Day 5 of my alcohol free life

Well, day 5 of my alcohol-free week anyway...

I had a pampering weekend last week, when we finally got away from the thunderstorms in London. I was buffed, scrubbed, massaged, moulded, pummelled, rubbed and steamed into a new me. I felt great. Relaxed, serene, worries away.

After 48 hours of this, my skin began to glow, my eyes were brighter and my mind clearer and more relaxed. It had been a hellish few days leading up to our weekend away, culminating in my receiving a £60 fine for driving in a buslane I thought was peak hours only, but was actually 24 hours... Grrr. Yes, my fault entirely, but my GOD £60 for 10 seconds of driving. That's got to be the most expensive thing I've ever done, per second...

But anyway, what with work pulling me this way and that, the council fining me, the weather delaying our retreat away, too many late nights and too much to do in the meantime, off I popped for a couple of days of R&R. Now, I have to be honest, we did - of course! - bring some tipple with us and enjoyed a glass or three of wine after our healthy evening meals, tucked up in the comfort of our beds, while watching fun dvds... And yes, there were some crisps there too...

Oh ok, I confess all - and a yummy 'flat' Aero (love them; the choccy, not the car)....

But by Sunday morning I was feeling quite "serene". Not like myself at all, and quite enjoying it! My last treatment recommended I have 24 hours alcohol, caffeine and processed-sugar free so I duly obliged. And the wonderful Connie also recommended some detox 'patches' to help the process along.

I rarely ever fall for this kind of marketing ploy, but for just this once I did give it a go. And my goodness, five days later and L thinks someone has stolen his real wife and replaced her with someone who drinks no alcohol, goes to bed early, and gets up before the alarm... the shock in itself nearly killed him! The patches, for those who are novices to it all, go on the soles of your feet at night, one on each. Eight hours later, you pull them off; they look and smell disgusting, it has to be said. For the first two days, my kidneys ached (bad, bad GG, too much booze recently!), I had headaches, and I felt lousy and tired.

Day 3 and BING! I awoke at 7am (v. v. rare in this house, unless I'm catching a plane or something). To L's amazement, I had a normal, friendly conversation with him in bed (instead of grumbling and turning over). I even offered to shower first so he could lie in. And off I popped to work with a spring in my step and a sparkle in my eyes!

Day 4 we both had a lie in and made the most of being awake and sparkly in the morning! Yaay!

Day 5 and I'm still going strong. The aches and pains are all but gone. I have the odd headache, which I think is purely through lack of sugar and caffeine (I don't drink tea or coffee, but I do miss my diet cokes and the odd bit of chocolate!), and I have eaten basic, wholesome foods all week. Snacking has been fruit and fizzy water has replaced the vino. Yes, it's boring as hell but my skin is great, my tummy is shrinking and I've regained that spring in my step.

I am realising now how much I'd let myself slide; how I'd gotten myself into a habit of late nights and headachey, grumpy mornings, how work was stressing me because I want my performance to be as perfect as possible, and how much I was juggling too many things at once. That isn't going to change overnight, and certainly not over a mere five days but if I can repeat the detox process every so often, give myself time to heal, time to feel better and time to look after me and L for a change, then I will reap the benefits. This feels like the me of old; it reminds me of the first summer I spent with L, weekends at his house in the country, bouncing out of bed in the morning with a spring in our step, embracing life together. And six years later, facing the continuous, saddening process that is infertility, we lost that somewhat. We lost the joy we had. We found solace in work, and music and wine bottles. We need to concentrate on finding solace within ourselves. Yes, we were happy - we ARE happy - as a couple. But as an individual, I wasn't as happy as I could be, or should.

And so this little time out, this recharging of batteries... and liver, and kidneys... not to mention brain, lungs, colons etc, etc, has left me feeling better in myself. I have managed not to count the days to my next impending period (I could do if I concentrate hard enough, but I choose not to) and I will give myself another day or two of detox before enjoying the weekend. And having a glass of wine. Or maybe even two.

And definitely a Diet Coke!

Sad - 2

SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder - is something more commonly experienced in the darker, winter months. But I can't help feel I might be suffering from it right now, in mid-July because the weather is just SOOOOO rubbish!

It's 12noon and I'm sitting in the living room with all the lights on; there's a torrential rainstorm outside, complete with thunder and lighting; and according to weather reports it's all set to continue for at least another 48 hours.

So where has the summer gone? Or is it coming late this year? Or not at all? Yes, I know we had a wonderful two or three weeks in April, but come on, this is definitely the wettest, most miserable summer in my memory. I can only find respite in counting the days until we fly to Australia this winter, at least then - hopefully! - we will have some sunshine to look forward to! [and yes, I'm fully aware that flying to Australia can contribute to global warming effects, but we do offset, and when big businesses start to acknowledge their part and take action to reduce their emissions, then maybe I'll reconsider my own]

It reminds me of Ireland - my childhood summers spent sitting at the window staring out at the rain. Sheets of rain, day after day. Then it'd stop, mam would run out with the washing and hang it on the line and before she'd finished putting the last piece up, it would start up again. Steaming, damp washing would pile up in the kitchen, amidst the cooking and the chatter.

Inevitably... annually... we would go to Wexford where we'd have the pleasure of sitting at a caravan window doing the same said thing - staring at the rain! At least it was so much noisier there, and the thunder and lightning felt so much closer and lower in the sky. I didn't mind the rain so much then; I wasn't really the sporting type as a child - in fact, not sporty at all! - so at least I wouldn't get hooshed out to play if it was raining, and I could enjoy my Enid Blyton's and my Agatha Christie's indoors, amidst the mayhem of seven people in a tiny tin can.

And then when I lived in Germany we would have the most wonderful storms, loud, practiced, powerful and impressive. I loved German weather; proper lush white snow in the winter, and freezing cold, followed by lovely long hot summer days in the summer, interspersed with the odd thunder storm. It felt like proper, "Hollywood" type weather, the seasons all in the right order, doing the right thing...

But back to the current and it continues, this steady downpour. It's relentless, but not quite so impressive as the older storms I knew. I really can't believe it's mid-July and it's been weeks since we've had a day without rain.... I need some sunshine, it's making me sad.

Sad

I know it's silly, and it's daft, but I just feel so, so sad today.

I feel we will never have a baby.

Another failed cycle, another missed opportunity, another month older.

Another pathetic, non-existant period, and nobody takes us seriously.

Feeling lousy, feeling rubbish, feeling desperately sad....