Sobriety at Christmas is a challenge. But it's better than the alternative

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/dec/23/sober-alcohol-christmas-new-year

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I remember clearly – indeed it's one of the few things I do remember – this counsellor turning to me and asking if I'd drunk enough. I must have been in my mid-20s at the time and I couldn't quite grasp what he meant. At best, I found his tone flippant, antagonistic even – it would be another 15 years before I fully understood what a pertinent question he'd raised.

And so it's Christmas again, and do you know something? This will be my third Christmas sober. And when I say sober, I mean sober, not a dry drunk, my tongue hanging out and desperate. In other words, I did eventually drink enough – and I was sitting here quietly the other night when a wave of joy washed over me: I don't crave alcohol! Not that this was an epiphany, but at this time of year? – what a powerful reminder of just how lucky I am.

I feel no sense of superiority, only a profound relief that I no longer suffer as I once did – and yet, there are countless others out there who aren't so lucky. Such is the prevalence of alcoholism, it's a safe bet that a member of your family – not necessarily you or your partner, it may be a maiden aunt in Somerset, but someone close will have seen December approach with a sense of dread. Perhaps they'll have vowed to both themselves and the family that they won't touch a drop over Christmas.

They may, they may not. I close my eyes and it takes my breath away, just how miserable Christmas used to be. Oh, miserable doesn't come close. The season torments, overwhelms – office parties spill out on to the street and the supermarkets are awash with the stuff; gallons and gallons – crates in every aisle.

I spent one or two Christmases dry back then, having promised I wouldn't drink, but I was rarely successful. New Year just took the piss. Abstaining while the world gets drunk is torturous, and you want to throttle anyone with a drink in their hand. How dare they!

This is a plea for some magnanimity, made by someone who's seen both sides. I'm not advocating you mollycoddle those who are trying to abstain, only that you show some understanding. Should the camera pan and a character takes a long pull from a pint in the Queen Vic, smacks their lips, and a loved one sitting next to you lets out a cavernous sigh, or worse, feels the need to go out into the garden and howl – for there'll be melodrama and sulking along with the torment – I still bet you they're trying their damnedest not to have a drink in the face of almost insurmountable odds.

Count to 10 and give them a hug, even if they are being a sullen bastard.

As for any drinkers out there reading this – in no way is this piece carte blanche for self-pity, nor should you expect special treatment. And certainly, there'll be limited sympathy from me should you fall off the wagon and behave monstrously, but I do know what you're going through. I understand completely.

While the world does the hokey cokey, you're stuck at home with a Horlicks and Last of the Summer Wine, pulling your hair out that it just had to mention wine in the title.

And as for you others, raising merry hell – and deservedly so? Well, I'd love to sway with you in the taxi queue come 2am, but I'm afraid it wouldn't end there, not for me, and I know this now. For me it would be a hospital detox a few months later, Valium, and no real idea of whether we'd yet made it into 2014.

And funnily enough, that's not something I altogether miss.

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