Tag: alcohol

Going Under

Last Wednesday, I drove to Orange for my friend Seana Smith’s book launch.  Writing is a solitary occupation, but once the work is complete, it’s time to emerge and celebrate. Going Under was published only a few weeks ago. There is nothing more joyful than a beaming author holding up a copy of their book in print.

I met Seana through the Central West Writers, a group of people who met monthly in various locations. We were both members for several years, even if we didn’t attend regularly. When we came together, we listened to writers read sections of their work, offer a suggestion or two and cheer them on. When we saw their work come to fruition as a published article or book, it gave everyone encouragement to keep going. Writers’ groups can be a beacon of hope when we are stuck in the messy middle.

Seana’s book, Going Under, is a memoir which fearlessly chronicles her lifelong struggle with drinking. Like so many people I know, she has dealt with intergenerational alcoholism and trauma. These scars run deep, but we can effect healing when we face our demons.

Growing up in Scotland, drinking was part of the landscape. Moving around the world and finally settling in Australia didn’t change that. Nor did being successful in a variety of high-profile jobs. As an extrovert, Seana likes company, and having a glass in hand livens up a party. But drinking was much more than that for her. After much soul searching, Seana’s struggle with alcohol has finally come to an end. ‘My life will be better if I never drink again,’ came to her like a mantra that she could not ignore. And for over four years now, Seana has become a champion for sobriety.  

Going Under is published by Ventura Press. If your bookstore doesn’t have a copy, you can always place an order like I did. Or you can listen to the book in her wonderful braid Scots on Audible.

A bubbly legacy

For 20 years, I didn’t drink a drop. Then, out for dinner with a man who would grace my life for four short years, I succumbed to a glass of red. It was delicious. Tart, intense and astringent, I enjoyed every mouthful.

I have never been a heavy drinker. Admittedly, I went through episodes of binge drinking in my early twenties, but that was mainly to overcome social anxiety. Once inebriated, I took advantage of my impaired control and began to enjoy parties, rather than be the wallflower hanging out in the kitchen counting tiles. But that was a long time ago.

When I began to drink again, I would only do so at dinner and never at every dinner. Then Roger introduced me to the glass of champers on a Friday evening to celebrate the passing of another week. His philosophy was simple – celebrate if you have had a good week and celebrate if you made it through a tough one. Either way, you are a winner.

When he ‘shuffled off this mortal coil’, as he liked to quote, I was left with an unusually large glass vase filled to the brim with champagne corks. It was years’ worth of good and not so good weeks he had lived through, with and without me. I neither wanted to keep them, nor throw them away. In the end, I reached a compromise, took a photo of the full vase and kept perhaps 30 of the corks. They remind me of a life well-lived.

Now I carry on the tradition, at least most weeks. I can’t drink a bottle of bubbly on my own, but I can enjoy a piccolo, which is 200mL or almost two standard glasses. It is a perfect amount. I raise my glass and salute Roger, and the passing of another week. Cheers!