My friend celebrated his 42nd birthday at the weekend. It was a civilised affair by all accounts; rugs spread out in a sunny East London park, young children running around and an oversized speaker playing music at a sociable volume. Lovely.
I hadn’t been drinking much in the week preceding – a condition of my new abstinence group that had been suggested by my alcohol key worker. The course was aimed at alcoholics who were deemed to be “on top of their drinking” and practising the techniques necessary for maintaining abstinence. A condition of attendance was that participants not drink for 5 days before the weekly course on Friday mornings. Although I hadn’t started the eight week course, I was feeling confident about my drinking levels and thought it would be good to try and adhere to this rule in preparation.
I spent my week exercising; swimming outdoors, cycling and running. All of which made me feel great and reduced my urge to drink. On two nights I had a single beer at home, something which felt like an achievement.
Saturday came and my friends birthday began in the park. I had agreed with my girlfriend that I would cycle to the park mid afternoon, stay for 3 hours then leave early evening. On my way I stopped to pick up beers. I filled my bag with a couple of beers, then thought I better get a couple of the host, then thought I’d better get a few more for me, just in case. I scooped up the now heavy bag onto my back.
I got to the park mid afternoon as planned and was nervous seeing people. I knew some people there but it’d been a while since I’d socialised and I was out of practice. I opened a can and drank it in 5 minutes. I opened another and 5 minutes later that was gone too. Within a couple of hours all the beers I’d brought were gone, along with the one’s I’d brought for the host. I was out of alcohol but on a roll now.
I was offered beers and a glass of champagne. I hoovered everything available quicker than anyone else.
As it started to get dark, the parent’s decided on parenting duties and one half of each couple took the children home. The rest went to a pub garden by a nearby canal.
I forgot all about my promise to my girlfriend and moved onto the pub with my friends. I talked football and bought more and more pints, drinking each quicker than those who surrounded me.
By midnight, I would guess I’d drunk 10+ pints of lager plus whatever else I’d been offered, champagne, glasses of wine etc. Two friends saw me staggering incoherently and asked how I was getting home.
“Riding my bike!” I responded
“No you’re not!” they insisted “have you even got lights…or a helmet?”
“I have lights” I said proudly
The friends pleaded with me not to get on my bike until I made excuses saying I needed the bathroom. Instead of going to the bathroom I walked through the pub to the front entrance and got on my bike.
I can’t remember anything of the 30 minute ride until I got to my street. At that point, and for no reason other than balance affected by alcohol, I somersaulted off the front of my bike, landing face first on the road.
I walked into my flat at 1am, grazes on my face and bruised across my body. I woke my girlfriend who patched me up whilst I muttered that I was embarrassed and that I wanted to have children with her.
She assured me that there was no chance of children until I’d straightened myself up.
I woke the next day, bruised and aching.
I’d be lying if I said that this was the first time I’d woke up damaged from alcohol. In the past I’ve woke up with a broken foot, a twisted ankle. I once woke up covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe, my wallet and phone missing, presumably stolen.
I’ve blacked out more times than I can remember and it’s a scary thought to know you have been so vunerable.
I have been working on becoming sober for many years now and I’m closer than I’ve been but I still do totally stupid things like fall off my bike and I need to change.
I believe I can get 100% sober, but I’m not their yet. Not quite.
Stinking Sober 