‘Can I do anything to help?” I ask the hostess at a recent social event. “Oh, could you pour out the wine, please?” she responded, indicating a tray of glasses and three bottles of opened red wine on the kitchen table. “No, I’d prefer not to, if you don’t mind.” “No, sorry, of course not.” I hadn’t told this woman my situation regarding alcohol, yet she responded as if she knew, which was fortunate. No need for explanations.The social event was a film club, and the film chosen was Babette’s Feast. My suffering was to continue. Apart from an endive salad, every course served contained alcohol – this was a French feast after all. Despite references to Veuve Clicquot 1860 and Clos de Vougeot 1845, I found myself laughing thanks to a wonderful script and humorous dialogue. And despite its austere background and inclement weather, there was a great deal of joy in the film, including an aria from Mozart’s Don Giovanni.La ci darem la mano was sung by one of the sisters and her suitor. Maybe I should have just said, “Yes, of course”, when asked to pour the wine? I wonder if I could do that another time?But I was afraid to.I didn’t trust myself.There are those struggling with alcohol abuse who wouldn’t mind pouring copious glasses of wine with no threat to their sobriety. For me, it felt triggering and I didn’t want to do it. Triggers are individual to us. Some can’t allow themselves to be around alcohol to the extent that alcohol would not be available in their house. Others, like me, do have alcohol in their homes. I wonder if I will ever get to a place , if asked to pour wine, I could do it without the angst?I used to be such a drama queen – I told myself it was the continental side of me. It wasn’t; it was just me being a drama queen. Being in denial is a horrible place to be. A lot of my life would have been spent there. It’s not a nice place to be. Albeit late in the day, I found the key to escape. The new venue is better for me, but others are not happy about my relocation.When I went into rehab, I thought it was to help me control alcohol – I can never control alcohol. Ha, I even thought that if I stopped drinking for a year, I could relearn to drink like a normal person. This had brought its own problems. People don’t like it when you set up boundaries. Once able to roam free in an open field, they now find themselves surrounded by fences. Yes, change is hard for everyone. But for me, worth the pain I went through to get to the other side. When I heard the sentence, ‘Relapse is a part of recovery’, I didn’t like it. I wish I’d never heard itI never envisaged life would be so hard. When I was a little girl, my dreams were like those of most little girls – fall in love, marry and live happily ever after. But if I didn’t even like myself, how could I like anyone ? I took the circuitous route to happiness, ignoring all the short cuts along the way, thinking they were not meant for me.Happiness is not something sitting on a shelf in a supermarket waiting to be bought, nor is something you buy online and have delivered to your home. It’s not even something wrapped up prettily in a box with a velvet ribbon. It is buried deep inside ourselves, waiting to be discovered.How could I be happy when I didn’t know who I was?I would tend to take on the persona of the person I was with at a particular time. If the person liked classical music, so did I. If the person liked rock music, so did I. I didn’t know it was all right to like both. I tried to impress everyone I met. If the person didn’t see through me and still thought I was worth spending time with, I would sabotage the relationship, believing I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t even aware I was doing it. It’s no wonder I was angry all the time.My teenage years, full of angst and turmoil searching for my identity, lasted beyond their natural life. One of the many drawbacks of staying a teenager long after its expiry date is the lack of maturity to make decisions. I couldn’t trust myself, so I had to follow others like a sheep. This was what caused me to wait before I admitted myself to rehab. I was told I should just stop. I had no discipline. Just have two, maybe three glasses, and stop. What’s so difficult about that? Everything. I couldn’t do it. I knew I couldn’t stop drinking on my own, but it was only when I told my doctor how much I was drinking and she suggested that I go to an addiction psychiatrist that the decision was taken out of my hands. I’ve discovered it’s very hard to win respect when it’s lost. It’s made me question why. Is it discomfort on the part of the other person? I have self-respect and self-esteem, and I have no intention of giving them up because someone else doesn’t share my opinion. I worked too hard for it.Some of you might remember I was in a ballet show last year and I wrote about the camaraderie among a very diverse bunch of people. The warmth and connection we felt towards each other was special and due in no small part to our wonderful teacher. Just as the chief executive of a large company has a power which goes beyond the boardroom and whose ethics and values filter down to the post room, Arianna holds the show together with grace, harmony and a dedication not usually found in an amateur production. She believes in us even as some (me) question our ability to be there.Regular rehearsals meant that we saw more of each other than our own families. We were a tight-knit bunch of people, despite a demographic as wide as the Amazon river and as diverse as the universe. When I walked into rehearsal, the camaraderie and positive energy was peeling off the walls. You may not have performed on stage, Arianna, but you were the star performer. Douze points.When I heard the sentence, “Relapse is a part of recovery”, I didn’t like it. I wish I’d never heard it. It sounded like an excuse to drink again. I hadn’t planned on doing rehab again. I searched for articles about recovering addicts who had relapsed to try to get some insight into why it happened, and, more importantly, ways to avoid it recurring. It was interesting to read one of the points raised was overconfidence. I am glad to say that any confidence I have felt in staying sober is fleeting and quickly banished to the Bank of Lies where it belongs.I know for the rest of my life I have to be aware of what alcohol can do to me. And it is this knowledge that is keeping me sober. Does this bother me? No, not really. Most of the time it is fairly manageable, but there are still moments when not being able to have a drink is a struggle and I have to stop the thought of: ‘Why can’t I have a drink’? from developing into an exercise of self-pity and self-indulgence.This happened yesterday. I had to change something, and I had to go into the off-licence of the supermarket to get a refund. Waiting in the queue, my eyes settled on bargain sales of Chateau de this, that and the other. I thought how lovely it would be to try one of them and what good value they were. Was I serious? I tried distracting myself with the pastel-coloured cans of soft drinks only to discover they all contained alcohol. They looked like they belonged in the Art and Hobby shop next door.There will always be occasions when I will struggle with the temptation to drink , but I don’t want to be defined by that. Once, alcohol was a huge part of my life – it was my life – everything I did revolved around it.Was there wine in the house? Or had I finished the bottle last night? Is there an off-licence open? Can I get there before it closes? Maybe there’s a bottle behind the curtain in the diningroom? Or in the pantry behind the olive oil? Or behind the sofa?It’s embarrassing to recall the hold alcohol had on my life – but no harm to revisit it from time to time. There’s no way I want to return to that life. I can’t believe I did nothing for so long, even when I knew I had a problem. It was this fear of being seen as a drama queen, and I was.The very first time I mentioned to some friends that I was an alcoholic, I was met by blank stares and disbelief, no words of support. Just silence.This was during another failed attempt to stop drinking on my own. I didn’t know where to look.It didn’t help that the following month I was drinking again.No one said a word.Alcoholics Anonymous alcoholicsanonymous.ie, 01-8420700, gso@alcoholicsanonymous.ieHSE Drugs and Alcohol Helpline hse.ie/eng/services/list/5/addiction, 1800-459459, helpline@hse.ieI Am Not an Alcoholic SeriesPart 1: I am not an alcoholicPart 2: I told myself I’d stop at threePart 3: Someone drank hand sanitiserPart 4: I’ve stopped drinking nine bottlesPart 5: A man told me I wasn’t honestPart 6: Will you regret taking this drink?Part 7: My eye is stuck on the winePart 8: Could the floor swallow me?Part 9: Should I try AA again?Part 10: Combating life’s little horrorsPart 11: Go on, you deserve itPart 12: Why I write anonymouslyPart 13: I lost my sparklePart 14: Abstinence has brought powerPart 15: I could not hate myself morePart 16: Hiding my dependencyPart 17: Alone in ParisPart 18: Return to rehabPart 19: Fears, anxiety ... and humourPart 20: Becoming a non-drinker changes youPart 21: Friends are distancing themselvesPart 22: Some people get uncomfortablePart 23: I was caught unawarePart 24: A lot of things changed for mePart 25: Why can’t I connect?Part 26: What harm could a glass of wine do?Part 27: Prosecco was free, water was €7Part 28: I need to change my attitudePart 29: More fun when she was drinkingPart 30: Raising mental health at a dinner party