Addiction takes over
Without the structure of an office job, and with fewer physical demands from kids as they got older, I found alcohol consumption as seductive as a high school boyfriend. Then came my eldest’s turbulent adolescence — failing grades, rages, an accidental fire during a party held in our absence. Liquor became my liquid escape; it took the hard corners off constant anxiety, warming me in its embrace. I loved the feel of a chilled champagne flute in my hand, filled to the top. It whispered to me: “I’ll take you away for the next few hours.” And I loved the glug-glug sound coming from the dewy bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, the clink of the glasses, the promise of a buzz.
And let’s face it, in my social circle and family, wine — if not exactly the social glue that bonds us — is a social lubricant. It’s not like my behaviour was unacceptable even if I did occasionally get hammered. This is how adults have fun, right?
That was my attitude until just under a year ago, when I awoke to a hangover while on a summer holiday in the Okanagan — quite appropriately in beautiful wine country. I wasn’t suffering from the piercing headache that’s often part of the package with overindulgence and easily treated with Advil; instead, I woke to the genesis of that profound fatigue that clouds a day and worsens by the hour. Sleep disruption is pretty common for women over 40 anyway, and a couple of glasses of white wine (fill in your beverage of choice) too many can seriously interrupt the shut-eye required to feel rested the next day. This was the part I hated the most.
The hangover to end all hangovers
About a week before my Okanagan hangover, I turned 50. I wanted it to be a banner year, although I hadn’t thought through exactly what this meant. I had been advertising to friends and family that I planned to celebrate all year — the official kick-off was the Calgary Stampede in early July — and to please feel free to take me out for lunch or buy me a gift. In the back of my mind I thought this would include lots of wine consumption enjoyed with impunity, as I honoured five decades on the planet.
But on that summer morning, despite my foggy brain, my thinking shifted. Here I was on holiday with my family and extended family — a revered tradition — in this beautiful place, and I was feeling lousy, just wanting to get through the day. Add to that Terry’s recent comment that I had, of late, developed a habit of having that additional drink, pushing me into the obviously impaired zone.
