Day 50 - Pads, PAWS and Claws.

If I'm counting properly, I think that this is Day 50. I'm quite surprised, and also very proud of myself. I didn't think I would make it this far. A huge THANK YOU to all my blog-friends who have been there to help me through and encourage me!

I sound like someone giving an Oscars speech, like the prize has been won. It's interesting to me that there is no 'end' to this movie - or is there? Is there a celebration to be had at the end of every single day that I remain sober?

I'm feeling absolutely lousy at the moment - almost like I have a hangover which seems remarkably unfair considering. My back aches, my mind is fuzzy, my stomach is hollow and queasy, my mind is fuzzy. I just want to crawl back into bed. Not sure if this is PAWS or 'The Wall' (or are they the same thing?). It does become easy at this point to blame anything that goes wrong with the body or mind on sobriety, I suppose because there's comfort in thinking you know what is going on.

I know the correct answer to this is to be kind to myself - and I really am trying - but it's just so busy at the moment I can't slack off for a few days yet. I'm probably taking Friday off for a day out, and I'm definitely sleeping all day on Saturday, but I have to keep going until then.

We were out in London on Saturday night, and getting a cab back to the station after the theatre (which I can afford, now I'm not drinking!) was interesting - so many people late at night, stood on the street drinking. So many of them who probably felt rough as a badger's arse on Sunday morning. I looked at them and wondered where the pleasure was in what they were doing, tried to remember, and I honestly couldn't.

The flip side of that observation, though, was that when we went for a meal in Carluccios, a place I always associate with a large glass of white wine, I felt almost hypnotised by the glasses on the table until they were removed after we didn't order anything to go in them. Was that because of the habit of drinking wine in that place? Am I just a snobby alcoholic who considers herself too good to stand around on the street drinking from a plastic pint pot?

In the old days, I'd have had a glass of wine or two on the train, another with the meal, maybe two, two more at the theatre, and something when we got back to the B&B. Because it was spread out over 12 hours, I would consider that it wasn't that much. Interesting how none of those are just one drink.....!

My hands no longer shake.

I'm still great at procrastinating though. Back to work!!