Cravings, triggers and weight loss

It’s 76 days since I had alcohol, so what’s changed?

Well I’m definitely lighter. The scales tell me I’ve lost 11 lbs, which I love them for. I can get back into a beloved pair of jeans that last year I’d put in a pile of random purchases or outgrown items that I mourn and then give to charity. But I’ve resurrected them and they’re now back in the wardrobe where they belong.

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Hello, you beauties

I’ve also had to buy some new clothes to fit my booze-free frame and while some people probably jump for the joy at the thought of shopping, I’m not one of them. I hate it and resolutely do 99% of it online so I don’t have to deal with other shoppers, irritating sales assistants and changing rooms. Our dear retired neighbours have set up a collection office in their living room for all my deliveries and I pop round after work to pick up my parcels and have a chat by their roaring fire. So great, I needed to shift a few pounds and if it was all Sauvignon Blanc-related heft then I’m glad to be shot of it.

My eating habits have changed for the better as well. I always knew that wine was chock full of calories so I’d justify drinking it by reducing the amount of food I consumed. Boom! Forego nutrients for a hangover, nice one Kit. It’s amazing what dependence on something can make you rationalise. I consider myself to be a relatively intelligent individual so why would I choose wine over food? It seems crazy now but after a couple of glasses, my appetite would vanish and in my head it made sense to finish the bottle instead of having a meal.

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Better than a burger

We get free breakfast and lunch at work (utterly spoiled, I know) and I would always go for toast and butter in the mornings and, more often than not, the stodgy, comforting option at lunchtime, bypassing the healthy choices to dive straight into the cheese-laden lasagne or legendary curly fries. But since January, I’ve had porridge every morning and made friends with the salad bar because my body isn’t craving carbs in the way it was. And I don’t feel like I’m depriving myself or dieting, I’m just reacting to what my body wants and without alcohol, it wants salad. Who knew?! It also seems to want more chocolate and cake, but you can’t have everything…

So, I’m physically lighter without alcohol, but I’m psychologically lighter as well. I realise how much time I spent thinking about alcohol. Is there enough wine in the fridge? Will I miss my train if I pop into the shop to pick up some wine? Drinking had become habitual. Get home from work, pour a glass of wine. Did I even really want a glass? Not always, but it was what I did and I felt like I deserved it as a reward for a day at work. Really? You need to reward yourself for getting up, going to work and coming home again? Well done Kit, you’re an incredible human being! You did all that by yourself, have a gallon of the finest Sauvignon!

I also justified wine if there was something to celebrate, which meant I turned everyday activities into occasions: It’s Saturday, best have some wine! I’m having a bath, ooh, wine! I’m cooking, come here Mr Sauvignon!

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Who knew?

I could find a reason to drink wine when I did pretty much anything. So what do I do now? Is it all Elderflower cordial and cups of tea? Yes and no. My trusty Torres de-alcoholised Muscat and the perfectly palatable Bitburger 0% lager are playing a role when I want to feel as though I’m still partaking in a ‘proper’ drink, but I’m also drinking more tea and loads of water. I’m not mad keen on squashes and cordials – I’d rather get my sugar from cake – but I’ve found a couple that I quite like. And I tend to put whatever I drink into a wine glass or a proper lager glass (apart from tea because that would be silly) so I still have the sensation of drinking booze.

And I do get cravings. Just yesterday David and I went to visit Claudia in Nottingham because she needed a hug and, quite frankly, we needed one too. We went for lunch at a French bistro we like and I was overwhelmed with the desire for a glass of wine. It’s not because Claudia drives me to drink – it was the jazz, the wonderfully atmospheric trumpet jazz they were playing. It was the lighting, the dark skies and snow falling outside, the delicious hum of fellow diners chatting away, the chalkboard that so beautifully described the Picpoul Sauvignon. It was heady – we could have been in Paris or New York – and the only thing missing for me was a glass of wine.

Don’t panic, reader! I had a Becks Blue. I didn’t succumb and I won’t succumb, but sometimes the desire is very real and it’s interesting to understand what my triggers are. French bistros and jazz apparently…

Another positive of giving up alcohol is the effect it’s had on the people around me. David often now opts for a non-alcoholic beer over a regular one and several people have told me they’re trying to cut down after seeing the change in me, which is brilliant. My mission when doing this challenge was never to become preachy or holier than thou about alcohol. It was only ever to honour Joe’s memory and to raise awareness and support for the prevention of young suicide, but if it also makes people stop and think about their relationship with alcohol, that’s a bonus.

And if you’re really serious about taking a break from the booze, then now is the perfect time. The brilliant writer, Catherine Gray, whose book The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober is an honest, painful and hilarious read about her relationship with alcohol, is setting up Sober Spring. From March 20th to June 21st you basically don’t drink alcohol. Simples. 93 days without booze. An entire season. I’m doing it (obvs) and I reckon you could do it too.

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Follow Catherine on Twitter @cathgraywrites and on Instagram @unexpectedjoyof and @cathgraywrites

So you now have two days to drink every drop of alcohol in your house – you’d best get going.

#SoberSpring

#I’mOnlyKiddingYouDon’tHaveTo

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Don’t order the wine!

41 days with no alcohol. Hurrah!

I think I may have finally broken the habit that characterised my relationship with white wine. My stepdaughter, Claudia, was home from uni last weekend and we drove to Reading to meet up with my stepson, Connor, and have a family lunch. Sunday lunches for me would always – without fail – include as many large glasses of Sauvignon as I could justify, but I now realise I was on auto-pilot. I drank wine, it’s what I did. Everyone would expect Kit to go straight to the wine menu, find the New Zealand Sauvignon, complain if there wasn’t one, and then proceed to drink the best part of a bottle.

But now I’m THINKING. So effing simple but something I just hadn’t beunnameden doing where alcohol was concerned. I ordered wine, I bought wine, I drank wine. And now I don’t. I order sparkling water, alcohol free lager or tea. Yup, instead of my usual glass of wine for dessert, I now have tea (pictured, vying for attention with Claudia’s picture-hogging G&T). And I drive home so my partner can rest his eyes and not spend the weekend driving his tipsy girlfriend around when he drives so much during the week.

Do I find it hard? Sure I do. I miss the taste of a good white wine and that lovely fuzzy feeling you get after a glass or two. But I don’t miss the bad sleep, the alcohol-fuelled anxiety and the lethargy. The only time I felt like reaching for a bottle during lunch was when the children (24 and 21, but still children to me) started pestering David and I to get married…

Grief is different without alcohol as well. Oddly, I’m feeling more emotional despite being calmer and less anxious. The calmness is probably down to the fact that my anti-depressants are working more effectively without having to battle for bloodstream space with a very pushy Sauv Blanc, but I had thought giving up the booze might help me control my emotions. Apparently not. I suppose it was a big ask and that my grief wasn’t going to disappear along with my hangovers, but not being able to numb the emptiness, the loss, the regret and the despair with a few drinks is definitely one of the things I miss. Reality, sober, is a bitch.

On the flipside, I’m able to be more present for David, Connor and Claudia who all need sober Kit to help them navigate their grief. A lot of people tell us we’re coping really well but I think we’ve just learned how to keep the mask up for longer at work or when we’re going about our days. What people don’t see is the sadness that envelops us so often. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still able to laugh and joke, but we just need to be together – a lot – talking, hugging, crying and remembering.

Anyhoo, 41 days with no booze and I’m more than a little chuffed with myself.

I’m pretty sure Joe would be too.