
I don’t want to write an end-of-summer-soon-it’s-Christmas post, but frankly, it might be veering that way. And a sixth sober Christmas will be something to celebrate too. The one thing summer and Christmas (and birthdays) have in common are that they are massive excuses. They are reasons to keep on drinking - “I’ll stop after our week in France, I want to be able to have a drink then.” “I can’t ditch the drink in December, it’s nearly Christmas!” “When I’ve turned 40 I’m going to stop drinking, but I’ve planned a party and booked a DJ.”
I couldn’t care less. Keep drinking for that week in France (and come home feeling fuzzy afterwards.) Have another drunken Christmas where you fight about politics with your parents and overcook the turkey. Enjoy your birthday party, but you’ll have memory gaps and you’ll feel shit the next day. I’m only interested in when you have decided that actually, the time is now, enough is enough, let’s fucking go. That’s the turning point, the tipping point, the moment when shit gets real. It’s also when the magic starts.
Sure, keep putting it off. But when you are done with that, have a think about what the alternative looks like. I promise you, it’s more rosy than rosé, you’ll sleep better than you ever thought possible and you’ll get back your sparkle. In the meantime, good luck with those Sunday mornings….