Sober Poet Unleashed

Not even a gush of wind And the trees half-emptied, 23 days is plenty, Hard bits done, so I thought, A bottle of wine today, so very nearly bought. Turns out it's a novelty no more Uninhibited emotions, like a burst mains pipe, This wasn't the plan, The Terrible Beast, no longer simmering, certainly not gone Mightily irritated, mutters under breath, this is so very wrong. It was all going well. What is this hell? Sober nights in and out, they've been fun! Family came to stay with wine and I had none, Proud, happy with my choice, This steady weekend's wobble is trying to crush that voice.

AKA...anxiety! I have read a few wonderful posts today on anxiety and its relationship with booze, and it has really got me thinking.  I often drank in an attempt to ease my anxiety. Sometimes it worked completely. Sometimes it only worked a little bit.  Once the drink wore off, my anxiety would be at an all time high the following day. You know how it goes from here.  A real vicious circle. People who know me may find it surprising that despite the outside 'bubbliness', during any social event where alcohol was available, I'd be secretly feeling panicky on the inside until a sufficient amount of alcohol was consumed and thereby drowned out the voice of The Terrible Beast.  Interestingly, if it was an event where alcohol was not on the cards, I'd usually feel much calmer. I found one of my old poems that I wrote a few years ago, following a BBQ with a few friends: Gone The sun’s enveloping hug Caresses my being As I sit here wondering Overthink...