It was never much fun for me. I wasn't one of those drinkers who drank normally for a number of years and then 'crossed a line'. The line was crossed the very first day I tasted alcohol. I loved it, craved it, always wanted another drink. My drink of choice was 'more'.

Christmases past.


Christmas 1985. I went to stay with my sister and her (then) husband. She'd made a load of wine from one of those kits, and we got stuck into it at breakfast. She and Dave only had a glass or two, but once I started I couldn't stop.

This picture was taken at 10.30, 11am. Yes, that's right, well before lunch. I'm doing that 'one eye shut so I can focus' thing, and thinking nobody would know I was off my face.


Christmas 1987. I got into a fight in the Spotted Dog in Barking because I stole someone's drink. I'd drunk mine, the bar had closed and I hadn't had enough. People were going home, but I wanted the party to go on and on and on ... Police were called. I was lucky, friends told the police they'd take me home. The police had enough to do without dealing with another idiot drunk. A police record for drunkenness would not have done my career a whole lot of good.


1990 onwards. My then husband worked for a supermarket chain, and at Christmas instead of the usual staff discount of 10%, we'd get 20% off everything. We used to fill two huge trolleys with booze to last us over the holidays. On Christmas Eve we'd draw the curtains and start drinking. We didn't go out, didn't have friends or family over, didn't visit anyone, we just sat indoors and drank and drank and drank. Same thing every year. Merry fucking Christmas.


Christmas 1994. My father-in-law was dying in hospital. Visiting on Christmas Day was between 2 and 4pm. I knew if I'd started with the champagne early in the morning, I'd be wasted by lunchtime, so I white-knuckled it and stuck to coffee. We went over to visit him and the second I got through the door that bottle, chilled to perfection in the fridge, was opened. I was seething with anger that this dying old man had 'ruined my Christmas'.


Christmas 1997. One of the stores in the UK, BhS, used to sell (maybe they still do) a gift pack of 'lagers of the world' - a plastic case containing 8 different bottled lagers. That year, NINE people (none of whom knew each other) bought me this gift pack. My first thought was 'great! I've got another 72 bottles of lager to drink' but behind the excitement I was a little uneasy. No CDs, no bath oils, no books, no scarves - the only thing people had thought of when choosing a gift for me was booze.

I sorted the lagers so that one case still held the 8 assorted ones, but the others each contained 8 of the same lager. Then I drank all the beers from the one assorted case, and ranked them in order. One of them I recall was vile - a cloudy wheat beer that looked and tasted like a kidney patient's piss. So I drank those first.


Christmas is now very different for me. I've had a few sober ones. The first couple, when I was still married, were difficult because my husband wanted to do the curtains drawn, drinking Christmases that were so much fun back in the day, and I wanted to have a nice dinner, see friends (I now had friends, not just drinking pals), go for a walk in the forest. So I'd often head out on my own and leave him to it.

The last few Christmases have been as good as I can make them. Two years ago it was very tough - six weeks after George died. But I accepted every invitation I was given, I cried when I needed to, I had a couple of friends over for dinner.


Last year I was in Ohio, for The Most Perfect Christmas Ever - like something from a movie, staying on a Christmas tree farm, we did cookie baking, tree trimming, carol singing, big family parties, small lunch parties with friends. It was awesome.


This year has started great with the concert last night. Today I'm going to a Christmas market in Greenwich, and I've been invited over to a friend's for lunch on Christmas Day.


This is a time of year when the 'amateur' drunks come out to play - people who tie one on because it's Christmas. I used to drink a lot of champagne at this time of year, and it was a drink I really loved. But I never had just one glass. I never sipped it delicately from a crystal flute. I downed it as fast as I could to get as drunk as I could as quickly as I could. I was not a pretty drunk. I was the person you would dread being in your party, because inevitably someone would have to get me home at the end of the night. Or else I'd be off with a stranger, waking up next to God knows who in some far-flung corner of London.

The bottom line is - I cannot drink safely. Which means I cannot drink.


In the last few weeks a number of people I know who've been sober for a good amount of time have gone back drinking again. Some of them have made it back to AA. Others are trying to get sober again, but can't. Their misery and terror is frightening to witness.

I have to remember what it was like.

I have to remember.

Merry Christmas.

I think it's good that you can be so objective about it.

Oh, Jan, you made me cry! (and then I read lassie's post, and cried again!)

I'm so proud of you, and happy for you. Merry Christmas to you, too, love.

what an awesome post!!!

Merry Christmas.

Wow, what a powerful tribute to yourself. You've given the most wonderful present to yourself and to those with whom you're sharing the story.
Peace to you.

Right on Jan. It's a heavy story to read, but seeing as how I know how it ends, at least the you and the booze part, it's not too hard to take. I'm really glad you got hold of your demons. It's never easy, and with booze, and it's ubiquitous nature, it must be even harder. All the best for the holidays!

Wow... amazing story, ej! To those of us who have only known you since you got sober, that all sounds like it had to be some other person. (I bet it sometimes feels that way to you, too!)

*hug*

Yes, BP, I don't recognise the person I was then. My life is so different today.

Yeah, I can't imagine the Jan I know and love being the person you describe. Good for you, friend.

Thanks for sharing this, Jan.

Thank you for sharing, jan. One thing that struck me when I look at that old picture of you, is that you looked so old and unhealthy back then. I'm so glad we've got healthy, happy, beautiful essexjan here.

Oh Jan... when I read just the subject line on the main page my heart jumped into my throat!! Glad I opened this to see I had the wrong idea!!!

It is so amazing how far you've come, reading that sounds nothing like the Jan we all know (as everyone else has said). It is just amazing the power that addiction has, to completely change someone.
So much of what you've said about your drinking, and your ex husbands, reminds me of so many things. My ex husband, friends I've lost over the years, my own problems with drugs. So often it is easy to think we're alone in this world, but problems are the same no matter where you are.

I'm so happy you're sober now, and able to be the person we all know and love.

Yeah I was really worried at the subject line, too. Good for you on your strength and logic prevailing. Sounds like you're in a good place. I'm glad.

Holidays are hard enough WITHOUT all that. Around here they have 24hr meetings on holidays, which is so awesome- just to have some support even if you aren't on the verge of going out.

OK, a 24 hour meeting sounds dreadful. It's more that they have continuous multiple meetings round the clock.

Yes, they have those 24-hour meetings here, too, in a couple of locations at both Christmas and New Year.

Good for you, ej... can't always be easy.

My birth mother was mandated into AA by a judge, once upon a time, which you wouldn't think would have much promise, but she ended up doing pretty well. She'd still have the occasional tall boy, but gone were the fifths of vodka in an evening. Course, she was still on heavy duty tranquilizers. I sometimes wonder who she really was or could have been under all that. (She was very smart and had a great sense of humor; she died in '97 at age 59. She always said she'd never make it out of her fifties.) One of my earliest memories is of her throwing up what I thought was blood over the side of the bed; in hindsight, it was probably wine. This silly season is a bit topsy turvy emotionally for me.

It's great you're doing some fun things for yourself. I'm thinking maybe a visit to the Rembrandt exhibit at the Met, and I'd love to see the tree at Rockefeller Center and the shop windows along fifth avenue. Maybe a movie. I'd like to see I Am Legend. Nothing like a good apocolyptic vision to end the year with.

Excellent post, Jan. I so appreciate hearing stories of positive change in people's lives. I'm sure it was a difficult road (Lord, especially living in a house with someone whose habits were not changing!), but you seem today to be such a vibrant, cheerful, open, and eager-to-live person that I just cannot ever imagine you drowning in drink. Maybe it's a little sad that you can't indulge calmly in things you used to like, but I hope the sacrifice is worth it when you weigh it against these beautiful holiday experiences you now have with friends and family, arts and music. Congratulations and Merry Christmas!

Yay Jan! Thank you for sharing your story.

Important post, my friend.

You may know if you have seen my profile over on mefi that my grandmother (the one whose name I commandeered for a username) was an alcoholic. She too died in her fifties...54, I think. I can only wonder what life would have been like for her if she had chosen to live it sober. I'm pretty sure the booze was an attempt at selfmedicating a whole crapload of pain.

It is just amazing the power that addiction has, to completely change someone.

Even more amazing is the power demonstrated by those people who resolve to change their lives, and proceed to do it. Congratulations and thanks, Jan. You've brought us all such pleasure simply by being the person you've become. Merry Christmas!

Even more amazing is the power demonstrated by those people who resolve to change their lives, and proceed to do it.

So so true!

Congrats on being sober, Jan. I'm very glad for you.

Thank you Jan.

I scrolled down the front page, so your post and thought "!!!!!!!!!!!" and did not expect this post to follow.

I don't know how to express myself in way other than College Dude Fist Bump and a heartfelt "Word." You've gone and made me inarticulate.

I'm glad for your recovery health.

I'm still catching up on Metachat, but was so happy to read this post, and to realize it didn't mean what it seemed to mean from the outside. It's a tough thing, is alcohol. Having watched my dad battle it all his life, up to the day he died, I have a huge amount of respect for you, essexjan. I wish you every sober joy of this season.

Like Lassie I've been gone the last few days, but I'm glad I had a chance to read this.

You really are an awesome person, (((essexjan))).