I am an incredibly open person - I know I bet you'd never have guessed! I don't really keep much hidden. I am comfortable talking to anyone about really personal and delicate subjects.
So it strikes me as very weird the relationship I have with alcohol. I don't really drink anymore but I avoid telling people this. To join in with conversations I will even create the impression that I like a glass of wine or 6. I make convoluted excuses about having the car or needing to be up early for smudge the next morning. Even some of my nearest and dearest don't know that nowadays I am practically tee total.
I used to love a few wines with the girls, a g&t before Sunday dinner, a few vodkas before making an eejit of myself on the dance floor or if the sun was shining well that's Kopparberg elderflower and lime time. Then the depression hit and one of the quirks was that even one glass of alcohol made me violently ill. I was struggling with near crippling social anxiety and it would have been easy to use alcohol as a crutch. Did my body protect me by employing projectile vomiting as an anti-drinking measure?
I can't really explain why I'm not drinking anymore. It doesn't make me ill to have a few drinks. I just don't want to. I just wish I knew why it was so difficult for me to be honest. I'd rather have a coffee.