Happiness, Mindfulness, reflection

Evidently, I’m angry.

Over the weekend I had a row with a neighbour over the bins.  Admittedly we had parked in her parking space, which is always annoying, but despite apologising and moving the car straight away she wouldn’t give up with the shouting.  So, in true grown up fashion I shouted back.  About the bins.  About the fact that the people who rent her AirBnb apartments use the wrong bins.  All. The. Time.  But that wasn’t enough.  I kept replaying the conversation in my head, finding ways to prolong the drama.  I knew I was doing it, but I just couldn’t stop myself.  I could see the negative behaviours, and I could feel how it was affecting me.  

So I turned to a friend and asked her, is it enough just to spot the behaviour, or is there a way of working out why?  Why did it happen? Why was I feeling that way? Her response, “Is there a part of you that wants to lash out at something / someone else and you don’t feel safe to do so”?  And there it is.  Hit the nail on the head.

We’d just returned from visiting friends and my parents’ and we’d hired the car.  I don’t like driving but wondered is it the driving that’s the problem or the destination I am driving to.  I fill my time around my parents with visits to friends, anything to avoid staying in the family home for longer than is absolutely necessary.  

My childhood wasn’t completely awful.  I have some good memories.  But there were some aspects that just weren’t that great.  They have never been addressed.  We’ve papered over the cracks and moved on, whilst pretending to the world that we have a loving family.  It’s a home filled with arguments, bitterness, jealousy, blaming others and worst of all boxes.  Mental and physical boxes, that I’m expected to fit in to, because we must maintain the public image at all costs.  That of the loving family that we are.  But we aren’t and I feel the contrast between my family home and that of my friends.  I feel it to my core.  

So yes.  When I came back from the visit I was angry.  So very angry about everything and I needed to lash out.  But I cannot lash out at the people that I want to.

  • I feel guilty about not living nearer to my family home – I used to and believe you me, it was much easier.
  • I feel guilty about not caring about the fact I don’t live closer to my family home.
  • I feel guilty that my parent’s neighbours are doing their shopping and mowing their lawn because I don’t live closer.
  • I feel angry that those lovely people probably have thoughts and opinions about me not being there to do those jobs.
  • I feel angry that my parents are more than likely going along with that and playing on the sympathies of neighbours who only see the image that has been so carefully curated over the years.
  • I feel angry that I still can’t be myself in the family home.  That I’m still expected to fit into boxes.  Appropriate boxes.
  • I feel angry that my parents blame the world and his dog for the fact I rarely visit rather than accept or acknowledge any responsibility.
  • I feel angry that I didn’t get the family experience that I see my friends have with their families
  • I feel angry that the benchmark of success is what you have and not who you are.
  • I feel angry that I feel guilty
  • I feel angry that they can’t see how their behaviours have impacted choices I have made throughout my life.
  • Mostly I feel angry that I can’t tell my parents any of this and that it still impacts my life today.

You can safely say there was something / someone that I wanted to lash out at!

I’m generally very happy now, I have found my contentment with the world, so these flare ups do stand out more so than in the past when I was just plain angry and scared.  The thing I am noticing increasingly is the effect that this tension has on my body. I’ve been in Bristol for the past three months and have cleaned up my act.  I’m exercising daily. Doing exercises to help keep my body moving.  Eating and drinking better.  I have a belter of a physio who is peeling away the onion layers that is my body.  I am pain free.  

During this past week my body started to cease up again.  The soreness returned to my back.  My left-hand ribs are so tight I’d begun to wonder if I had a problem with my bowels.  My diaphragm is tight and needed massaging to release it.  I know myself that when I tense-up I suck in my chest and lift my shoulders. When I don’t deal with these minor things they progressively get worse and I end up in pain.  But at least now I can feel it happening and respond before things go too far.  I’m reading a book called ‘Bliss Brain’ by Dawson Church.  In fact. I’m only one chapter in, but one passage caught my eye,  ‘When your body knows it will be listened to it can speak quietly.  A little rumble here.  A slight pain there.  We hear the message and take care of its needs’ (p27).  

Slowly, I am beginning to hear what my body is saying and to understand how the tension and stress is impacting what it feels.  I can notice the tension building and have some strategies to deal with it, a better understanding of what does and doesn’t work.  I still need to find ways to deal with the anger, to not let it simmer in my body and find ways to release it more effectively than shouting at the neighbours, but finally I feel like I am starting to make progress and to join up the dots.  I don’t know that I will ever resolve some of the issues that are making me angry – but with time I hope that I can lessen their impact and move on.

Albufeira, Happiness, reflection

I have Invented the World I see

I’ve been reading ‘A Course in Miracles’, which is a bit hard going and much of which goes over the top of my head.  There is a workbook to go alongside it, which is basically a statement a day which you ponder upon.  One of which was ‘I have invented the world I see’.  Like most days my initial thought was ‘don’t be so daft, of course I haven’t invented the world I see’.

But as the day wore on, I had moments of ‘oh, perhaps I have’.

  • Like my dad, I have an Olympic standard ability to spot the negative in everything that I see, so it’s highly unlikely that I will ever see a positive version of the world.  Why go with the positive when you can glean a negative out of a situation.  I assume the worst in every situation which means you don’t often get disappointed!  Likewise, I very rarely get excited by anything.
  • I also have a habit of projecting into the future – of how things might turn out – sometimes in technicolour and mostly with a negative flourish.  Oddly, things never quite pan out like I envision and I certainly haven’t won the lottery and believe you me I know what that would look like, and, how different situations will play out.
    Until fairly recently I was mildly terrified of the world due to my anxiety, but I never let that stop me from doing things.  I rarely think, I just do which is how I found myself on a boat in the Atlantic Ocean about to go para-sailing.  Clearly, if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t be doing it, but where’s the fun in that!
  • Despite being so negative I do have an unfailing belief in people and their ability to be nice and do the right thing.  Often, I am disappointed, but my default is always that there is good in everybody.

All of these are factors which influence the world I see, or the world I have invented.  My initial reaction also went along the lines of ‘as if I’d invent living in lockdown’, but realised it’s not necessarily about Covid and other events beyond my control, it’s as much about how you deal with those events 

Albufeira Marina

I think I might be overthinking and getting carried away, but also thought about how choices in my life have led to this point and how that has enabled me to invent the world I see.  How many choices do we make in life that lead us down a path and that path is a version of the world and influences how we view that world?

So, I am currently coming out of lockdown in Portugal.  In an apartment near the ocean.  An apartment that husband and I chose after looking at several.  In a town that we chose after coming on holiday here.  As a consequence of that choice when I finished teaching, we were able to spend more time here and as a consequence of Covid we decided to try spending even more time here.  This is just one of many choices I have made in life, some very good, some not so good, a few that were downright ropey, but they have all led me to this point and the version of the world I see.  I read a book ‘The Four Agreements’ by Don Miguel Ruiz, one part in particular really struck home:

“We only see what we want to see, and hear what we want to hear. We don’t perceive things the way they are.  We have the habit of dreaming with no basis in reality.  We literally dream things up in our imaginations” (Ruiz, p64) 

All of us have a different version of the world we see, and our choices have created that version, some deliberate choices, some choices that have been forced upon us.  For example, I didn’t choose not to have children, but as a consequence of that I made other choices: to go into teaching, to move back to Stoke-on-Trent for a while.  If I’d had a child, it’s unlikely I would have met my current husband and if I’d not met him, we wouldn’t now be sitting out Covid in an apartment in Portugal.

It’s not very often we think about the choices we made.  I was chatting to my sister recently and I was telling her about my latest degree.  I signed up with the Open University to study a degree in Classics but might swap to English Literature.  The thought of either made my sister’s toes curl – but for me the thought of studying science and maths makes me weep – and this goes right back to school.  I chose essay based, flouncy subjects at A level in particular, she chose maths and science.  It follows on then that she qualified as a physiotherapist and I did a degree in History and Politics.  She lives in the countryside, I am a city girl.  We’re from the same family, but due to choices we’ve made our versions of the world are very different.   

Then off we go down the rabbit hole of life.  But I found it quite fascinating.  How many people there are on this planet and each one sees the world differently.  That’s a lot of inventing.

Happiness, reflection, Spirituality

How Deep is your Faith?

To use the words of the fabulous Robbie Williams, ‘I sit and talk to God’.  On a fairly regular basis to be honest, passing the time of day, discussing what’s going on.  For a long time I have avoided this topic as I know it turns many people off. But, as part of an online course I’ve been doing, I’ve been encouraged to speak my truth – just put it out there – because what’s the worst that could possibly happen?  Much like my Grandparents, I have a deep, rich faith that guides me in everything that I do, like a core of steel that runs through my middle.  I will also admit for a few years now I have tended to avoid it, and pretend it’s not there, and treat it as an inconvenience, not something to be cherished.  I have reached the point where I want to own it and share it.  I’m not going to stand in the middle of the town with my microphone pretending I’m on speakers corner!  I must admit, and I probably shouldn’t, that some of the best comedy moments in the centre of Bristol occur as a result of such speakers.  There is normally an avid audience of drunk, surprisingly knowledgeable homeless people sitting watching and giving their thoughts on the various points raised.  Nor, am I going to try to convert anyone!  For me faith is a quiet, private thing, that just fills my being, makes me who I am and influences how I live my life.

There have been various moments in my life when this has been evident.  The main one was in November 1997 when I found out it was highly unlikely that I would have children.  I knew in that moment, with a certainty right through my being that this was meant to be.  I don’t think I have ever been so certain of anything in my life.  (The day I met my current husband probably ranks up there as well, but that’s a whole other story).  I was never offered IVF, nor did I request it, but I’m afraid I knew and still know that there is a reason for everything and whilst I’m not sure I will ever know the reason why, having my own child wasn’t going to be a feature of my life.  Obviously, not agreeing with IVF is a difficult path to tread and so I tend to steer well clear.  As the saying goes ‘different strokes for different folks’.  But when I got asked the question, which I frequently did, as to why I didn’t have children and why I hadn’t gone for IVF, I got more than a few raised eyebrows when I said I didn’t believe in it!  Yes, I know I could have adopted too – but it’s not quite that straight forward and at the time when I was of an age where I would have considered it, I wasn’t in the ideal situation to adopt, further evidence that for whatever reason, children weren’t meant for me.  My favourite discussions on this topic were with children I taught.  I never shied away from the facts of why I wasn’t a mother but the best thing I ever heard from a student was ‘Well, that’s a shame Miss, you would have made a great mum’!  Unfortunately, as the years have gone by I have begun to doubt my initial reaction, with the constant questioning (because apparently, as a woman, the only thing in life that matters is having children) the constant bombardment of family focussed living, the numerous friendships that ended because our lives were headed in different directions – nobody’s fault, it’s just the way life is. Gradually as I found myself increasingly isolated I did begin to question my faith and my initial certainty that being childless was meant to be.

There is also the issue of having a purpose in life.  I won’t be leaving my mark on this world in the way most people do – that of having a child or grandchildren to remember them by.  This is where a lot of my seeking and searching stems from, that I must leave my mark on the world.  Like it or not, there is still so much pressure on people who don’t have children – people say there’s not, but 9 times out of 10 they have children.  So much of life today seems to be based on making your mark, making a difference, having a purpose, achieving your true purpose in life.  I have probably tried my hands at most things since I stopped teaching in 2015, trying to find that ‘thing’ which will give me a purpose in life.  But when you don’t know what that might be, it all becomes a little bit tricky.  If you add in very bad FOMO and raging impatience it all becomes even harder!  !  I struggle with trusting and waiting.  I want to know now!  I want to know why I didn’t have children, I want to know what my life’s purpose is and I want the answers now.  So, I seek and seek and seek a bit more to try and find the answers – rather than just sit and trust and enjoy where I am now.  I start a million things, but finish very few. I do very much fear that I’ve missed out on having a purpose, I might have already done it – maybe teaching was my purpose, maybe it’s yet to come – who knows, but I really, really would love to know and find trusting that I will know very difficult and incredibly frustrating and exceptionally slow!

As a consequence of not having children I’ve had to develop other ways of engaging in conversation with other people. You know how the conversation goes. ‘What’s your name?’, ‘Where do you live?’ ‘Do you have children?’ ‘No’. Oops, drawn a blank, move on. So, I can now talk to anyone, about anything and it doesn’t have to relate to children.  It’s not really a skill I realised I had until I was chatting to a friend recently who said, ‘It’s all right for you, you never had children, you can talk to anybody about anything’.  Whilst I ignored the ‘not-so-subtle’ slight at the start of the sentence it did make me realise that actually, I can do that, I can chat to anyone about anything and I am not particularly intimidated by walking in to a room full of people where I know no one.  Handy hint, football gets you a long way in this world and if you listen to the headlines on Radio 5 you will find out all you need to know about what’s current in any sport!  I have also done so many things that I wouldn’t have done if I’d been a mother – I wouldn’t have been a teacher, I wouldn’t have competed in triathlons, or run half marathons or visited any of the places that I’ve been fortunate enough to go to.  I wouldn’t have learned to make my own way in the world.  I have had to face up to my fear of the world every day and just get out there and get on with life.

Before we left Bristol for Portugal I gave the Coffee Boys who had kept us going through lockdown a thank you card.  Husband commented at the time that not many people would have bothered with that.  But I felt it was important that they understood the difference they had made to us at a difficult time.  The Coffee Boy was a bit bemused when I gave the card to him, but then after I’d explained what it was, his face lit up.  There was another chap that went to the coffee hut occasionally.  A lovely chap, and in keeping with my ability to chat to anyone, one day I asked him if he’d like a cup of coffee.  He was so shocked that a stranger would offer a cup of coffee and bizarrely I was the second in that week – so he clearly had something about him!  But sometimes that’s all you need in a day, a stranger to talk to you, to offer you a cup of coffee, just to know that someone noticed you that day – it turned out that he did live on his own and he came to the coffee hut, just to get out and see somebody different.  We spoke to him regularly after that, but I never did get to buy him a cup of coffee – but he did give me a thank you note which I stuck in my journal.  I also wrote letters to people during lockdown – so they had a nice piece of post coming through their letterbox to brighten their day.  

Perhaps that is my purpose in life, just to make someone smile every day, and do you know, I’d be happy with that.   Perhaps it doesn’t have to be grand at all. I also need to trust more, trust myself, trust that everything does happen for a reason and that I am in the place that I am meant to be.  Trust in my faith, trust that it will stand me in good stead in both the good times and the bad, and I also trust that when I do talk to God, he doesn’t laugh at my plans.  I just wish he’d be a bit quicker with the answers!  Although, as a friend of mine recently said, ‘God does seem to work to tight deadlines’.

Happiness, reflection, Spirituality

Should Says …..

Should says many things.  We live in a world of should and over the years the words of should have echoed in my ears and constrained the way I have lived my life.

  • I should try harder
  • I should work harder
  • I should be a mother (sadly I’m reaching an age where I should be a grandmother)
  • I should be quiet and I should also be louder or at the very least I should speak up more
  • I should sit still
  • I should grow up
  • I should be a good wife / daughter / sister
  • I should put the needs of others before my self
  • I should have a bigger house, car, TV, better phone
  • I should want more yet at the same time I should be content with what I have
  • I should be more ladylike
  • I should behave appropriately whilst I should also let my hair down a bit – I’d probably be more fun if I did
  • I should exercise
  • I should be thin
  • I should be on a diet
  • I should drink less and I should also drink more
  • I should expect less whilst I should aim high
  • I should have a successful career but I should also be nice
  • I should be a senior leader
  • I should be outstanding
  • I should be faster
  • I should look a certain way. I should have long hair. I should wear longer and shorter dresses.
  • I should get a tan, get a bit of colour
  • I should let go a bit, let my hair down, have a good time
  • I should be on social media. I should post 3 times a day for optimum engagement.
  • I should have more money of which I should donate more
  • I should get a job and I should volunteer
  • I should care less what other people think

It’s that last point that brings me to where I am today.  I’ve wrapped myself, no, I’ve bound myself, with all of these ‘shoulds’ that have bombarded me, and sadly, are becoming bigger and faster and more frequent in this modern world and I’ll be the first to admit myself that I’ve struggled to work out what matters and what doesn’t.  I have tried so hard to be everything I should be to everyone I should be.  Over the past month I’ve been doing a course with an Intuitive Guide that I found quite by accident at the beginning of lockdown and I find myself at this point, where I realise that in by focusing on should I have actually neglected who I am and what matters to me.  I’ve reached the point where the ‘shoulds’ that have bound me have been torn apart and my heart is poking through to say hello to the world.

I can name on one hand those people who have made it through the binds that wrapped me up so tightly.  The people who have laughed with me, cried with me, run, (cycled and swum) slowly with me, drunk soft drinks and Prosecco with me, sworn with me, eaten cake with me (and often encouraged me to eat more cake), talked with me, filled my head with fascinating facts and discussed things with me, explained things to me when my maths brain couldn’t cope, travelled with me, who haven’t cared if I was fat, thin, tall, short, that have encouraged me to be more, do more, aim higher, have more of what makes me smile.  Those people who’ve taken the time to find out more, to understand more about me, to go beyond appearances and dare to find out what it is that makes me tick.  Those people who’ve seen me at my worst and at my best.  Those people who really don’t understand what goes on in my head at times, but are still there, regardless.  Those people who’ve shared the best and worst of their lives with me and who still continue to inspire me every day.  

For a bit there I taught sociology to A Level and I will never forget the words of Erving Goffman who talked about the stages that we perform on throughout our lives and that we are never truly alone.  There is always someone that we are performing to and if we are not performing we are rehearsing for our next performance or critiquing our last performance – so even when we are alone we struggle to be ourselves.  The world of should feeds this and with the onset of social media and the internet, we are bombarded with a constant stream of ‘shoulds’, even down to how clean your house should be and things change so quickly, so regularly, life is temporary, throw away. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to be yourself, or stand out from the crowd, or even disappear from the crowd!  The props of life seem to be getting more and more and at the same time seem to be increasingly more important that life itself. 

So, what happens to a person who doesn’t want to live in a world of should.  I shall tell you. They are ridiculed, they are made to feel lesser than and bullied, as if there is something not quite right with them.  They are encouraged to change, to be more normal, to fit in a bit more, not draw attention to themselves quite so much, reign it in a bit, essentially to stop being who they are – primarily because it makes life easier for other people.  I remember I was running with some friends once, we were chatting away at the back of the pack, but careful to be in front of one woman who we always had to be ahead of and a chap commented that if we stopped chatting we could knock minutes off our times.  But where’s the fun in that?  Why should the only reason for entering a race be the result, why shouldn’t it be about the chit chat, the good bag at the end, the cup of tea and the cake!  The most fascinating people I know and have met along the way are those who quite regularly put two fingers up to should – who dare to be bold and dare to live life on their terms – and how often I’ve wished I could be more like them, but the bounds of ‘should’ were wrapped so tightly I couldn’t quite see how I could ever break free.

I’ve set myself a challenge.  To step out from the world of should, to let my heart shine, to do those things that make me smile, that truly make my heart sing and to finally stick two of my own fingers up to ‘should’.

  • It will be noisy and quiet in equal measure
  • It is both exciting and terrifying
  • It will involve the sand, the sea and the stars
  • There will definitely be music and dancing and laughter (and probably the odd tear or two)
  • There will be a yoga mat and a meditation stool
  • There will be swimming and cycling and God willing a bit of very slow running
  • There will be science and spirituality (although my brain will more than likely be a bit challenged by the science bit)
  • There will be writing and making and creating accompanied by swearing
  • There will be dreaming and twirling
  • There will always be cake

But most of all there will be more of me.

 

Food and drink, Healthy living, reflection, Well-being

Going Cold Turkey

One month ago, on 16th December 2019, I went Cold Turkey on everything.  By everything I mean:

  • Alcohol
  • Processed meat and red meat
  • Refined carbohydrates
  • Cake
  • Pastry
  • Cheese
  • Chocolate

Yes, I went Cold Turkey on anything ‘nice’ in the run up to Christmas, but with different degrees of success?

After 1 week I posted a picture of myself on Facebook.  I plan to post weekly then monthly photos of myself over the coming weeks and months, as much as anything as a form of measurement for myself as you how I am doing.  I don’t own a set of scales, so weight isn’t any indication of progress and anyway that’s not what the motivation for doing this is.

As I posted that first photo I had a range of responses including:  giving up everything would be just too boring; why would you give up everything that is nice; why not just over indulge and diet in January.  Here’s the thing, I had over indulged.  We went back to Bristol for the first two weeks of December and by the 15th December I was bedridden, exhausted, in pain, discomfort, unable to function.  Looking back I think I was also coming down with a bit of a bug, but even so, I was in no fit state to continue.  This is not new and this is not unusual; it is something I have managed for as long as I can remember.

Why am I giving up ‘nice’ things?

So, this is how it goes.  We get invited for an evening out.  The day of the evening out I have to sleep in the afternoon in order to have the sheer oomph to get through the evening.  Then I get ready, we go out and ‘sociable Steph’ arrives.  I drink, normally Prosecco or white wine and normally, two or three glasses – I don’t drink vast amounts because of how poorly it makes me. I eat the food: a starter, a main course and a dessert.  We may go on for a night cap after the meal.  Then we go home and go to bed.  Within the hour I am generally back up, feeling uncomfortable and ready to burst.  The discomfort grows and grows over the next few hours until all the food and drink vacates my body by any means at it’s disposal.  Then finally, I go to bed in the early hours of the morning and sleep.  As a consequence I do not function the following day, as I am sleep deprived and sore, my body aches from head to toe.  So, in fact, we have to set aside two days for me to go out for a meal with friends, one day to summon up the energy and one day to recover.  Most people chortle that we have to be home for my husband to have his afternoon nap – in reality I’m the one that does the napping – I’m the one that places limits on what we can do in a day.

Why, might you ask, do I put myself through this?  Because, by and large, this is what is expected.  Because this is what is considered normal.  Because I really don’t want to let people down.  Because, just for that moment in time I can join in.  Because sometimes it just becomes too hard to have to explain.

The problem is, when we went back to Bristol at the beginning of December we did this for 10 nights out of 19.  There weren’t enough ‘off’ days for me to actually recover.  So my body imploded, I was bedridden and I decided, enough was enough. 

A life within limits

Generally, this has been the picture of my life, I went to work, I put all the energy I had into going to work which meant at home I had nothing. I do blame having mumps as a child for leaving me with some fatigue issues.  Back in the 1970’s things like Chronic Fatigue didn’t exist, you just got on with life.   I also tend to avoid labels as to my mind, once you have a label your brain starts to think you are ill, and I don’t want to be going down that rabbit hole!  I have had pockets in my life when it wasn’t like this.  As a student, during which time I was tea-total I was fine, and everybody’s mate as I was a non-drinker in possession of a car!  I had another period of time between 2000 and 2007 when I lived in Stoke-on-Trent and socialised with many like minded people for whom alcohol was irrelevant.  I also exercised regularly and made sure I didn’t allow myself to get stressed, luckily I worked in an environment which was well managed.  I went to a nutritionist and ate a healthy, varied diet which excluded most ‘nice’ foods and I was happy – not 100% healthy but the closest I’ve ever been.

When I moved back to Bristol in 2009, I lost that all important support network, the job I went to was stressful and the school was badly run.  Consequently, I started to make poor choices regarding diet and health, I stopped exercising as regularly and over the years have become less and less like myself.  My social life also changed in Bristol and became more focussed around bars, eating and drinking – but my stressed self enjoyed it, it provided a welcome release from the grind of the day job.  But I was back to sleeping for most of the weekend.  Back to putting all my effort into other people, other things and being a transparent version of myself at home.

So, to December 2019.  Finally I woke up.  Four years ago I gave up work to spend time with my husband, to do our retirement thing, to travel and spend quality time together.  But we haven’t been doing that.  In many respects, and on bad days, my husband has essentially become my carer.  He is the one that gathers me up after we have been out.  The one who has had his sleep disturbed because I’ve been ill throughout the night.  The one that makes all the meals and tries so very hard to make sure they are as healthy as they can be.  The one that turns a blind eye to the messiness of our home because he understands that I just don’t have the energy to tidy up.  The one who does the washing, the ironing, doing as much of the housework that he possibly can, just so that I don’t have to.  The one that pushes me out of the door to exercise as he knows that although I am exhausted it will help me later on in the day.  The one who sits quietly and reads while I sleep during the day, all so that I can go out in the evening and be sociable, to have a drink or two, share a meal and to behave ‘normally’.  

What next?

I don’t want that life anymore.  I want to have the energy to enjoy time with my husband.  I’m tired of using all my energy on other people rather than my marriage. I want to be able to exercise when I’d like, not on the odd day when I actually feel well enough to bother.  I want to go to bed safe in the knowledge that I won’t actually be ill throughout the night.  I know this works, I’ve done it in the past.  I know that eating healthily, and making the best choices I can will enable me to function on a day to day basis.  I owe it to my husband and our retirement to give this my everything as I am tired of missing out on days and opportunities with him to appease others.

It took a good two weeks for me to recover any sense of equilibrium after going cold turkey.  For some reason that I can’t explain on January 1st, 2020, I decided to have a glass of wine.  Maybe because our New Year’s Eve didn’t happen as husband had proper flu.  Maybe it was just because I wanted to see what might happen if I did have that one glass of wine with lunch out with my friend.  It was tragic!  I lost two days as a consequence of that one glass of wine.

I’ve not been perfect this month and I wasn’t successful in giving up sweet treats.  There has been so much chocolate in the house and a friend of ours made us the most beautiful Christmas Cake that just had to be eaten.  I am writing this last part of the blog on the plane from Faro to Bristol, exactly one month from the day I went cold turkey.  My plan for this month is to tackle the sugary snacks and the desserts when we go out for meals.  Quite often in Albufeira, restaurants offer an all in price for 3 courses and it seems a shame not to have the ‘free’ dessert.  I am ready to stop eating them, ready to try cutting them out and see what the effect is.  I think this is my alcohol, I know I am really going to struggle with this, but I have to try.