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By Leah Martindale, Film and TV Editor

The Croft Magazine // Going sober may seem like a huge challenge, especially as a student! Leah Martindale reveals her reasons for going 'Sober for October'.

Vomiting, shaking, migraines, crying, indescribable bowel distress, only able to stomach salted pasta smothered in butter: no, this is not an account of food poisoning, or gastroenteritis. This is a hangover in the life of me, and this nightmare is on pause for a month.

Leah Martindale will be going 'Sober for October' | Epigram / Leah Martindale

That’s right! I am going ‘Sober for October’, and all in aid of the amazing charity Cancer Research. With matriarchs on both sides of my family falling victim to cancer’s cruel and indiscriminate clutches, I have more reason than just the standard student alcoholism to stay on the straight-and-narrow (-and-sober).

I’ve been partial to a drink for longer than I’d like to admit. A nice glass of wine on a Wednesday night, a few tequila shots on a Saturday, a glass of whiskey too many with my now-ex-boyfriend’s family (relationship status unrelated to embarrassing drunkness), a vodka-gin mix ‘gidka’ renowned amongst my teenage friends too stupid to know we were killing our livers: I am no stranger to the peaks and troughs of alcohol consumption.

While my late teens and gap year were characterised by excessive alcohol intake to stave off the boredom of a misspent youth, it only got worse at university. British university culture is so massively predicated on boozing it is near impossible for me to imagine how my regularly sober friends cope. Every night of my fresher term at university could be summed up in a hazy blur if only I had enough brain-cells left to remember it.

...it is illogical that I am willing to splash £30+ on a night out but wince at the same in groceries

In my first month at university I spent more money than in my first term of third year, and this was no doubt in part due to the freedom of uni culture with no mum to tut at my hangovers the next morning. As if the hangovers weren’t bad enough, the secret that sexy whiskey ads and supermarket bargain bins don’t want you to know is that drinking is really expensive.

Money on drink itself, on club entrance, post-night out chips and pitta, hungover next-day Deliveroos… it all stacks up. As a part-time Masters student working (in theory) for my money, it is illogical that I am willing to splash £30+ on a night out but wince at the same in groceries. There are really no excuses for my personal drinking culture, but I’m happy to make them.

It can seem near impossible to socialise without booze. Not only is Dutch courage a crutch I regularly fall on, but every event seems centred around the bar. Seeing friends? Drinks at mine. Summer socialising? Tinnies at the park. Post exam celebrations? Get a pint in. First date? Go for a cocktail. The examples are never ending, and I’m a sucker for an excuse.

Not only does drinking make you poor, tired, and momentarily unwell - it is really bad for you! (Shock, horror…) I can blame my ballooning waistline on stress, an over-powerful tumble dryer, mislabelled clothing sizes, or bad angles, but the truth is clear - I’m on my way to a beer-belly. I’ll be the first to admit, but only because I want to beat people to the inevitable conclusion.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema / Unsplash

My skin, while usually pretty clear, hasn’t been ideal lately, and my sleeping pattern is a testament to poor choices and an unhealthy lifestyle. Alongside money and mental and physical wellness, a little of my sober challenge is a vision of vanity - if I can slim down and shape up a little during this process, I’ll be more than happy.

It can seem near impossible to socialise without booze. Not only is Dutch courage a crutch I regularly fall on, but every event seems centred around the bar.

As much as Sober for October is a brilliant feat to undertake for charity - it shouldn’t be. It should be unthinkably easy to go a month without drinking. So with house-parties, birthdays, and socials encroaching, I am asking myself why I am feeling so much undefinable dread. An illogical part of me worries I may be friendless, unsociable and alone, this month, and although my logic brain knows this is a fallacy, I am still worried.

This October I will be undertaking a lot of introspection. If your friends tell you they’re Sober for October, don’t ask why, ask why not. When you feel compelled to have a little warm-up drink in advance of pre-drinks, ask why. I am not saying everyone should go sober, but after this month I hope to know why it is shocking that I might.

Featured: Unsplash / mnm.all


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