Making a Sober Choice

Two months ago today, I made a solemn promise to God to quit drinking. I came to recognise that while most other people I knew could easily moderate their drinking, having a glass or two as and when they wanted, I could not. So I decided to bang it on the head while I still could. And having hit the two month mark, it seems like the honest thing to do to share my journey with others. It's not that I'm trying to convert anyone else to a life of sobriety, just explaining why it is right for me.

image: www.designofsignage.com

It took me a long time to recognise that I had a problem with red wine, because I rarely had a proper hangover, and tended to get tipsy rather than drunk, so did not experience the nastier side effects. So I carefully ignored the warning signs - the fact that if I couldn't get my beloved red wine, I'd drink a bit of whatever was around; that I would 'have' to finish the bottle; that I was often drinking at home, even if my other half wasn't; and that every morning I would wake up feeling dried out and under par. But it wasn't affecting my life or my work or my family, so I pushed it to the back of my mind. After all, most of my friends drank wine, and they certainly didn't have a problem, so obviously I didn't.

I first scared myself in March 2012, when, having read an article about alcohol problems in the paper, I sat down and worked out that I was drinking between 2.5 and 5 times the recommended limit per week, and rarely having a day off the booze. But I decided that I could moderate, and drink only at weekends, and see how it went. I was still in denial.

It worked for a while, then I drifted back to my accustomed habit of between half a bottle and a bottle of wine most days. In January 2013, I again tried to moderate - this time I was only going to drink "outside the house." But that didn't work either. I still hadn't realised that moderation only works for people who don't have any kind of emotional dependency.

Then in July 2013, push came to shove. I got pissed in front of people whose good opinion I respected, and the fact that they had been amused by my slurring speech somehow made it worse. After a long talk with my spiritual director, I spent some hours sitting with the shame of it, and faced up to exactly how I felt about continuing to drink - frightened, uneasy and ashamed of my lack of control. During the first week in August, I worked through the process, and made the decision to quit at the beginning of September.

At this point, God got involved, and I decided to make a commitment to Him and to some ministerial friends at our annual conference on 2nd September. Which I did. It was a powerful ceremony. A Bah'ai friend, who gave up drinking over 30 years ago, and who I had gone to for advice, said: "If you've made a promise to God, you can't break it, can you?" The Quaker Advice about "A simple lifestyle, freely chosen, is a source of strength' is also proving very helpful.

And that's all. I have made the choice to stay sober, and intend to stick to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Dormouse in Search of a Teapot

I am currently at Unitarian Summer School at the Nightingale Centre, our conference centre in Great Hucklow, in the Derbyshire Peak District. I am spending a week in the company of forty or so fellow Unitarians - both old friends and new - and having a marvellous time. The workshop I am attending is both stimulating and spiritually nourishing, and the optional activities in the afternoons and evenings likewise.

Even the weather (never predictable in this part of the world) is cooperating, and has been warm and sunny. Who could ask for more?

Then, last night, after a substantial and delicious dinner, during which I had a really interesting conversation with some dear friends, the balance shifted.

I don't know whether I've been trying to cram too much into this summer (OK, I'm lying, I know fine well that I have) but it is as though somebody has flicked a switch inside me, and suddenly I become like the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland, tiredly in search of a teapot. I crave solitude and sleep and time to creep away and re-group.

The Dormouse (from the Disney film Alice in Wonderland)

The temptation at these large Unitarian events, such as Summer School and our General Assembly annual meetings, is to participate in everything, because it is all so fascinating, and stimulating and nourishing, and I don't want to miss out on anything, and I love spending time with my fellow Unitarians.

And yet I know that for my body's sake (and my soul's), I need to balance this craving with a bit of downtime - some periods alone, to think, to meditate, to pray, perhaps just to take a deep breath and relax. We are complex organisms, and need to pay attention when our bodies crave rest. The alternative is over-stimulation and eventual burnout.

So, like the dormouse, I said good-night, and went in search of my teapot.

Relishing Small Victories

I'm not usually superstitious, but last Friday (the 13th) I got two pieces of bad news - not heart-shaking or life-changing, but two bits of news I didn't want to hear. And it got me down. In fact it made me feel quite sorry for myself, and hence self-centred. Thanks to the timely wisdom and compassion of a friend, I managed to get myself back into a healthier head-space, and not take my disappointment out on anyone else.

But it made me wonder about how vulnerable we all are to the rollercoaster that is life (to coin a cliche). We often lack the spiritual resilience to roll with the punches and to bounce back from small disappointments. I think we need to learn to be on the lookout for small things that go right, rather than beating ourselves up about every tiny little thing that goes wrong. At least I do. One of my favourite sources of spiritual wisdom is the poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. In this context, I'm particularly thinking of the lines

"Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans" and

"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself"

Luckily for me, I was able to enjoy an achievement this morning - I ran a hilly 3 miles in 31:30, which for me was immensely satisfying. Running has this ability to take me out of my everyday preoccupations and make me concentrate more purely on relishing small victories - on a bad running day, just getting round the course is enough, on a good day, when I run a good time (for me) it's great. But either way, every run represents a small victory that I can take pleasure in. I know that I am so blessed to have this resource. For other people, it may be sorting socks into pairs, or cooking a perfect omelette, or the first time your child manages to do up their own shoes - doesn't matter what it is, so long as we are aware that we have achieved something, and take time out to celebrate that.

Moderation and Mindfulness

"Try to live simply. A simple lifestyle, freely chosen is a source of strength."

In recent days, I have been reflecting on these short sentences from the Quaker Advices and Queries. In the nearly three months that have passed since I became an ex-smoker (you are never a non-smoker; it is like being an alcoholic - one will always be too many) I have been fairly indulgent about what I have eaten and drunk telling myself that I "deserve" this cake or that glass of wine, "as a reward". As a result of this, I have put on a few pounds, and have now reached the stage where all my clothes are feeling somewhat snugger than I would like. And as I cannot afford a new wardrobe, I have decided to say "Stop" and go on (yet another) diet.

Looking back over the twenty years since my son was born, I have been on many diets, always to lose the same 7-14 pounds. At the moment, to my secret horror, I weigh the same as I did when I was six months' pregnant (although I don't look it). I would just like to get back under 9 stone, which would be a healthy weight for my height. But because I "only" need to lose 10 or 12 pounds, and because most of my clothes still fit (more or less) I have been quietly sabotaging myself. I have realised that I am usually fine during the day, when I am busy, but that it is when sit down in the evening that I "reward" myself for being good all day by eating and drinking all the wrong things - wine, chocolate, crisps. So I need to make better choices.

So I am going to try to consciously and mindfully adopt a more "simple lifestyle, freely chosen" and make healthy eating and drinking choices for six days out of every seven. Then, on the seventh, I am going to enjoy some red wine and chocolate or even a curry to prove that I can eat "what I like" without going hog-wild, and without sabotaging myself.

It may sound odd to relate this resolution to religion or spirituality, but I do feel as though I have been gently nudged in the right direction by Someone. Perhaps that is what being mindful means - attending to the sacred in everyday life, however mundane it may seem.

Doing it for me

I've always been a competitive person. My parents brought me up to have high standards, and to aim high, to try to be the best, and to work hard to achieve that. I'm not saying that is bad, but one result of this is that it has taken me many years to learn the lesson that people aren't judging you all the time by what you achieve.

The revelation has come from two sources:
1. I recently attended an Enneagram workshop run by Oxford Unitarian Josephine Seccombe, and she lent me a book about the different personality types. I am definitely a 3 "Achiever", who is motivated by success and by the praise of others. One key phrase in the personal development section brought me up standing: "Realise that love comes from being, not from doing and having."

"Realise that love comes from being, not from doing and having."

That is such an important message for all of us, but particularly for driven types like me. What? People like me for who I am, not just for what I do? A real Eureka moment.
And then I start to think that this has broader ramifications - I must also return the compliment to others, and love them for who they are, not for what they achieve. Doasyouwouldbedoneby, love as you would be loved.

2. Six weeks ago, I gave up smoking and started running again. Running for me is not about exercise, it's not about winning races, it's not about being the fastest or the best, it is for the pure love of being able to put one foot in front of the other and run a certain distance, knowing that the only person you are competing against is yourself. And often, I'm not even competing against myself, I just go out because it's a nice day, and I need to feel the sunlight on my skin and the wind in my hair, and experience the effort of running for itself. After a good run, I feel like God on the seventh day - just uplifted and good and the sense of achievement doesn't need to be validated by anyone else. It touches parts of my soul that nothing else does.

So I will continue to do my best, and to value success, and bask in the praise of others, but will try to remember that I am worthy for myself, and so is everyone else. "There is that of God in everyone"

Thank God for Gok!

In these enlightened times, it is no longer acceptable to be racist, or sexist, or to discriminate against another person on account of their age or disability. This is not to say that prejudice about these things has died out, but it is not acceptable.

But there is one last bastion of prejudice which is alive and well - it seems to be quite acceptable to be sizist, or fattist, in other words, to judge someone by how much (or little) they weigh. It is commonly recognised that first impressions are important, and that, rightly or wrongly, most people do judge others by appearances. And it is endemic in our celebrity-obsessed society.

I've watched three programmes this week, all of which give different angles on this issue. The first was America's Next Top Model, a reality show in which a group of girls in their late teens or early twenties learn the skills of modelling (and there is a lot more to it than meets the eye) and are eliminated one by one, until the winner is awarded the title of America's Next Top Model. The current series is Cycle 15. The show has spawned many franchised imitations, the world over. Most of the girls are very slim, if not downright thin, and there have been incidents of girls passing out because they are not looking after themselves properly (i.e. eating and drinking enough to keep body and soul together).

To be fair to Tyra Banks, the originator and chief judge of the series, she is very concerned to teach the girls about the need to look after themselves. Indeed, at the beginning of the current series, one girl was sent home for being too thin, as the judges (quite rightly) thought that this didn't send the right message about healthy eating to the show's legion fans, many of whom are young girls themselves.

At the other end of the scale was Biggest Loser USA, another reality show in which a number of morbidly-obese contestants are taken out of their everyday lives, and taught to eat healthily and subjected to a ferocious exercise regime under the supervision of two excellent, but very demanding coaches. The amount some of these people weigh at the beginning of the series is phenomenal (one guy weighed over 500 pounds or 35 stones) and their rate of weight loss is similarly phenomenal - the same man has currently lost 129 pounds in nine weeks! But it's all done under medical supervision, and the contestants' lives are transformed by the process.

These are just two of the many reality shows on TV which are centred around physical appearance, the desirability of fitting in to some "ideal". Others include shows like 10 Years Younger, in which a woman (it is usually a woman) has her appearance transformed by a combination of cosmetic surgery, dentistry, makeover (hair and make-up) and dress. At the beginning of the show, 100 passers-by are asked her age, and the average is taken, and then again at the end, after the transformation.

We seem to be obsessed by physical appearance. It is not just TV shows, it is also endemic in magazines, worst of which are the "celebrity" ones such as OK, Closer and Hello, which seem to exist to show us endless pictures of A-Z list celebrities either at their air-brushed best (or more interestingly still to many readers) at their worst. The appetite for such things appears to be bottomless.

As a Unitarian, I firmly believe that there is "that of God in everyone", a divine spark that makes each person unique and worthy of respect as a human being, regardless of age, sex or personal appearance.

Which is why I thank God for crusaders such as Trinny and Susannah, hosts of What Not To Wear, and Gok Wan, host of How To Look Good Naked (the third programme I watched this week), who have quite a different message about physical appearance. While granting that physical appearance (looking your best) is important, the whole rationale behind What Not To Wear was to enable women (and men) to learn about their body shapes, and about what colours and clothes styles suit them best, to enable them to "make the best" of what they've got, and to be happy with themselves. Gok Wan has gone even further down this road, preaching a message that all women are beautiful, no matter what their shape, size or complexion.

It is a vitally important message, particularly for younger girls. It has taken me many years to be content with my weight - I started to obsess about it in my teens, and it was only through watching Trinny & Susannah, and reading their books, that I have learned how to dress appropriately for my body shape, to make the best of my assets, and to be content.

So Thank God for Trinny & Susannah, and for Gok, and for all people who can help insecure women who believe all the media hype about physical perfection, to be happy with the bodies they've got and concentrate on more important things.