Beating the binge

Week 3: Killing time

There's a phrase I am learning to avoid, I've said it countless times and know what it really means when I hear or say it: 'I just need to get started'. It means 'I haven't got any valid reasons why I won't do what I know I should be doing, yet I won't be doing it'.

In my past I've said I would get started on a lot of things but never really followed up my promises, this nine weeks bid was my chance to change that.

My detox began in full swing. I'd been cutting back on smoking for a while but was now going cold turkey, with
the health benefits I reckoned it would be even more motivational to quit booze and preserve the good work I'd have done quitting nicotine.

The first week brought a prominant headache, not crippling but a constant pressure and the feeling I wasn't quite with it. I also had aggressive mood swings and my monitor came close to getting a swift left hook on several occasions. Of course, I knew violence toward the VDU was not the answer. The problem lay within the computer's hard-drive.

The most challenging thing from quitting smoking was the preception of time. I don't know if others suffer from this but time seems to slow down when you don't smoke. It certainnly makes the temptation to pop out for a ciggie at work as hard as a hobbit resisting an evil ring. Probably the hardest thing to contend with in the first working
week of my detox.

Regardless I made it and the real challenge reared its horned head... the first weekend. There always seems to be an excuse to drink and that was true on this particular Saturday. Friday I'd made it without drink, admittedly it was a bit of a dismal feeling especially living in a busy city center seeing the crowds of people dressed up to go out, groups of lads having a laugh, women wearing clothes to show off their great bodies , without drink there was no way to be ignored by doing fuck all in their vicinity!

Luckily on Saturday I had to go into work, 6 hours sat in the office working away with a sense of personal satisaction I was doing the right thing, every hour more time without alcohol. This was after all only going to be for 9 weeks tops, so I could cope.

My Saturday night reason to drink came from a friend via mobile text , an invite to a birthday at a local sheesha place. A late bar with cheap booze and a beer garden where groups of people toked on flavoured tobacco ( or something smokeable anway) , a serious threat to clearing the first hurdle.

I stood firm and found myself telling my friend about my detox. I didn't want to do it but once the words were said it was official. That was the hardest part because it was the turning point for me. I'd learnt a valuable lesson for my plan to quit booze. You need to involve your mates. Once I'd told one person, it was easier to tell everyone.

When all were onboard it was easier to avoid invites to drink without being considered a miserable/ignorant sod. It was important I didn't lose mates and until I got the news out in the open it was my biggest reservation and anxiety about my decision.

My bronchial tubes widening, blood pressure dropping and suddenly finding sleep quality improving vastly. I was getting an introduction into how my body should be feeling, free of pain.

First week down, the first and only time it could be the first week and it had passed with less drama than expected. I wanted gunfights holding powerful revolvers sideways, sex with beautiful Latina women, well choreographed fights on the top of moving trains and a juggernaught jack knifing on a freeway ,at some point.

Ahhh well, was bound to all happen in week 2 I guessed...