My Dry Veganuary: Week 2

Today would have been a drinking day.

Truth be told, the last few days would have been drinking days.

“It is as if alcohol had never been invented”, I trilled buoyantly this time last week. Well, the me from this week is pointing and laughing rather nastily at the annoying chirpy me from way back then.

After a mixed Christmas (more guilt than usual over consumerism; a family bereavement; worry about the health of a dear friend after a major operation), the new year had started - for me - with a surprising burst of optimism and productivity. I took a friend’s brilliant advice and did an audit of the last decade, putting together a paragraph for each year and detailing both disasters and any small triumphs. I knew it would not be easy as the last ten years have been responsible for some of my lowest and worst moments, but the reflective process allowed me to forgive myself, which in turn unlocked an incredible release of creative energy and determination. I’d recommend it to anyone.

As well as starting my new blog I liaised with an illustrator about collaborating on some children’s books, I signed up for various running events, began saying Yes to more things generally and committed to doing at least one thing each day that would make me feel proud (cue Stevie and her Heather Small mask). Dry January? Yes! Why not? I had folded on day 12 of Stoptober, but that was the old me. I would breeze this. Veganuary? Hell, bring it on.

It was the brightest, the bounciest and the most confident I had felt in years.

Then again, that golden week was not representative of my everyday life. I was still off work, though the children were returning to school meaning I had several days to myself. Time: that precious commodity. I had time to write; to run; to mull over all my exciting new ideas for blog posts; to plan, shop and cook as a vegan and to do it properly. Plus the sun came out, which always helps a bit.

Of course, it couldn’t last. I went back to work feeling disproportionately grumpy and resentful. People got on my nerves and I’m sure I returned the favour. Busyness started taking over, relegating the things I actually wanted to do to the bottom of my priority list. I still managed to squeeze them in, but at a price. (Case in point: I am writing this on a work night and it is currently 12.06 am.) The weather went back to pissing it down. I did a disappointing park run and started doubting my vegan diet. Then I had a few days of feeling rough, and doubted it some more.

Alongside the mildly unsettling stuff, I have had some genuinely difficult and unpleasant things to deal with in the last week, which have cranked up my anxiety levels and sent jolts of adrenaline shuddering through me at random intervals (just to keep me on my toes). At times I have felt overwhelmed by how much has needed to be achieved in one day. In addition, I have felt even more aware than usual of the suffering in the world, and how little I can do to relieve any of it.

The last week, then, has been a bit of a bummer. But there have been positives:

Veganism

• Having claimed he felt “violated” when I served him a meal containing tofu last week, my husband went back for second and third helpings of the Sri Lankan curry I cooked a couple of nights ago.

• He also - inexplicably - bought me a nice glass blender, which Big Daughter immediately seized upon and began experimenting with fruit smoothies using oat milk, intending to glug them down on the way to school. For a pathological breakfast avoider this can only be a good thing.

• Little Daughter made a vegan chocolate and banana mousse for pudding one evening, which eventually set and was vaguely palatable.

• My son has noshed everything served to him with polite thanks, and last night Big Daughter and her friend cooked dinner, which was not only delicious but most welcome.

• Perhaps best of all, my stomach seems to have settled down.

Booze

The difficult emotions and uncomfortable sensations I have experienced this week have helped me realise why I so often reach for a glass or two at the end of a tough day:

• For temporary relief from feelings of anxiety

• As respite from pressure when it feels relentless

• For a dose of fake courage when I am fearful

In short, to numb out or to decompress.

Last night, I could have done with some decompressing. I wanted to run but couldn’t because the wind and rain resembled a tropical storm. I couldn’t drink. So I wrote. I fell asleep somewhere around 2 am and I’m back for another day experiencing life without filters. Unmedicated.

Have a listen to this: it’s superb.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjyTCSirZrY