Club Soda member, and regular guest blogger Kim updates us on living life sober, and what she’s been doing to live it to the max.
Sober family holidays
I haven’t posted for a month or so because I’ve been all over the gaff. Firstly I came back from my fab holiday with kids, then left a few days later to go on holiday with my Mum and Stepdad. This was on the back of me trying to be a better daughter and blurting out one day “Oooh I know you love hiking, I would love to do this with you” as my brain is shouting “Shut up, shut the f*k up, stop moving your mouth”. This is because they argue heaps (my mum has been known to wee in his bath when he annoys her). But too late, off we went. And this is the thing, we had a wicked time! And I climbed my first mountain. I know you peeps from up Norf probs have to climb 10 mountains to get a pint of milk, but for me this was huge. The furthest I have ever walked is from Streatham to Covent Garden when I fell over outside a nightclub pissed and a homeless man gave me a McDonalds napkin to mop up the blood and I gave him my mobile phone, oyster card and purse to say thanks. Anyway, I stood on top of my mountain feeling so fit and healthy and free. My stepdad kept pointing to mountains him and my step-siblings have climbed and I thought “sod me, that’s loads, how did I miss out on all these adventures with them, where was I?”. I was turning down the invites so I could stay in London and get mashed up. What a dope.
After the holiday
Returning to London I get a message from an ex. Like, THE ex. Who left the country when we split years ago to get away from me and is returning for the first time and wants to meet. So off I trot, shitting myself. I message some sober chicks with an SOS. The message is take off your shoes, put your bare feet on the ground and relax. So I do this in a church yard in Soho… I thought my days of being barefoot in London were over, but it kind of works. At the restaurant he walks in and as soon as I see him I want to jump over the table, mount him and jump those beautiful bones. Instead I kept calm, apologised for my appalling previous behaviour. He said he wanted to reconcile his feelings for me so he could move on. An hour later we go our separate ways and I receive a text from him saying he’s not reconciled anything and will leave the country the next day.
At that point I know I could probs make him stay, make false promises, mess around with him like before. Instead, I wish him well knowing I will never see him again. Proper grown-up style. I got home and my heart felt smashed up to buggery. The house was full and I sent everyone out. I picked up my phone and my fingers hovered over his number, and I promptly deleted it and messaged my lovely sober chicks. And they gave me love and advice. I ate frozen blueberries, drank tea, and sat with my feelings. And it’s all okay now. It’s just teeny hurt pangs that prod me now and again, and not the disgusting smashing pain. Like cravings, things like this pass. Like quitting booze I know that this is for the best as much as it sucks from sucksville right now.
Learning to bounce back
Today I woke up to find my bedroom full of thick, black smoke. Myself and ex-OH chucked on our clothes, grabbed our dearest possessions (me my phone and my godson, him the spiteful waste of a cat) and hared it out of the flat. We got downstairs to find the shop directly under us on fire, and lots of office workers shouting that it was getting worse. Nobody in our building was out. My godson and I ran back into the building and went to every floor knocking on doors and getting people out until the smoke got too much. We are all safe. When I went back into my flat, I could have cried, there is thick black soot everywhere, the walls are f*cked, it stinks, its just disgusting. Lots of stuff is ruined. So I have spent the day up to my ears in suds and soot, rave music blasting, to try to make sure we have a room that we can use. But here’s some of the things I have learnt today:
- When you’ve been in smoke and you blow your nose, your snot is black
- My ex-OH loves the spiteful waste of a cat more than me
- I love my phone more than my spiteful waste of a cat
- I love my friend who turned up and who “doesn’t do cleaning” but made me laugh so much telling me about her date that ran out on her last night, that my eyes were streaming from tears of laughter not smoke anymore.
Balancing out – living life sober
So up my mountain, then crashing down, and now I’m middling. I love middling. Nothing crazy, just my lovely sober life to crack on with. In the middle of this I met 3 incredible sassy sober chicks to celebrate a 1 year and 2 year soberversary. I look at these amazing women who I am so lucky to have in my life and who are truly inspirational. I thank God for this site for bringing them to me. I’ve been to a Moulin Rouge sing-a-long. I have a trip to Edinburgh to see a gorgeous sober chick soon, and Strasbourg to meet more lovely ladies. I also have a freebie trip to Jason Vale’s juice thingymebob retreat to look forward to. I have stability. I have peace of mind. And right this moment I have a banging disco bath to jump into. On my 10 month anniversary I was sat home with a cracking cold, annoyed I couldn’t do my monthly sober treat. Then my daughter turned up with a bouquet of flowers and my granddaughter gave me 10 bars of dark chocolate to celebrate. That meant the world to me.
Real life. Authentic life. Sober life. It’s beyond my dreams.