The demon drink

So, ok, there is at least one thing about turning 40 that really bothers me. It's the realisation that I've run out of time to be blase about consuming alcohol. Now, admittedly, I'm not what you would call a problem drinker. I may (regularly) flout the 100ml 'standard' drink measurement when I pour my wine but I'm not knocking off a bottle at every meal. The thing is, drinking alcohol more-or-less responsibly makes me feel lots of things I quite enjoy. I feel happy and relaxed and like I've slogged through 39 and a bit years of life experience to get to this moment when I can REALLY appreciate a slightly more than standard alcoholic beverage, thanks very much. I have earned it, damnit!
Are you getting a hint of a defensiveness? That's coming from the part of me (suitably deeply buried) that knows alcohol is the devil's business and it's doing me no good at all, even in more-or-less responsible amounts.
At times I've definitely abused alcohol, I've binged and vomited out of not quite stationary vehicles with the best of them, and it's cringe-worthy. I very much believed I was having a spanking good time while I was in the middle of those crazy nights out but I was also in a period of my life when I was deeply unhappy, felt out of control and wanted desperately to escape into an alcohol-induced state of feeling dead sexy and more amusing that your average person. [For the benefit of my future teenaged daughter reading this, I was also in my early 30s and while that doesn't make it ok, it does mean you have to wait at least that long before you try it.]
The real issue is that not only have I already damaged my brain to some degree, but if I continue to drink alcohol the way I've been in the habit of doing in my late thirties into my forties and beyond there is worse in store. For women over forty and heading for the inevitable menopause alcohol is a risk factor for osteoporosis, breast cancer, depression and weight gain. According to Dr Christiane Northrup it can also make your hot flushes hotter. Excellent.
The other thing Dr Northrup says is that although it is a sedative, alcohol can also ruin your sleep, because:

it disrupts the brainstem sleep mechanism, resulting in rebound insomnia - meaning that you are more apt to awaken in the middle of the night because your body will need more sedative to get back to sleep.*

If there's one thing I need more than ever at this point in my life it is sleep. The pace of daily life is just exhausting and between work, family, home and socialising I'm run ragged - I need sleep like I need oxygen - going without is no longer an option.

I feel my age and I sense menopause waiting for me around a few more twists and turns of my life's path, when I consider that I need to change my relationship with alcohol. The reality is that I will need to drink much less in order to maintain my physical and mental health into my 50s and 60s and beyond, and I know that will be a struggle for me.

* Quoted from The Wisdom of Menopause by Dr Christiane Northrup. Check her out here.

Everything sounds better in French

Even "about forty". In French to be about forty is avoir la quarantaine (pronounced kah - rrrron - ten). It sounds attractive and accomplished and elegantly non-specific. We fail to come up with anything so languid in English - 'forty-ish' and 'late-thirties' is about all we can manage and neither of those expressions can be worked cleverly into the name of a blog about turning forty, so la quarantaine it is.

Technically, I should have started this acccount of my fortieth year of life back in August 2011. I am some months behind. Blogging about the last gasp of my 30s wasn't as high a priority as buying a house. And moving into it. And surviving one of the tougher years of my working life. But it's 2012 now and already this year is shaping up very nicely (notwithstanding a possible Mayan calendar/end of the world-type scenario wherein neither I, nor anyone I know and love, makes it into those giant ark things).

So far, being an ever-shrinking number of days away from turning forty is surprisingly pain-free. Infact, I think it's kind of liberating. While I don't want to get all falsely jolly and upbeat about all this and write posts where I trill happily about feeling empowered and loving myself as I am and being thrilled to be forty etc. and like that, I do want to talk about what's going on in my life as this 'milestone' birthday approaches with honesty and good humour. The truth is I'm not terrified of being forty/in my forties/over forty. I am a little anxious about it. Not completely sanguine. Maybe even a little sad. I'm also glad to be here, I'm anticipating the next decade and I've got plenty of reasons to believe my forties will be my best decade yet.

The above are a couple of reasons. Being able to stand on the back step of my own* beautiful little house in the suburbs and take in a stunning sunset is pretty freakin' awesome. And something your average twenty-year old can only dream of. Ha! That's one for the old bird.


A la prochaine (which is a pretty way of saying 'till next time')

F x




*When I say 'my own' what I mean is mine and my darling partner's. And the bank's. The key thing here is that it's not the landlord's.