Good morning Shipmates - Sid and I have been up bright and early and loving a sober Saturday.
Welcome @CuddlesKovinsky - I am glad you have found us. Sid is a big fan of Eurovision. 🌈. I like the UK entry this year.
@Healthynow - glad you liked the novel synopsis; I shall look forward to the thrilling adventures with the pork chop. Maybe throw in a curveball nut cutlet for the sequel...? Joaquin Phoenix could play the cutlet. Don't let him sing though.
You're not bringing things down by asking about the grief and sense of loss. These are very real. I have gone through the same and I'm sure that a lot of us have felt it too, in varying degrees. It IS a form of bereavement. We mourn the loss of the fun times we had in the early days, before it became a problem. We grieve the loss of the comfort we thought we drew from drinking (actually a lie) and we fear facing the future without it.
I've said similar in previous threads, but I'll say here - I liken it to something like the death of a much-loved maiden aunt. She was vibrant, fun, she made you feel good about yourself, and now she's suddenly gone. You will miss her more than you know how to cope with and despair that life won't be the same without her ever again. She gave you sweets and treats that you knew your parents wouldn't approve of and shared a conspiratorial cheeky wink as you laughed over them together. You had great times together. So, there's the funeral, and the aftermath, and a little while passes... and then it started to occur to you that Fun Auntie wasn't always that much fun. You remember how she sometimes laughed at the misfortunes of others. Sometimes she was rude to people, or made off-colour jokes without thinking that hurt people's feelings. There were times when she abandoned you in a dodgy pub to struggle home by yourself when she'd met someone. Sometimes the sweets she gave you made you feel sick. She made you late for work and in trouble because she kept you out too late on a work night for a laugh. The outings you went on with her were starting to cost you more and more in money and in unwise risks. In fact, all things considered, Fun Auntie was actually quite a nasty piece of work. Frankly, you're glad she's gone, She was becoming a liability, getting you into scrapes and the laughs were getting fewer and further between.
That's a bit of a stretch, I know. But drink is a false friend/relative. It does not and never will care about you to the same level that you crave for it. I used to think that I was witty, intelligent and hilarious at the parties I used to drink at. Perhaps sometimes I was - but I strongly suspect that I was actually really a rather deeply tedious little tit. I couldn't say for sure - I don't fully remember. But some of the memories I do have are mortifying.
One of the things that I found helpful was to treat it like a proper grieving process. It is a loss, not the same as losing a loved one, but a loss all the same. There are various stages of grief - https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/feelings-symptoms-behaviours/feelings-and-symptoms/grief-bereavement-loss/ - when I was getting sober I went through them all, processing them for the lose of drunk me. I don't know if that's something that might help?
It's important that you don't beat yourself up too badly for things done/said whilst drunk and the times lost to it. It's hard enough to steer clear to begin with, without constantly beating yourself up and berating yourself for things that cannot be undone. Move forward and keep your head held high. You're doing your best, and that's very good indeed. Alcohol is an insidious poison - it's got us in its grip before we even realise it. But we're here, breaking free, and doing the best we can. But it's perfectly right, I'd even argue that it's healthy, to feel grief and loss for what we're leaving behind.
Catherine Gray's books "Unexpected Joy of Being Sober" and "Sunshine Warm Sober" also have useful things to say about the sorrow at the loss of the drinking days.
It won't always feel this wretched, I promise. Keep going. The world is a better place because you are alive and sober in it.
Sidney and I are off out now. A little adventure for a sober Saturday!
Strength and courage to you. It's going to be alright. xx