When I first started drinking regularly in 2016, I was sitting at around 42-45kg (92-99lbs, BMI 12.1-13.0) Within a year, I’d gained a whopping 20kg.
Since then, I’ve bounced around the mid-60s (roughly BMI 19), with no real consistent, long-lasting change. The past 7 years have been a constant struggle as the calories from alcohol continued to pile up.
In January, I was sitting around 66kg (145lbs, BMI 19.1). Since the reduction of alcohol in late January/early February, it's started creeping back down. As of this morning, I weighed in at 61.6kg (135.5lbs, BMI 17.8)
It’s not a lot, and some days it feels like nothing, but it’s the most consistent progress I’ve had since I started drinking, albeit slow. Each week, my ‘average weight’ has been slowly edging down.
I’d love break back into the 50s for my 30th birthday at the end of the month, but even if I don’t make it in time, I know I’ll get there soon. I can taste it. And it’ll be my first time below 60kg since 2016.
* * *
As for the drinking itself, I’m drinking less than I ever have. I’ve been on a new medication for just over a year now, which I do think has eventually helped. At the start of 2022, I was drinking 20-25 standard drinks a day, with and occasional day or two off per month. That was probably my worst point, in the first year or so after losing mum. By the end of 2022, I was down to 10-15 drinks a day, with usually 2 days off each week.
Something changed around the end of January. I had my first 2-day ‘dry streak’ for the first time in five years (excluding hospital admissions). It was entirely on a whim, just wondering if I could do it, after having a few days where I'd only have a handful of drinks, but stop after a couple of hours and make a cup of peppermint tea instead. Once I managed that, things became a bit easier. Soon I was having 3 days, 4 days, 5 days without drinking. At the end of March, I had my first 6-day dry streak, which turned into a 10-day streak.
Before this, I can’t remember the last time I had more than 2-3 dry days in a week, at best, and never consecutively. Now, I’m only drinking once or twice a week. I do still usually drink quite a bit when I do drink, but overall, the reduction has been dramatic. In March, I only drank six times. That’s something I never thought I’d be able to say.
I always think it’ll be amazing, but in reality, the experience is dismal at best, catastrophic at worst. It just doesn’t make me happy anymore. And the more I reduce it, the easier it gets. Nothing compares to seeing actual progress, numbers dropping, and the feeling of my clothes becoming looser, or my ring sliding down my finger as I wash my hands. Once I started seeing actual progress, it made it so much easier to avoid the alcohol (and the calories it contains), even when things get rough.
Will I become fully sober? Will I be able to moderate, able to have a glass of wine without finishing off the bottle, and opening a second? Only time will tell.
Through it all, there have been challenges.
11 months ago, I finished packing up all of my late mum’s belongings. It went into storage, to wait until I had a bigger place. Two months ago, I was finally able to get everything back. Not only boxes upon boxes, containing a lifetime of memories, but also some furniture.
It’s been a strange feeling. While it’s, in a way, comforting to be surrounded by her things, it’s also been a bizarre mix of sadness. It was a kind of reality check, that she really is gone.
In the first few days, I would find myself with a sense of confusion, like I wasn’t in my own home, but hers. Especially in the lounge room, which now seems like a copy-paste of the family home.
I’ve had trouble dealing with all the complicated feelings. I was worried that having mum’s belongings around might trigger a major backslide in my drinking, but it hasn’t. Instead, I’ve been dealing with it more like a ‘normal person’. Sitting with the depression. I haven’t turned immediately to drinking. I haven’t had a welfare check called since Christmas. No major overdoses.
It’s meant a lot of days curled up on the couch, in the dark, feeling deeply uncomfortable as I wait for the day to end. I spent the first few weeks sleeping on the couch, her couch, the couch from home. I think I’m finally starting to pull out of it, managing to work parts of my usual routine back into my day-to-day life. But some days, the grief just gets to me, and I return to my couch cocoon.
Much love to everyone out there in our little community. This place has been my one constant over so many years, through thick and thin. It might be a bit quieter than it used to be, as life comes along and people change, but I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.
xxBella
* * *
11 months ago, I finished packing up all of my late mum’s belongings. It went into storage, to wait until I had a bigger place. Two months ago, I was finally able to get everything back. Not only boxes upon boxes, containing a lifetime of memories, but also some furniture.
It’s been a strange feeling. While it’s, in a way, comforting to be surrounded by her things, it’s also been a bizarre mix of sadness. It was a kind of reality check, that she really is gone.
In the first few days, I would find myself with a sense of confusion, like I wasn’t in my own home, but hers. Especially in the lounge room, which now seems like a copy-paste of the family home.
I’ve had trouble dealing with all the complicated feelings. I was worried that having mum’s belongings around might trigger a major backslide in my drinking, but it hasn’t. Instead, I’ve been dealing with it more like a ‘normal person’. Sitting with the depression. I haven’t turned immediately to drinking. I haven’t had a welfare check called since Christmas. No major overdoses.
It’s meant a lot of days curled up on the couch, in the dark, feeling deeply uncomfortable as I wait for the day to end. I spent the first few weeks sleeping on the couch, her couch, the couch from home. I think I’m finally starting to pull out of it, managing to work parts of my usual routine back into my day-to-day life. But some days, the grief just gets to me, and I return to my couch cocoon.
* * *
Much love to everyone out there in our little community. This place has been my one constant over so many years, through thick and thin. It might be a bit quieter than it used to be, as life comes along and people change, but I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Roses blooming in the backyard of my new house
