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We think we grow. We think we grow and change. And in some ways we do and in others, not.

For example, I will never really have my paperwork under control. Yes, it’s a lot better than it used to be – mostly thanks to my husband who believes rightly that a freelancer’s career stands or falls based on whether he or she is able to send a fucking invoice. 

Okay, quite a lot of my invoices come back with a note saying “Please check the amount and re-send” because I have added it all up wrong, but I sent the invoice at least. Eh? Eh?Anyone?

And my drinking will always follow a pattern of drinking far, far too much and then putting a stop to it. I will never, as I thought I might once do, learn how to drink in moderation, permanently, for ever. It will always – probably – build gently up to a terrible crescendo and then have to be stripped back.

Not because I have done something awful, but more because one day realise 3/4 of a bottle of wine doesn’t really touch the sides, I am necking whisky like it’s just been invented and in the morning I really kinda can’t remember what happened last night.

Like I said, it’s rarely because it means I do something bad. Well, not irreversibly bad. But it can’t possibly lead anywhere good and it makes me paunchy and forgetful.

I don’t want to have to not drink. I understand why a person might have to not, but isn’t it better just to try to cultivate an okay relationship with booze?

When I went back to see a shrink in around January I was drinking an absurd amount. I laughed about it back then. I told my therapist and sniggered as the colour drained from her face. “You drink all that… in one evening?” she said tentatively.

I laughed about it because everything was getting done. All the boxes ticked. The children fed and in clean pyjamas, never late to school, never miss a deadline, never drunk during the day, never drunk behind the wheel.

But, but, but, but it’s not how much you drink or what you drink, it’s why. And I don’t know the answer to the why. That’s where the shrink comes in, I suppose. And maybe there doesn’t have to be a why. Maybe I can afford delicious wine and drinking is pretty addictive, even if you are a zen master, and that’s just the way it is?

Anyway I’m not drinking so much now. A glass a night, rather than 7. And I’m enjoying it! It won’t last – of course.

Why am I telling you all this? Oh yes! Milk Thistle. It really does work. It’s a supplement that improves liver function and it 100% makes you feel less shit in the morning. A few weeks ago when I was off my face for about 6 evenings in a row I took one twice a day – once before drinking and once before bed, and felt really very okay in the morning.

Drink responsibly, obviously. But if that’s not an option, make sure you’ve had your Milk Thistle.

It’s a change! Of sorts…