Hello and happy Friday!
So, stuff opened up in England this week. Tables were put outside of cafes, people sat on the pavements outside pubs, and the world got properly dressed again.
It was lovely just to hear people chatter, to feel a lightness of mood, to feel hope. I sat outside of Stone Bros, the cafe near me, on Tuesday. It was sunny and I ordered pastry and coffee and listened to the burble of conversations around me and I thought I was in heaven. How wonderful to be around people again!
That night I went to the pub and being with people didn't feel so wonderful. I didn't know what to say , everything I did say felt a bit wrong and it was cold sitting on a pavement at 10pm.
The next day I went to the hairdressers. On my way in, a man took a selfie of his freshly hair cut. He grinned at me and I grinned at him. He looked reborn which was how I expected to feel after restoring my 'natural' hair colour.
At first it was lovely to smell the shampoos and be in the bustle and glamour of a salon. But then I got tetchy. The salon was running behind — totally understandable — and a woman next to me was on a conference call for 2 hours and it annoyed the f**k out of me. How rude! Obnoxious! I didn’t want to hear about ‘data-driven democracy’ and the importance of ‘customer experience stories’ and - God, everything was so noisy. Music, hair dryers…by the end of my trip, my nerves were shot but my hair did look good.
So there you go — the week back was heavenly and irritating. It’ll take some adjusting. I’ve been head-down book writing, first draft is not finished yet but it’s going well. For this week’s newsletter, I’ve asked my friend Jo to write about why she is not so happy about pubs opening. I’ll have a round up of all the usual bits and bobs at the end.
xx
I’m Scared Of Pubs Opening By Joanna Kelly
The pubs are reopening and I’m scared. I’m about to celebrate four months of sobriety and I’m genuinely afraid of losing the progress I’ve made this year after a decade of being a party animal.
A few years ago I once got so drunk in east London that I fell asleep on the Central Line, woke up in Stratford, fell back asleep, woke up in West Ruislip, fell back asleep, woke in Stratford, fell back asleep, and eventually woke up in Stratford again where I lived. It was 8am when I groggily tried to click out of the ticket barrier that wasn’t letting me through. The TfL guy got irate and said that I’d been on the Tube for three hours. ‘What the hell have you been doing?’ he asked with a horrified face. ‘Mmmmgghhhh,’ was all I could reply, before he buzzed me through the gate and let me go home where I fell into bed.
Memories like this make me shudder and there are many of them. I’ve fallen asleep on countless night-buses, taken £80 black cabs, waited for the first Tube in the pouring rain, missed my stops and ended up in the middle of nowhere late at night. Sometimes, I don’t even know how I got home. The next day, I’d text friends and ask ‘Are you alive?’ Then we’d laugh about it and do it all again the following week.
But it really wasn’t funny. And they weren’t really friends - they were co-workers who would vanish and leave me on my own in random clubs and pubs from Dalston to Camden. They were my introduction to the city after moving to London in my late 20s. It seemed fun at first but I’d end up spending more time talking to the guys behind the counters of chip shops than anyone else - although they gave excellent life advice and it helped that their halloumi wraps were good soakage.
I’d play up to a carefree persona, always up for a pint and the last one to leave the party. But over the years, I put myself in dangerous situations and didn’t have anyone to take care of me. Most importantly, I wasn’t taking care of myself. My exterior self was a female Withnail. But nobody knew about the frightened person underneath it all. They didn’t ask. But I was very alone and lost. I would cry in the toilets at work, I’d cry going back to an empty flat, and if I wasn’t asleep on the bus home from a night out, I was crying there too.
Like a hard-drinking ladette cliché, I was sent to The Priory for depression. Then followed a diagnosis of PTSD and OCD by a Harley Street doctor. Things started to make sense. I was masking my chronic anxiety and unhappiness with alcohol and a false self. I was making up for my lost teenage years by trying to attend every party possible. I did not want to miss out. I was like a dog whose owners left the gate open.
I spent so many years chasing hedonism and ways of avoiding solitude. Some of it was fun, but most of it was empty. If you saw my social media updates, you’d think I was living a full life without troubles. My cousin, who has three kids, revealed that she envied my freedom. ‘But I want your life,’ I replied. She had security and a loving husband she met in university. She had a house, had her parents nearby, and was content and wholesome. Meanwhile, I was falling out of all-night clubs in Vauxhall and bouncers knew me on a first-name basis.
Then lockdown happened. I took up art. I spend time in nature. I’ve even started cooking. I make a mean mushroom soup. I don’t wake up next to garlic-cheesy chips or bags of Burger King from the Tottenham Court Road anymore. I’ve collected a vast array of herbs and spices that I’m oddly proud of. I get excited by new kitchen implements. You should see my new George Foreman grill - I can cook three types of vegetables on it at the same time. Three!
Most importantly, I’m completely sober. And both my mind and soul love it. Gone are the messy nights out saying and doing embarrassing things. I don’t send soppy messages to people who can tell I’m hammered. I talk with a clearer voice and wake up feeling renewed. It’s a plus that my jowls are disappearing, but quitting wasn’t for appearance’s sake. My spirit needed a break. Friends are commenting that I sound better. My brother couldn’t be happier, he’s worrying less about me these days. It’s really wonderful. I feel alive in new ways every day. My memory has improved, my heart palpitations have stopped and my moods don’t fluctuate as much. I’m better able to deal with my problems by facing them rather than drowning them out. I’m getting to know myself without inflammation, brain damage and self-destruction.
It all sounds boring - but I’m happy being boring. Boring is good. It’s healthy. It’s a whole new world.
And now that the pubs are opening again, I’m afraid that I might be sucked back into old ways. Having just moved to party-town Brighton, this is a real possibility.
I can just imagine it...
One glass of fizz and I’m elated and in love with life. The night is young and full of possibility.
Two glasses and I’m laughing loudly. No problems here, why do I worry so much? My brain is electric.
Three glasses and I’m slurry and nonsensical.
Four glasses and I need something more to keep my chemicals firing. I feel the darkness waking - problems and traumas rise up.
A whole bottle down and I’m beginning to fall over. But I’ll want more. The beast has been prodded. Just don’t let me feel bad, I want to be numb.
And repeat.
I don’t want to go back to being this person. I want to feel things, good and bad. Letting go of old coping mechanisms allows my emotions to get unstuck so healing can begin. It helps my good spirit to flourish while the demons get smaller. It adds light to my life, not anguish. It’s fresh energy and I am wholeheartedly embracing it. It almost feels like a super-power. Nothing is going to bring me down if I’m in control of myself, my actions and crucially - my health.
I haven’t seen all of my Brighton friends since moving down. There’s going to be many reunions in the next few weeks - beer gardens, pubs along the seafront, barbeques and large gatherings especially as summer rolls around. The odds of me being able to avoid alcohol are slim but I’m determined to stick to my guns. I’m not going to draw attention to it, I’m just going to quietly order lemonade and hope they don’t resort to peer pressure.
Dru Jaeger, co-founder of alcohol-free advocates Club Soda and author ofHow to Be a Mindful Drinker: Cut Down, Stop for a Bit, Or Quit, believes that the majority of people aren't pushy when it comes to not drinking. He says: ‘Most people will want to support your choices, and after such a long time not socialising together, they will be pleased to see you whatever you are drinking. If you're clear that you want something without alcohol, it should be no more controversial than wanting something without gluten.’
He adds: ‘Be clear about what works for you, and stand your ground with confidence. And remember, whatever the occasion, drinking is never compulsory!’
Club Soda’s other advice is to check menus in advance if you can, which is even easier now that we can only order via apps. It also turns out that low to zero-alcohol alternatives are getting more sophisticated - Becks Blue, Nosecco and vitamin-enriched Erdinger Alkoholfrei are surprisingly tasty options.
Dawn Comolly, of Sober Fish, says: ‘If you’re in early sobriety, perhaps consider whether the pub is the best option for you right now? Maybe a funky coffee house or beautiful Italian garden restaurant would be more sensible, with lots of food and much less temptation? Or if the pub is the only option, why not drive there (unless it’s next door!) and just stay for a couple of hours rather than torturing yourself all night?
‘Remember, although now is a time for celebration, it doesn’t have to be time to ruin all your hard work. It should be about people and connection and catching up and being free, all things that are far more authentic than downing pints and talking shite that you barely remember..’
I'd like to make it to the end of the year totally sober. Yet I don’t want to be a moraliser or alienate the people I yearn to see. But my fear is that ‘just the one’ will end up with me swinging from Brighton Pier with the coastguard circling and choppers overhead.
So for now, I’ll be using the lyrics of a song my nana used to sing, ironically, down the pub every Sunday: ‘One day at a time sweet Jesus'...
You can follow Jo on twitter.
WHAT I’M READING
Another article on brain fog! It’s very good.
This article on the joy of hugging
And this on the bob being back!
WHAT I’M WATCHING
Still on the Line of Duty and Parks and Recreation combo. I also rewatched the Taylor Swift documentary Miss Americana on Netflix this weekend. So many good lines in it about what it’s like to be a (young) woman: ‘I’m only here because I work hard and I’m nice to people.’
‘If you’re thin enough you don’t have enough weight to have that ass that people want - it’s all just fucking impossible.’
‘A nice girl doesn’t force her opinions on people, a nice girl smiles and waves and says thank you, a nice girl doesn’t make people feel uncomfortable with their views.
I was so obsessed with not getting in trouble I was like I’m just not going to do anything that anyone can say anything about .’
‘You have to twist yourself into a pretzel on an hourly basis.’
WHAT I’M BUYING
Dandelion coffee - as part of mission brain fog, I’ve been following a six week Midlife Reset Programme by Maryon Stewart. I’ll write more about it another time but one of the suggestions is to replace normal coffee with Dandelion root and it is surprisingly good! You make it in a normal coffee plunger and it is brown and rich and surprisingly coffee like. I did however have proper coffee in the coffee shop this week…
Writing for Fun and Sanity is back! Woohoo! Click here for tickets for this Saturday and next Saturday and we’ll have May’s tickets up soon. Fancy new graphics from Ayesha Mansour at Aah Yes Studios.
PS The audio will be back soon! Xx
Can I please pass on my compliments to Joanne - I absolutely love her writing! Literally, her words could have been mine. For me, there was a bit of a withdrawal process getting away from pubs, but now that I'm out there is so little interest for me anymore. And as time has gone on, few of my friendships form around a pub anymore either. Wishing her best of luck with this journey xxxxxx