400 Steps - Update Two - Control

I have very poor impulse control. Actually, that's overstating it. I have some control, but not as much as I'd like.

I don't know why. Something to do with growing up poor probably. Apparently you don't learn how to envisage potential potholes ahead properly. That's a lot of P words there sorry. Anyway, this control thing is at the heart of a lot of mistakes that I've made in all areas of my life. And it's absolutely at the heart of all the reasons I want to stop drinking for a while so I can recalibrate the old noodle, fucking work out what's at the dark heart of me. I keep saying heart, fuck knows why, I hate that station.

Anyway, Christmas is something I find stressful. Nothing bad has ever happened to me at that time of year but I don't like the pressure of it, the forced closeness of people. I like people all year round but for a few days each year I've got to somehow pretend that this is how I like it, got to join in with everybody else's sudden gregariousness. Then there's the money. I don't earn a great deal of money but even I feel pressured to spend what I don't have to feel like I've demonstrated a suitable amount of love on people who know how much I love them already. So many Christmas shopping trips have ended up with me, hammered, gift-free in a pub. I don't like crowds, I don't like panicking, I'll spot a fireside glow and a row of beer pumps and the consumerist hell is delayed.

I like to walk at Christmas, spend a bit of me time lost in a stroll somewhere. No music on the headphones, just a bit of quiet. I didn't get the time for that this year or rather I failed to make the time. I just spent time watching telly and getting fat instead and that didn't help me. I even failed at abstaining all of December but it was okay because I rationalised the choices ahead of me when a stranger offered me a glass of wine at a party on New Year's Eve.

I can a) say Yes. b) say No. b) means I might end up in a discussion with people who know addicts and want to tell you their story which is fine because my exercise in abstinence is just a tiny part of a wider conversation that people need to have with themselves and their loved ones and their colleagues about their own substance issues. All conversations have a context.

I'm torn. I've turned down several drinks over the last month because I wanted to. That is the crux of my problem. I've not listened often enough to what I needed. I've just wasted so much of my life getting drunk when I didn't really need to, when what I really could have done with is some quiet, sober time of self-reflection instead. And it's better to do that in the glow of not having drunk than in the existential aftermath of a hangover - the deep fug of post-poison gloom where you, already dealing with toxins wreaking havoc with your internal organs, now have to wrestle with the psychic defences having been breached.

So, my decision came down to all these other questions in my head. Did I feel like I could drink without getting drunk? Are people going to judge you whatever decision you make? Are you going to judge you? All of this stuff is bouncing around in the tired, end-of-year brain. And so I said Yes. And I had two small glasses in the space of four hours. And I went home. And the drink was nice. And I felt a little bit like I'd let myself down when I woke up. But I told myself this was the choice I'd made, and that I'd been restrained, and that I'd had a nice evening, and that no one had texted to ask if I was ok or chastise me for something I'd said or done the night before. And I can live with that.

I've reset the Days Since I've Drunk clock to zero again. And I will see how long I can go this time. Because I want to do this, I'm actually in control of it. And that's why you won't see me preaching about it because I have no idea how hard it is to give something up when you are addicted to it, properly snagged in it's nets. There won't be a 15 Tips to a Happier, Healthier You book. I'm no Puritan. This is purely about me saying I've got a lot of work to do on being happier and fitter and healthier in 400 odd days time. And if you read this and like it, fair play to you, thanks for the support. And if you don't read it, or don't like it, then that's good too.

To be honest, I'm more ashamed of having played fucking Charades.

Days of self-improvement left: 385