Hi, loves <3

I didn’t want to post this picture. I wanted to look like my skin is better, like my hair is better, like I have fewer chins. Like I’m the picture of Sober Health. I want to look the way people think people should look when they've not drunk alcohol for over a year. Lovely people comment that my skin is looking SO wonderful thanks to being AF, but it’s also thanks to tinted moisturiser and charcoal soap. It’s ALSO not always wonderful – I haven’t had a pizza or ice cream in a whole frickin week (MORE ON THAT IN ANOTHER POST) but I’ve still got a billion zits growing out of my face. Annoying? Yes. Completely inexplicable? No. I increased my hormones dosage last week, I’ve eaten more cheese than France can replace this week, and I’ve not slept for more than 6 hours a night for a while (the wonderful thing is that I need SO much less sleep!), for various reasons. So here I am, in all my monstrous glory.
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I am ALL about trying to deconstruct the narrative that a sober life is only for either AA-attending “proper” alcoholics or for middle class standard-sized white people who have a penchant for running and yoga. Click on any #sobrietyhashtag on the Instagrams, and you’ll be blinded by abs and perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect thigh holes and #hashtagblessed and yes, we should ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY CELEBRATE OUR ACHIEVEMENTS AND HARD WORK BUT. But. Butt. Quitting alcohol hasn’t made me lose much weight (it has made me less puffy, and it has kept me relatively stable despite the onslaught of pizza and ice cream and flapjacks I have thrown at my body over the last 377 days, particularly since I ended a 20 year heavy smoking habit). And yet, if I get frustrated about the vast majority of sober journeys referencing weight loss, surely I can talk about how I’m learning to love my body where it is, as well as working to get it to where I want to be. I’ve worked really fucking hard to get to where I am. My “after” may be someone else’s “before”, but I know where I’ve come from. Quitting alcohol has improved my skin, for the most part, but it’s not perfect. I’ve still got rosacea, I’ve still got spots (thanks, ancestors), I’ve still got hair that goes from fluffy to greasy in 15 minutes flat. There are so many things about my body that can – and do – make me unhappy, feeling frustrated that things aren’t going the way I want them to go fast enough … but do you know what HAS changed since I gave up the booze? Let. Me. Tell. You.

I know myself better. I can tell when I’m getting cranky due to fatigue, when I’m getting hangry, when I’m getting overly whelmed. I can make the difference between what makes me unhappy about my body because it stops me comfortably doing or wearing something, and what makes me unhappy because of the fucking patriarchy and media and advertisements and shite and the people who buy into it and repeat it (myself included). I can catch myself in the negative habit loops and change shit up, stopping myself before I fall too far down a rabbit hole. I practise gratitude regularly, as much as the idea of it made me want to gag when I first started it. I “check in with myself” frequently – it does not come naturally to me, but it is a VERY effective defence mechanism against cumulative overwhelm or stress or burnout or rundown. I set alarms, I have people who call me out and call me in. I have more patience. I am more zen (I am not always zen. I still sometimes want to take a screwdriver to those who annoy me, but I don’t). I preach love and gentle strength for and towards all, and yet I still sometimes find myself holding onto resentment for those who live on such a different political plain to me that I can’t fully see them as humanE (that e is important). But I can see myself and my inconsistencies and insecurities, and I have enough clarity, humility and patience with myself to do the work. I have to constantly remind myself to come back to self, to come back to light and to breathe through it, but I do. I have to remember what is mine to hold, and what is not, and I don’t always remember in time, but I’m getting better at it. And I’m allowing myself to get better at it because I have proven to myself the things that I can do. I can do hard things. I can breathe through it and/or hold my breath til I get to the other side. I can ask for help when and where I need it. I can change my life in a thousand amazing ways in just over a year – I can do this, too.

So as much as I am not comfortable being the poster person for spotty chubby sobriety, for not always getting it right despite doing more and more work in the field, it’s time to put my mouth where my money is (wait what?). Here I am. Now sitting with a buggered back, digesting FAR too much mushroomy pasta and wondering whether I have the energy to make breakfast (tonight really, you know what’s what) biscuits or if I should go to a bakery in the morning instead and just live with a little pang for sugar tonight. We’ll see! You are loved. Hold onto your little monsters - both internal and external – they are deserving of all the love, gentleness and hand holding we can provide.

If you were looking for a sign to recommit to not drinking alcohol, at least for November – let this be it. Do not drink booze in November. Do not booze through the new locking down. Do not drink booze to get you through the election or the confinement or the aftermath or the worry, it will not help. Do not drink booze to ‘celebrate’ Thanksgiving or get over a loss or a fear or a celebration. Do not make yourself weak so other people can feel strong. Find your strength, whether it is in your arms or your legs or your words or your heart or your convictions or your voice or your attitude – find it, hold onto it, and use it to make and be the change you want, and we need, to see in the world. Don’t have the first one, it’s never enough, so it’s always too many.
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I love you all. <3

We are constantly surrounded by adverts for booze, both explicit and implicit. Had a hard day? Have a glass (or a bottle) of wine! Celebrating a win? Have a glass (or a bottle) of champagne! Had a big shock! Have a glass (or bottle) of whisky, brandy, cognac! Going clubbing? Don’t forget your vodka, or your cocaine! Off to the pub? Buy 13 pints, the next two are free!

If you’re well-prepared, you’ll put the bucket, water and aspirin next to the bed before you even go out, and pre-order your delivery of greasy food for early the next afternoon. Hangovers are a rite of passage! Nah, you’ve not got a problem – everyone feels like this. It’s normal. This is how you PROVE you’re a teenager / adult / hard worker / successful parent / real person. Everyone blacks out now and then. Of course it’s fine to go out for one drink and come home 6 hours and $200+ later, not remembering where you went or who you talked to. It’s normal, mate … what you need is a hair of the dog.

(/sarcasm filter)

I lived that, for so many years. It was a way to be one of the Kool Kids (I smoked Kool menthols too – Double Kool, *eyeroll*). A way to make new friends, to bond, to have fun and take the pressure off (I didn’t always know how to have fun in a Kool Way, but getting drunk made me care less about that). All through college and university, then from the moment I moved to France … alcohol was by my side all the time. It just made things so much more fun, you know? It didn’t matter if I didn’t really like the first boy I dated, because he was a big drinker too, so at least I didn’t have to pretend to be fine splitting a (single!) bottle of wine over Tuesday night dinner, we could both “hold our drink”, and so we did! Numerous drinks. Why bother getting on top of my marking when I could go out with some students and make them think of me as a fun friend instead of respect me as a teacher?! What do I like about the culture in Paris, or in Lyon? Well, I like the cheese, I like the bread, and I really like the wine and cigarettes and the fact that nobody judges you (openly) for indulging in them.

I gave up alcohol for Lent, once. When I realised that mocktails weren’t included in the 2 for 1 happy hour that alcoholic cocktails benefited from, my inner cheapskate took over (encouraged by the Booze Bitch), I switched the Virgin Mojitos for slutty ones, and never looked back. Any other attempts to quit boozing or smoking fizzled out after a few days (tops) – life’s too short, non? Life is for LIVING! Living like I did with my weekends, when I didn’t leave my house, alternating between the bed and the sofa and the bathroom. Living like I did when I had to cancel class after class due to “anxiety and IBS” (turns out? over 90% hangovers). Living like I did when people asked me what I liked to do besides going out and drinking – there was certainly no dying inside at those moments, oh no.

And then in October 2019, I decided to cut out alcohol for a month, to give my fledgling coaching practice some of the famous alcohol-free firepower it needed. I ended up turning the sober-powers I acquired in on my own personal life, with benefit after benefit showing through. More energy, better sleep, more at peace, much lower anxiety, truer laughs, increased focus and concentration. Meeting likeminded people, fighting through the dull days together and celebrating each other’s wins, encouraging each other through losses and stumbles. I kept on extending my “challenge” because the challenge, and the group of people I was fighting alongside every day, kept on opening new doors to possibility and potential for me. Bright eyed and bushy tailed in more ways than one, able to deal with heartache and hardships because I’m sober, not despite it. Surviving a form of long-COVID, thanks to ditching a nearly 20-year addiction to nicotine which in itself was possible thanks to having thrown out the booze. All that to say? It is WORTH IT. It’s worth every single minute, every single doubt, every single moment spent fighting the Booze Bitch, every single fucking comment along the lines of “let me know when you’re drinking again, we’ll go out and celebrate then!” – because I’m drinking NOW, I’m just not drinking booze! And yet.

And yet. And yet. I know how hard it can be. I’m lucky that I found my group at the right time for me, and that I was able to find my voice and my tribe within that tribe. I’m lucky I’d already trained as a coach, that I can understand the interactions between people, the links between addiction and “coping mechanisms”, the beliefs that can stop us from really, truly letting ourselves go full throttle. I’ve been through therapy, and I’m having some more now – not in an admission of defeat, but in a celebration of reaching a point where I need some outside help in order to grow more and go further. And this brings me to sober coaching (finally, I know). It is not an admission of defeat. If you work with a sober coach, it is not because you are a raging alcoholic or about to become one (and if you are and you want to work with me or any other ethical sober coach, there will almost always be limitations as to what help a sober coach can offer, and we would always recommend you be followed by a medical practitioner before making any big changes to your alcohol consumption) – it is because you recognise that you need some outside help in order to grow more and go further.

What can a sober coach help you achieve?

• Figure out your reasons for going on an alcohol-free adventure, which will help you all through the journey
• Draw up a roadmap of where you want to go, what you want to achieve, and how you’re going to do so – taking it step by step, so it doesn’t feel insurmountable
• Point out and immortalise big realisations and achievements along the way, helping you to focus on each success and recognise how far you’ve come
• Provide accountability and explore issues of control and responsibility
• Increasing your toolkit, sharing some tools which tend to work well, developing others according to your needs
• Get over any setbacks without them leading to a spiral slide into doom
• Give invitations for further thought or actions, not only focussing on the absence of booze
• Finding your tribe, your sober siblings
• Plan ahead and make sure you don’t leave anything to chance in the delicate moments
• Navigating difficult moments and realisations without the fake and fabled “help” of booze
• Making the adventure a positive one, a time of growth and exploration, of chasing real joy, of feeling all the wonders of life

 
My coaching experience is based in Transactional Analysis and Neurolinguistic Programming, with an emphasis on gentle strength (being gentle in how you look at and talk to/about yourself is in itself a sign of strength), of knowing intimately where you want to be, and working out the regular achievable steps to get you there. Other coaches may help you get the abs and the perky boobs you’re looking for – my style is more to help get the head and the heart in alignment, as well as getting the feet into those walking shoes. I aim to be militantly inclusive of all bodies and the humans who inhabit them, be that according to size, gender, race, age, sexual orientation, differing abilities or other.

I offer sober coaching online and on the phone, to individuals and small groups (next group adventure starts in November 2020), and continue to offer some subsidised places in my practice for those who want to do the work but can’t afford the full prices at the moment. If you’re looking to change your relationship with alcohol or other substances which are holding you back from living the life you want to lead, then please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Whether you’re on Day -1, Day 0 or Day 100+, if you’re ready to do the work and want someone by your side cheering you on, celebrating every success and working through each stumble, you can do this. Let’s start this adventure!
 

On est entouré·es en permanence par les pubs pour l’alcool, celles qu’on regarde ainsi que celles qui sont un peu plus insidieuses. T’as passé une sale journée ? Bois un verre (une bouteille) de vin ! T’as grave assuré au boulot ? Bois un verre (une bouteille !) de champagne ! Tu subis un gros choc ? Bois un verre (une bouteille) de whisky, de brandy, de cognac ! Tu sors en boîte ? N’oublie pas ta vodka, ni ta cocaïne ! Tu vas au bar d’à côté ? Prends 13 pintes, les deux suivantes te seront offertes !
Si on se prépare bien, on met le seau, l’eau et le doliprane à côté du lit avant même de sortir en soirée, et on pré-commande la livraison de McDo pour le lendemain. Les gueules de bois sont des rites de passage ! Mais non, t’as pas un problème – tout le monde ressent la même chose, c’est normal. C’est comme ça que tu PROUVES que t’es un·e ado, un·e adulte, que tu bosses fort, que t’es un·e parent qui assure, que t’es un vrai être humain. Tout le monde fait des black-out de temps en temps. Bien sur que c’est normal de sortir boire un verre à l’apéro et de rentrer 6h plus tard, avec 200€ en moins, sans se souvenir de quoi on a parlé avec qui. C’est normal, poto – ce qu’il te faut, c’est un poil du chien qui t’a mordu.

(/sarcasm filter)

J’ai vécu ça, pendant de nombreuses années. C’était un moyen pour moi d’être « Kool » (j’en fumais aussi, des menthols Kool). C’était un moyen de me faire des ami·es, de faire en sorte qu’iels m’aiment, de m’amuser et de ressentir un peu moins de pression (je ne savais pas toujours comment m’amuser comme les autres qui étaient né·es « kool », mais me bourrer la gueule faisait en sorte que je m’en fichais un peu). Au lycée, à la fac, puis à mon arrivée en France (kikou, je suis Britannique en fait, donc excusez les fautes please) … l’alcool était toujours à mes côtés, tout le temps. Ça rendait juste les choses plus fun, tu vois ? C’était pas grave si je n’appréciais pas vraiment le premier garçon avec qui je sortais, parce que c’était un grand buveur aussi, et je n’avais pas besoin de faire semblant d’être OK avec l’idée de se partager une (seule !) bouteille de vin un mardi soir ; on savait bien tenir l’alcool, alors c’est ce qu’on a fait. On a tenu beaucoup d’alcool. Pourquoi me faire chier à corriger mes copies si je pouvais sortir avec quelques étudiant·es et faire en sorte qu’iels me voient comme drôle et fun, et non pas une professeur à respecter ?! Qu’est-ce que j’aime dans la vie en France ? Ben, j’aime le fromage, j’aime le pain, et j’adore le vin et les clopes et le fait que personne ne te juge (ouvertement en tout cas) d’en consommer à l’excès.

J’ai arrêté l’alcool pour le Carême une fois. Quand j’ai réalisé que les « mocktails » (cocktails sans alcool, faux-tails) ne faisaient pas parti de la Happy Hour, j’ai laissé derrière moi mon Virgin Mojito, et j’en ai pris un bien dévergondé, sans me poser une question de plus. D’autres essais d’arrêter ou de réduire l’alcool ou la clope n’ont jamais duré plus de 2-3 jours, la vie est bien trop courte, non ? La vie, c’est pour être vécu ! Comme je la vivais pendant mes week-ends, à me trainer entre mon canapé, mon lit, et mes chiottes. Comme je la vivais quand il fallait annuler des cours, à cause des « angoisses et syndrome du côlon irritable » (plus de 90% à cause de l’alcool, je m’en rends compte maintenant). Comme je la vivais quand les gens me demandaient ce que j’aimais faire à part sortir et boire – je ne mourrais certainement pas au fond de moi à ces moments-là, oh que non !

Et puis en octobre 2019, j’ai décidé d’arrêter l’alcool pendant un mois, afin de pouvoir me concentrer sur ma nouvelle activité de coach. J’ai plutôt utilisé les sober-pouvoirs que j’ai pu développer dans ma vie personnelle, car les avantages ne cessaient d’apparaître. Plus d’énergie, un meilleur sommeil, plus apaisée, beaucoup moins d’angoisse, des vrais rires, une meilleure concentration. Rencontrer des gens qui étaient dans le même bateau, malgré nos différences. Réussir à survivre aux journées difficiles ou soirées ennuyeuses ensemble, se féliciter à chaque bataille de gagnée, se donner du courage à chaque fois que quelqu’un tombait ou se doutait. J’ai rallongé mon ‘challenge’ encore et encore, parce que le défi, en plus des gens que je rencontrais, ne cessaient de m’ouvrir de nouvelles portes vers des possibilités et des potentiels pour moi. J’ai pu survivre aux évènements et nouvelles difficiles non pas malgré l’absence de l’alcool dans ma vie, mais bien grâce à cela. J’ai tenu bon pendant le confinement, et j’ai survécu à une forme de long-COVID, aidée surement par le fait d’avoir arrêté de fumer – cela ayant été possible parce que j’avais déjà arrêté l’alcool. Tout cela pour dire ? ÇA VAUT LA PEINE. ÇA VAUT L’EFFORT. Ça vaut chaque minute, chaque doute, chaque moment de lutte contre la Garce de L’Alcool (bon, on lui trouvera un meilleur surnom, the Booze Bitch). Ça vaut chaque putain de commentaire de « ah ben dis nous quand tu rebois, on fêtera ça ensemble ! » parce que je bois MAINTENANT, juste pas d’alcool ! Et pourtant.

Et pourtant. Et pourtant. Je sais à quel point ça peut être difficile. J’ai de la chance d’avoir trouvé ma tribu au bon moment pour moi, que j’ai pu trouver ma voix et ma voie grâce à elle. J’ai de la chance d’avoir déjà été certifiée coach professionnelle, que j’arrive à comprendre les interactions entre les gens, les liens entre les addictions et ‘mécanismes de défense’, les croyances limitantes qui peuvent nous empêcher de vraiment, réellement nous laisser y aller à 100%. J’ai fait des thérapies et j’en refais une actuellement – ceci n’est pas une déclaration de forfait, mais un moyen de célébrer que j’ai atteint un stade où j’ai besoin d’une aide extérieure afin de pouvoir évoluer davantage et d’aller plus loin. Et donc, on arrive enfin (je sais) au sober coaching. Ce n’est pas déclarer forfait, s’avouer vaincu·e – ce n’est pas parce que t’es alcoolique ou en train de le devenir (mais si tu penses que tu l’es, moi-même et n’importe quel·le autre sober coach éthique te dirait qu’il y a des limites médicales dans ce que les coaches peuvent faire, et d’avoir un suivi par un médecin en parallèle) – c’est parce que tu te rends compte que t’as besoin d’une aide extérieure afin d’évoluer encore plus, et d’aller plus loin.

En quoi un·e sober coach peut t’être utile ?

• Identifier tes raisons pour débuter cette aventure sans alcool, qui t’aideront tout au long du voyage
• Concevoir un plan de là où tu veux aller, ce que tu veux accomplir, et comment tu vas t’y mettre – on y va petit à petit, pour ne pas se faire intimider par la montagne
• Souligner et se souvenir des grosses réalisations et succès en cours de route, t’aidant à te focaliser sur chaque réussite, et reconnaître tout ce que tu as parcouru
• Faire preuve de « accountability » (ce n’est pas vraiment une question de ‘rendre des comptes’, mais bien avoir quelqu’un en dehors de nous à qui on se doit de dire la vérité) et explorer le contrôle et la responsabilité
• Augmenter ta boîte d’outils, partager des outils qui ont tendance à bien marcher, en développer d’autres selon tes besoins et envies
• Surmonter les contretemps, sans qu’ils mènent vers une chute de désespoir et négativité
• Inviter la réflexion ou des actions supplémentaires, non seulement en ce qui concerne l’absence d’alcool
• T’aider à trouver ta tribu, tes frères, sœurs, adelphes de la sobriété
• Planifier et s’assurer que rien n’est laissé au hasard aux moments de vulnérabilité
• Naviguer des moments et réalisations difficiles sans la fausse, prétendue « aide » d’alcool
• Rendre l’aventure positive, un moment d’exploration et d’évolution, la chasse à la joie, de vraiment ressentir toutes les beautés de la vie

 
Mon coaching est basé dans l’Analyse Transactionnelle, la Programmation Neurolinguistique, avec un accent sur la force douce (c’est déjà une force d’être doux·ce avec soi-même, la façon dont on se regarde et la comment on se parle et parle de soi), de savoir intimement où l’on veut aller, et trouver les étapes à suivre pour y arriver. D’autres coaches pourraient t’aider à trouver des abdos et des nichons de ouf que tu recherches – moi et mon style, c’est d’aligner la tête et le cœur en plus de se charger de l’habillement du corps. Je tiens énormément à être inclusive de tous les corps et les êtres qui y vivent, que ce soit par rapport à l’âge, la taille, le genre, l’origine ethnique, l’orientation sexuelle, ou les capacités physiques.
Je propose du sober coaching à distance (sur internet et par téléphone) pour des particuliers et des petits groupes (la prochaine aventure en groupe débutera en novembre 2020), et je propose encore quelques places subventionnées pour celles et ceux qui veulent faire le travail mais n’ont pas les moyens en ce moment. Si tu cherches à changer ta relation avec l’alcool ou d’autres substances qui t’empêchent de vivre la vie que t’as envie de vivre, n’hésite pas à prendre contact. Que tu sois en Jour -1, Jour 0, ou Jour +100, si tu as envie de faire le travail et veux quelqu’un à tes côtés pour t’encourager, à fêter chaque réussite et explorer comment surmonter chaque difficulté, tu peux le faire. Que l’aventure commence !
 

Wow … what a whirlwind few days of comments and messages and therapy and celebrations and presents and thinking and deciding it’s been, since celebrating 365 days alcohol free on Monday, my full (leap) year on Tuesday, and the start of something new on Wednesday. And of course, pizza and ice cream and AF beer and also a rainbow of vitamins through fruit and vegetables.

So what next? Well, first of all, let’s look back. The most useful time to look back is to see how far we've come.

I became a certified business and life coach around October 10th, 2019. Within a week, I’d set up a new company as a professional coach (ticking the wrong box, inadvertently accepting to be considered like someone who’d earn in the 200-300 THOUSAND euros a year, oops). I’d had three weeks off the booze in the September as I was writing my accreditation dissertation, although I had two or three “cheat days” in that period. I decided I needed some of that AF firepower back to help me kickstart the business. I initially signed up for a 28 day challenge, October 20th 2019. Within the first three weeks there were enough positive changes to make me want to extend it – it wasn’t easy, and I was still smoking and vaping my head off, but it was kind of exciting, making (and eating) ALL the flapjacks, cleaning things, I think I even may have gone for a run (that didn’t last long!!), starting to feel my emotions a bit more clearly, feeling a few pink clouds pass my way and grabbing onto them for dear life. I did a little work on the business, but did most of my work in the group, the “tribe” – more reading and commenting than actual posting myself, leaving little nuggets of wisdom (!), encouragement or compassion for people, according to what they appeared to be asking for or needing. And some posts. I was finding my voice, and my people.

So, I extended my challenge, from a 28 day challenge to a 90 day challenge (I’ve just checked my records, apparently I waited until Day 28 to do it – almost certainly waiting for a last-minute discount, which I duly got! My mama taught me well!!). I realised that 90 days after October 20th, that took me past Christmas. Past New Year’s Eve. And I extended anyway. Not because I wasn’t scared (I was! Not necessarily that I’d “fail” and drink alcohol, but that it would be hard …), but because I wanted to know, to prove to myself that I could do it. I could celebrate Christmas and New Year without alcohol. I was starting to feel the exhilaration of the adventure – YES the challenging aspects were hard. There were times when I didn’t know what to do with myself, where I had too much energy, or too much sadness, or too much anger, and it wasn’t easy just *having* it all. Sitting with it, not being able to drink it away (there is a post coming on this soon), it was definitely a learning curve!! But I was starting to see what people were talking about – the magic that comes in waves.

By my Day 40, there was a monster Black Friday sale. I said fuck it – in for a penny, in for a pound. I signed up there and then to extend my 90-day challenge to a 365 one. If I can do Parisian punk bar birthdays with no alcohol, if I can do Christmas and NYE and the General Election and Brexit with no alcohol … I can bloody well do it for a full-on year, and see what comes of it. What’s the worst that can happen, eh? (2020 … you weren’t supposed to take that as a personal challenge!!!)

So I got through all that. I quit smoking, I figured out my gender identity, I did the coming out, I did the hard conversations. I survived covid-19, I survived imploding and exploding friendships and relationships. I survived quitting smoking and I survived the financial worries. I survived my aunt’s death and my dad’s diagnosis and my feeling a little lost and a lot locked down. I did a lot of thriving as well as surviving, and had the helpful reframing that I was getting through all that (and more) BECAUSE I wasn’t boozing or smoking, not DESPITE not boozing or smoking.

Then around Day 300, I started getting the itchy feeling, wondering what I’d do after 365. There were no more paid-for challenges that went beyond that. OH GOD. What do I DO? Do I even attempt to think about moderating? Do I say “that’s it, I’m done forever”? Do I go back to being pissed and passive and procrastinatory (lol I still do a LOT of procrastinating, but it’s all about progress not perfection, right?!)? OH GOD. I didn’t want to waste the next 2+ months of my journey by thinking ahead to what I’d be doing afterwards, so I made a commitment to myself that I would not go back to alcohol for at least 500 days. That felt more accessible than a full second year, and “never” feels like a word we should never say (never, whatever we do). It worked, and I really only started spinning out about the whole 365 OMG 365 OMG 365 thing around day 350, so honestly, I’m OK with that.

And now that I’m on the other side of that big landmark of 365? Now that I have a full year-ring on my insides, so even if someone cuts me open in 50 years when I’ve repickled myself into the bottom of a bottle of champagne (after getting rich off of telling my story and having Joanna Lumley play adult me in the TV movie of my life), even if THAT happens … I’ll always have this AF ring inside me. And I’ll have the things I’ve learned and the things I’ve done and the things I’ve not done. But I’ll also have a thicker ring than that, because I’ve committed (to myself, and now to you) to a full renewal of the series. Bring on Season Two, bitches – there have been SO many plot twists in this first season, and SO much character development, and SO many new faces being introduced … how could I not be excited for a full second season?!

As many of you know, diversity and inclusion matter to me very dearly. I think the sober world needs to amplify more voices – not to shut out those of the runners and the yogis and the juicers, but to bring others up to the same level. Think of how far the message can be spread if we’re singing with a full fucking choir, rather than just the prettiest twinkliest sopranos and the deepest strongest basses? Let’s buy more mics, and build a bigger stage.

So that’s what I’ll be doing next, and that’s what I’m doing now. I’m still working on my coaching business, developing plans and projects. Working on finding ways to include more and more faces and voices, to bring in more mics, and to get that stage extension done in a safe, sustainable and sound way. I’m writing my book. I’m teaching. I’m riding my bike and doing my therapy work and washing my hands and wearing my mask. And I’m excited to see what this next new year will bring - for me, and for you.

​<3

"Bang on?!"

Someone accused a dear friend of mine of “banging on” about her sobriety not too long ago. I’m sure many people have thought the same about me, although they’ve had the grace (let’s call it grace) to not say it to my face.

What are we allowed to “bang on” about? New jobs, new partners, new children, new lives. New TV shows, new cars, new houses, new noses, new crushes. Old ones too, to be fair. We’re allowed to bang other things too, but I’m not going there right now.

What are we not allowed to “bang on” about? Going sober, going ve*an, quitting smoking, dipping a toe into mindfulness, yoga, running. Racism, transphobia, homophobia, ageism, misogyny, class discrimination, ablism.

I used to roll my eyes when close drinking friends would have a month or two or three off alcohol. Yeah yeah, better skin, better hair, better shits, better sleep, better whatever. UNE AUTRE S’IL VOUS PLAÎT. I’m not judging those who are still rolling their eyes, because it’s really hard to believe that everyone *isn’t* actually lying, until you start to feel it for yourself.

But I also know that if it wasn’t for people who have the courage to “bang on” about the benefits that can come through not drinking alcohol DESPITE the eye rolls, I wouldn’t be about to celebrate a year without drinking alcohol and all the amazing things that have happened since I made that decision. If it wasn’t for those who have the courage to “bang on” about trans rights, the existence of non-binary people, the spectrum and universe that exists outside of the cis-centred binary, I wouldn’t have found it so “easy” to come out as non-binary trans.

To paraphrase (not plagiarise) Lady Gaga – there can be 100 people in a room and 99 of them don’t bang on about something but all it takes is one and it just changes your life.

And to directly quote the democratically-elected president of everyone’s heart, Ms Barbra Streisand – I’ll march my band out, I’ll bang my drum.

If you have something you want to bang on about, you do just that, OK? You never know who’s listening and needing to hear you.

<3

(picture of Barbra looking wise and dignified, borrowed from Variety)

Some mantras and thoughts from Day 355 AF

I do not owe anyone a tidy ‘after’ picture.
I am still a work in progress.
I have always been a work in progress.
Every day is an “after” of the day before, and a “before” of the day to come.
I am doing the very best I can with the tools, energy, and availabilities I have at any moment.

I spent all my adult life building my social circles around who would encourage / tolerate / join in with me drinking and smoking far too much. I can hold my relationships, past and present, with grace through the inevitable changes that come through my changes and theirs. A changing relationship can be sad, it can be hard, it can have a dramatic moment or ending or turn out to be a fizzlepopleurgh, but it isn’t, in itself, bad.

Taking the gin goggles off meant I could see myself and my world, and the me and world I wanted to see, so much more clearly. Knowing who and where I want to be is one thing – getting there takes small, intentional, committed, regular steps. Sometimes ahead of others, sometimes alongside them, sometimes behind them, sometimes in a different direction to them.

I am allowed to say no. I am allowed to say please. I am allowed to say stop and say more and say yes. I am allowed to want. I am allowed to dream. I am allowed to be who I want to be, no matter what you thought I should be. I am allowed.

“No” was my go-to answer when I was living 2/3 of my life with a hangover. I’m learning to say “yes” to the right questions, and to bring in the people who ask them.

Sobriety, or an AF life, doesn’t have one single face, it looks different for each person. For some it might be a break, an opportunity for rest (the liver appreciates it – the skin and the eyes, too). For others it can be a boost of firepower (the brain loves it - levels of focus and creativity can rocket). Some are drawn to sport, to “eating clean” and running marathons. Some are drawn to eating sweets and finding other ways to increase their comfort levels. Your body is changing, and your brain is, too. Allow that to happen. For those who have had babies, who have healed from traumatic diseases, accidents, treatments – you know what it can take to pursue healing. Some will go kill it at the gym, and if that’s right for you then that’s just great. Some others will need to work on getting their head around a softer body, if things slow down. My only advice for you, whichever camp you fall in (or if you straddle both), is: go gently. Be gentle with yourself. Be gentle with your past self. Be gentle with your loved ones and the world.

I do not owe anyone a tidy ‘after’ picture. I am repeating this to remind myself, sometimes many times a day, as I approach my first Day 365. I know it’s significant. I know it’s a huge achievement. I know it needs to be marked in some way. I also know that the more pressure I put on myself around that day, the less I will enjoy the run-up, and the day itself. Which is why, a couple of months ago, I committed to doing at least 500 days AF. I am not done learning from this. My ‘after’ will never be permanent, it will always be in progress. I am perfectly imperfect, as are you.

I feel like my angry self, the one who was constantly exasperated (a wonderful combination of exhausted and constipated, there), that self is slipping away. It takes time and it takes effort. I’m still holding onto some righteous anger – for the injustices in the world, for inequality and meanness, and for my upstairs neighbours who will not shut up – but I’m also letting go of a lot. I don’t need it any more. I can feel sad and tired and scared and overwhelmed and intimidated, and they don’t have to be filtered through anger to be expressed. I can feel happy and giddy and joyful and content and proud, and they don’t have to be poured through a coffee filter (how many times have YOU drunk filtered wine after ruining the cork in the bottle?!). There is a weird peace that comes only after walking (running, cleaning, zooming) through the hyper moments of AF LIFE GIVING YOU ENERGY AND LIFE AAAAAARGHYAYYAY? And those moments still come, those giggles, those roars. They’re felt differently, and they’re remembered better, but they’re still there.

Beware of the binaries and the absolutes! Don’t give into the pressure to constantly be at the pub proving how good you are at AF socialising / feel like you have to stay at home and never see anyone again (COVID restrictions permitting, of course). Don’t force yourself into pilates or Zumba or C210K / think you can only eat M&Ms and haribo from now on. Don’t assume you need to learn 12 languages and set up a coaching business / imagine you must move to the countryside and raise chickens. All of those things are amazing, if they’re right for you. And there are so many other things that will be right for you and wrong for me, and vice versa. Whatever you want – FOR YOU – is amazing, too. You get to choose. For so many of us who started drinking in our teens and never really stopped – we haven’t had the opportunity, as adults, to take a step back (sober!) and think about how we really want our lives to look. So give yourself that opportunity. If you don’t feel that famous clarity after a month? Give it two months! If you’re still learning things about yourself / the world / alcohol / society / tapeworms on the approach to a year? Carry on going! If something's not working out - try something different. Breathe through it. Reach out, see if you're alone in your experience (you're not!). Literally nobody else but you can decide where you draw the line. I’m happy to be on this wobbly line with you, wherever you're at on your journey/s. <3

OK so here’s a thing I’ve wanted to say for a long time, and which isn’t easy to say. Alcohol-free life is not just for the middle-class, middle-aged, yoga-doing, able-bodied cishet white professionals who dove a bit too deep into the G&T after work and wine with/for/after dinner topped off by a whiskey. In so much of the stuff I would see online in the days when I was “sober-curious” before knowing what that really meant, they were the only people I’d see in the marketing and the discussions. And maybe that’s because I’m on my way to becoming a middle-class, middle-aged, yoga-doing, mostly able-bodied white professional and the algorithms just thought that like would attract like, but it’s just not good enough.

Disclaimer: I KNOW how hard it can be for people from the above lives to explore sobriety. I KNOW how the marketing works, how the societal pressures work, how the "but it's tradition!" and "it's normal, have another!" and "beers + bants" work. And it is amazing the progress that so many people have made, the fights that they're continuing to fight. HOWEVER.

There is a severe lack of representation of sober stories from the BIPOC/BAME communities, from the disability communities, from the LGBTQIA+ communities. And I’m not saying this to fluff up my SJW feathers and pat myself on the back for being So Inclusive – I’m saying it because it’s true. Diversity matters, both in terms of marketing and in terms of the spaces provided for people exploring their sobriety / disordered consumption issues. I haven’t created my own Sobriety Space (yet!) so of course it’s easy for me to imagine that everything I do would be perfect, with everyone coming together in joyous harmony, sharing, respecting the mixing and separations when each was appropriate, learning from one another and helping to make our inner and external worlds the heavenly places we know we deserve to inhabit – I know that reality would likely be different, and of course it’s tricky and messy and not all black and white (pun not fucking intended thank you kindly).

I am trying to navigate my way around the line separating inclusion/support, and blackwashing/gawking. The accounts I am starting to follow on Instagram (Twitter is HARD, I don’t LIKE it, you can’t MAKE me), I’m trying to follow a variety of sources and people. Because it is so easy to just go along with what is suggested, which just happens to (tend to) be white middle-class, able-bodied, cishet people who are more familiar with their own abs than I could ever be - with theirs or my own. And those people are great! Some of my best friends are people like that! Seriously. I am incredibly grateful for those people who I have met who’ve held me and supported me and inspired me and encouraged me, who just so happen to also belong to that ‘standard of sobriety’. But I want more, as well.

I’ve wanted more for much of this nearly year-long journey. I started this journey by joining a community set up by a company who clearly knew who to target – those of us who forgot to sign out of Facebook before googling “how to get over a hangover quickly”, or “is it normal for my liver to hurt most mornings?”, or “alcohol consumption guidelines” or “does alcohol really affect your anxiety?” (yes, it does) or "surely everyone feels like this no? yes? please?". And I am so immensely grateful to the company for providing me with the space in which I could find my voice and my passions and my strength and my soul and my self and my potential and my friends and family and my fellow tribe members. And I always have been grateful, and always will be. And I also need to be more proactive in a way that can help to expand the joy of sobriety, or alcohol-free living, or being AFAF, or whatever you want to call it, in a way that fits in with MY values, which are very much about equity, justice, inclusivity and inclusion.

I’m here to listen to stories, and to tell mine. I can’t tell a story which I haven’t lived, or experienced at some point in my life. There will be people whose stories I can’t understand so easily, as there are people who struggle to understand mine. I can speak to my stories concerning my queerness, my transness, my Britishness in France, my Fake Frenchness, my fatness, my expatness, my anxiousness, and my othernesses. I can and will speak to all of those stories, and I want to hear others. I want to know and support other tellers of stories. Those who struggled, those who are flying through it. The way family and the various cultures we inhabit can affect our modes of consumption. The ways in which our lived experiences and the way the world has told us to shape ourselves and hold ourselves and *be* ourselves, how they can massively affect the way we then deal with what we put into or do with our bodies. The way the stories we have told for so long affect the stories we allow ourselves to tell now.

I want to tell my story. I’m starting to tell it. My story is one that began just under a year ago, and has been written for the last 36 years at least. It is different from anyone else’s, and also exactly the same. There are certain plot twists not everyone will get, and some details that would be swapped around, but it’s a story of finding myself through the freedom of no longer having to drink alcohol, and no longer wanting to hide in it.

It was all I knew. Sad? Drink! Scared? Drink! Excited? Drink! In love? Drink! Hungry? Drink! Nervous? Drink! Hungover? Drink! Drunk? Drink! Overworked? Drink! Underpaid? Drink! Triggered? Drink! Angry? Drink! Tired? Drink! Stressed? Drink! At a party? Drink! Alone? Drink! Alive? Drink! I didn’t know that I was allowed to be any other way. I didn’t know that I was able and allowed to find the answers to the questions I drank to avoid. I didn’t know that I was not only capable of surviving and living in uncomfortable moments, but that they would be the ones that would stretch and teach me the most.

For me, my journey with sobriety has never been about getting ready to run a marathon, or finding long-lost abs. In the last year of not drinking, I’ve quit a nearly 20-year fairly heavy smoking habit, and survived a battle with long COVID-19 as well as confinement, and my weight and fitness levels have fluctuated in consequence of that. I occasionally have to remind myself of my rule that  my body is my temple no matter what it’s built with – if that’s pizza boxes and ice cream pots, or carrot peelings and chick peas (it’s a combination of both, tbh) – then it’s still my body which still deserves my love, because it’s still got me inside. I still catch myself having fatphobic thoughts to myself and others. I still need to remind myself on a VERY regular basis that I do not need to shrink myself down for ANYONE. I don’t owe anyone a single ab in my ‘after’ pictures, because despite the outer changes, the inner ones have been phenomenal (and are still coming!). One of the benefits of not drinking alcohol is that I am now more aware of what my body needs. If I’m craving a fry-up, it could be because my iron levels are down, or my body needs some extra fat (cos it doesn’t yet know how to get it from my thighs), or just that I want some fried comfort – and THAT’S OK. Being able to hear my body’s needs and wants better, because they’re not being gasped out through a brutal hangover, means I can (work to) throw off old, remembered guilty feelings around pleasure. I deserve this. You do, too. I deserve treats – not only because I’m sober, but because I’m trying.
 
So here are new uncomfortable moments for me. Reaching out, saying: I want more, please. I want different. I want to play a part in opening this up. Sobriety or recovery or AF living shouldn’t only be for heroin addicts who hit rock bottom or yuppy professionals who “went a bit too far”. I want to listen to and be part of the conversations surrounding alcohol and drug abuse / overuse / self-medicating within the LGBTQIA+ communities, and its links with mental (and physical) health. I want to find fat sober people to explore and share in the joy of food and drink without alcohol in it. I want to know how to use my privilege as a white person to better support, amplify and celebrate the stories from the BIPOC/BAME communities and their work and thoughts on sober living. I’m looking for book recommendations, podcast recommendations, accounts to follow, people to get in touch with. I’m looking to chat, in DMs or in comments or by email or by PHONE. I am looking to build on my connections, to contribute what I can, and to work on that intersectionality that is so fucking important in ALL areas of life. If I’d seen a nonbinary fairly political chubby trans femme in their 30s living their best sober life on Insta a few years ago? Well … it might not have changed all that much, especially not if I wasn’t ready... But I’m ready now, to see and be seen.

I do recognise that I’m coming at this from a position of privilege. I have had the opportunity to learn a FUCK TONNE over the last year, listening to and learning from hundreds and thousands of different people’s stories. And before that, I was in the privileged position of being able to take a year off work and train as a professional and life coach. I have coached, and continue to work with people on their sobriety or problematic relationships to alcohol or other substances. It is part of my job, and I’m OK with it – I have bills to pay, too, and if I can do good in the world and make money from elements of that at the same time? Yes please, hello ikigai. I’m not into exploiting vulnerable people, nor am I into being exploited – the happy medium, as always, lies somewhere along that fuzzy, not always comfortable line.

This long-winded (who, me?!) post is mostly to say: I see you. You who don’t necessarily see yourself in the adverts or in the groups or in the tribes or in the books or in the future … I see you. Come sit with me, let’s see what we can see together.

(le français plus bas)

My pronouns? In English I use two sets of pronouns, or rather: I’m ok with people using two sets of pronouns when referring to me. I’m fine with people using “she/her/hers” pronouns when referring to me (subjective pronoun: "Jo is an amazing coach, she really helps me to see everything I’m capable of" … objective pronoun: "Jo is a fun teacher, I really learn a lot with her" … possessive pronoun: "I had a great session with Jo last week, and her cat even came and said hello at the end!" … reflexive pronoun: "working with Jo is wonderful because she’s open about the work she’s still doing on herself concerning her modesty!"). However, I do identify as non-binary, under the transgender umbrella, and I really like the ambiguity, inclusiveness, and expansiveness of the singular “they” pronoun – same grammar lesson coming up! Subjective pronoun: "Jo is an amazing coach, they really help me to see everything I’m capable of" … objective pronoun: "Jo is a fun teacher, I really learn a lot with them" … possessive pronoun: "I had a great session with Jo last week, and their cat even came and said hello at the end!" … reflexive pronoun: "working with Jo is wonderful because they’re open about the work they’re still doing on themself concerning their modesty!").

There are some people who may prefer to use “she” pronouns when referring to me because they disagree with the use of gender-neutral singular “they”. I always want to respect a difference of opinion, but I’ll just mention here the fact that even back in the late 1300s, authors such as Chaucer and his peers were using singular, gender-neutral “they” (see here)  and writers from Emily Dickinson to Jane Austen to even JK Rowling have used “they” to refer to a person whose gender is unknown, uncertain, or irrelevant. My gender is almost certainly going to be irrelevant to our collaborations, unless we are working on gender-specific topics, so if possible, I’ll ask that you use “they” pronouns when referring to me, and remember that before being a trans woman or a woman or an enby or nonbinary … I’m a person. Not everything has to be gendered, and surprisingly it is often the people who want to use gendered language when referring to people who then accuse us nonbinary folk of “hijacking language”. Referring to me as a person should be enough, unless you’re talking to my gynaecologist in which case – tell her to call me back!

When I came out as nonbinary, I toyed with the idea of using “iel”, a new set of pronouns used by and for nonbinary people in French. Confession time: I couldn’t stick to it. I am very much in favour of it, I would like to learn to use it and be more assertive in asking others to use it while referring to me … but it was not a hill on which I was prepared to expire. Shit’s tiring. Life as a trans person is tiring. Life as a freelancer / independent is tiring. Life in general is tiring. In 2020? Jesus. So I shelved “iel” to the back of my list of things to pick up one day, and I use exclusively feminine “elle” pronouns and 'accords' (with the adjectives) in French. This is a battle for another day.

Why do I put my pronouns everywhere? Because it’s good practice. This Medium article by Max Masure explains it so beautifully that I don’t have to – give it a read. I linked to this article in my email signature for 10 months, only changing to this blog article (which still links to it – thanks Max!). I didn’t display my pronouns (on social media or in my email signature) until after I came out, even though the advice in the article is for all allies to do so … I knew in my heart that I wasn’t really cis and didn’t want to commit one way or another. Still – if you feel like your pronouns are fixed (at least for now) … add them wherever you can, if it feels safe to do so. It normalises sharing pronouns, which makes it less of a “trans-only” action, helping it to become the standard approach. We can’t just presume anyone’s gender, so making a ritual out of giving or asking for people’s pronouns, it sends a little ripple of inclusivity throughout the world. And from a personal point, any cis person who shares their pronouns in a setting just because it’s good practice, not as a Performative Inclusion of The Trans Person Present … they instantly get extra smiles and biscuits from me FOR LIFE. So, y’know … Do it for the kids, do it for the adults, do it for the biscuits, but do it where and whenever you can.

My first name? Jo. What’s it short for? Jo. What’s its long form? Jo. What’s my middle name? My Business. If you see another first name out there floating around, attached to a different version of me on the internet or in the annals (careful!) of administrative hell? Please wrap it up delicately and bring it to me for safe disposal.

My title? I’m waiting for someone to make a lady out of me, but in the meantime I use Mx wherever possible (even Time magazine was talking about it back in 2015!), and Ms in all the other places.

What to do if you mess up? Apologise quickly and sincerely if possible (eye contact often helps), correct yourself if possible, and move on. Do not make a big song and dance and translala about how terribly sorry you are for misgendering me (or another trans person), but do show that you heard the mistake (we felt it) and you know it was a mistake (we felt it) and you’re sorry. Next? Use that sorriness, use your moment of awkwardness (we felt it) and turn it into good. Make sure it doesn’t happen again. When I’m with someone who repeatedly uses the wrong name or gender marker for me (I mean, I literally don’t care if you use ‘she’ or ‘they’, just don’t fucking use ‘he’!), at first I lose my comfort level with them, then I lose my faith in them as a person, then I lose my respect. Not over one mistake, but over several, over time? After being asked, then told how *not* to make those mistakes? Nah. I’m not here for that. So make an effort, and do your homework. This resource on Instagram (tai.draws) is super useful for what to do when you misgender someone, and how to stop it from happening again.

What to do if you hear someone else mess up someone’s pronouns, on purpose or by mistake? Correct them, if safe and appropriate to do so, for you and for the misgendered person. Quickly – it can be as simple as saying the correct pronoun. As above, don’t turn it into a big song and dance about performative allyshit (I’m keeping that typo); do contribute to an improved culture and relationship. Like when I see cis people giving their pronouns even when they don’t have to, cis people who appropriately correct others after they misgender someone … they get biscuits and doe-eyes. Seriously. It helps. I really appreciate you doing that work, holding that load just for a moment, so I can concentrate on doing other work. Thank you.



Mes pronoms (et accords) ? Alors en français c’est plus facile, c’est « elle » tout court, et accords féminins. En anglais, j’oscille entre « they » et « she » - voir le texte plus haut. Et en français, j’aimerais un jour dire que je vis pleinement et linguistiquement ma non-binarité à travers le langage que j’utilise quand je parle de moi, ou quand on parle de moi, en utilisant les pronoms « iel », « saon » etc ... Mais pour l’instant … le féminin l’emporte. C’est plus facile hein ? Vive la langue de Molière, à bas la langue des vipères.

A titre personnel j’évite un maximum de me genrer tout court – au lieu de dire que je suis la voisine d’en bas, je vais dire que j’habite en bas (et qu’il serait sympa de porter des chaussons s’il vous plaît). Que ce soit de l’évitement d’assumer pleinement mon genre … peut-être. Je ne crois pas. Je ne vois pas réellement l’intérêt de dévoiler mon genre lorsque je parle, mais je ne veux pas non plus laisser les autres se tromper à ce sujet, surtout si après ça va me revenir. Alors une petite lutte personnelle est de minimiser au maximum le genrage, que ce soit sociétal ou linguistique, et ainsi contribuer à un monde plus ouvert à tout type et parfum de personnes. Je reprendrai peut-être un jour la lutte pour l’acceptation des « iel », et je suis grande fan de l’écriture inclusive, mais j’ai un quota limité de luttes que je ne peux excéder – ajouter et imposer le langage neutre en français ne m’était juste pas possible – déjà ce n’est pas ma langue maternelle, et puis merde. Il y a toute une Académie à battre – j’ai faim d’abord ! Donc pour l’instant, c’est « elle » et « belle » et « coach professionnelle », merci de rien bienvenue.

Pourquoi je mets mes pronoms et accords de partout ? Parce que c’est bien. C’est bien qu’un maximum de personnes précise ses pronoms, que ce soit des personnes cisgenres ou transgenres ou non-binaires ou autre, c’est bien de normaliser le fait de donner et demander ses pronoms. « Bonjour, moi c’est Jo, j’utilise les pronoms et accords féminins, et toi ? » - ça, pour une personne en plein questionnement de genre, qui commence à peine de creuser ou assumer son genre, qui sort pour la première fois en mode « assumé·e » - ça peut tout changer qu’on lui présente nos pronoms avant de lui demander les siens. Ca le rend « normal », et ce n’est plus à la personne transgenre de faire tout le travail, et d’être la seule à parler de pronoms.

Cet article (en anglais, désolée – je n’en ai pas trouvé en français qui me plaisait suffisamment pour que je le cite ici) explique très, très bien en quoi c’est utile pour tout le monde de donner et demander ses pronoms. Je n’ai pas mis mes pronoms dans ma signature de courriel, ni sur les réseaux sociaux, avant de faire mon coming-out non-binaire transgenre. Pourquoi ? Parce que je n’assumais pas pleinement d’être « cis », mais que je ne voulais pas non afficher mes pronoms neutre / féminins. C’est OK. C’est OK si tu veux pas montrer tes pronoms parce que t’es en plein questionnement. Mais si tu connais les pronoms que tu veux qu’on utilise (féminins, masculins, neutres, autres) – c’est vraiment un beau geste de solidarité de les afficher si tu t'en sens capable. D’un point de vue personnel, n’importe quelle personne cisgenre qui donne et demande ses pronoms/accords dans un lieu juste parce que c’est bien, et non en tant que Inclusion Performative De La Personne Trans Qui Est Juste Là Chut Chut Elle Entend … ?! Cette personne là a droit à des sourires et biscuits supplémentaires de ma part, FOR LIFE. Alors, vas-y. Fais-le pour les enfants, fais-le pour les adultes, fais-le pour les biscuits, mais fais-le où et quand ça t’est possible.

Mon prénom ? Jo. Jo … ? Jo. Joseph ? Joséphine ? Joëlle ? Johanes ? Joanna Lumley ? Jo, juste Jo. Si tu vois un autre prénom dans le brouillard, qui se balade, attaché à mon nom de famille / une image de moi / perdu dans un trou noir administratif / sur internet ? Emballe-le précieusement et ramène-le-moi, afin que je puisse en faire le nécessaire.

Mon titre, mon état civil ? Là où c’est possible, j’utilise Mx, sinon c’est Mme en attendant qu’on fasse de moi une vraie Lady.

Que faire si tu te goures ? Présente tes excuses brièvement et sincèrement si possible (on peut souvent dire beaucoup de choses sans un mot, en passant par les yeux), corrige-toi si possible, et continue. N’en fais pas tout un translala, toute une chanson sur à quel point tu es désolé·e de nous avoir mégenré·e, mais montre-nous que tu as entendu l’erreur (nous l’avons sentie), que tu sais que c’était une erreur (nous l’avons sentie) et que t’es désolé·e. Ensuite ? Utilise cette petite gêne (nous l’avons sentie) et rends la en bien. Fais en sorte que ça ne se reproduise pas. Quand je suis avec quelqu’un qui utilise de nombreuses fois le mauvais prénom, pronom ou accord en parlant de ou à moi, je perds mon confort avec cette personne, je ne suis plus très à l’aise avec. Ensuite, je commence à perdre ma foi en cette personne et sa bienveillance, et si ça continue encore je perds mon respect et toute envie de la fréquenter. Pas si c’est une erreur qui arrive une fois, mais si c’est systématique ? Que je demande, et explique comment ne pas faire l’erreur ? J’ai pas le temps pour ça, ni la force, ni le courage. Alors fais un effort, et fais tes devoirs. Cette ressource sur Instagram (par l’artiste tai.draws) a été traduite en français par Gemma Nate et peut se trouver ici.

Que faire si tu entends quelqu’un d’autre se gourer dans les pronoms / accords et/ou expressément mégenrer quelqu’un ? Tu corriges la personne, si tu te sens capable et en sécurité de le faire ET si la personne mégenrée serait également en sécurité (on ne « out » pas les gens). Brièvement – ça peut être aussi simple que de dire le bon pronom ou accord. Comme pour toi si tu te goures, n’en fais pas tout un translala et de la performance d’allié cis sauveur·se du monde trans … mais contribue à des cultures et relations améliorées. Comme quand je vois des personnes cis qui donnent ou demandent des pronoms/accords même quand elles n’en ont pas clairement besoin, les personnes cis qui corrigent de façon appropriée d’autres personnes cis quand elles ont mégenré quelqu’un … ces personnes-là auront droit à des biscuits ET des yeux de biche. Vraiment. Ça aide. J’apprécie vraiment que tu fasses ce travail de correction, que tu portes ce poids rien que pour un moment, pour que moi je puisse faire d’autre travail. Merci.

English below! Ha!



Alors vous vouliez des poils. Les voici. Ollie, la plus grande diva du monde, qui se genre au masculin, et qui profite de la liberté d’un sofa tout fraîchement quitté par un étudiant. Ça me fait toujours bizarre qu’un étudiant revienne *en vrai* pour des cours – il y a eu si peu de monde ici depuis le début de l’année qu'avec Ollie, on s'est bien habitués à nous amuser tout seuls. Ce qui a à la fois amélioré et empiré mon agoraphobie et l’isolation. J’ai la chance d’avoir pas mal de gens avec qui je peux discuter à distance, par chat et vidéo et téléphone, donc je ne ressens jamais cette solitude de n’avoir personne à qui parler, mais la solitude qui vient par manque de câlins ou caresses, une touche humaine régulière, ou même un sourire de quelqu’un qui te regarde par les yeux et te sourit même de derrière un masque ? Holy wow … ça, ça fait mal. Et l’agoraphobie ? Je la connaissais déjà plutôt bien, et je ne sortais presqu’uniquement dans des « safe spaces », surtout ceux près de la maison, là où la consommation d’alcool était permise, même encouragée. Et puis j’ai arrêté de boire « pour un petit moment », en octobre 2019. Puis j’ai arrêté de fumer en décembre 2019. Les deux fois, je me suis retirée un peu de mon cercle d’amis, afin de savoir comment j’allais me comporter, comment j’allais naviguer les situations sociales sans mes « béquilles » qui étaient l’alcool et la clope (en plus de la vapoteuse !). Et ensuite, il y a eu le COVID-19 ! Le confinement ! Non, en fait, tu peux pas sortir, même si tu le voulais, tu pourrais pas. C’était « intéressant » de vivre les confinements, surtout vu que ça suivait mes propres « confinements » pendant que je me sevrais de tout ce que je connaissais depuis mes 16 ans … et c’est « intéressant » de retrouver la voie des formes de sociabilité auxquelles j’ai encore et de nouveau droit, et desquelles j’ai envie, tout en me gardant « safe » du COVID-19, des situations où j’aurais envie de boire « juste un seul verre » (ce n’était jamais qu’un seul, et ça n’en serait jamais qu’un seul) ou de fumer « juste une seule clope » (ce n’était jamais qu’une seule, et ça n’en serait jamais qu’une seule !!) et des situations où je suis à risque de me faire agresser verbalement ou physiquement parce que je suis une personne trans qui le vit en 2020. Quand je dis « intéressant », je veux dire que c’est dur et anxiogène et terrifiant et facile et simple et complexe et trop et essentiel à mon évolution et épanouissement et survie. « Intéressant » le résume de façon assez synthétique, mot qu’on emploi rarement à mon sujet !

Bref. Aujourd’hui j’ai eu un étudiant qui vient pour limiter les dégâts et se préparer à un examen et jouer avec les TROIS langues qui jouent dans sa tête, et c’est chouette d’avoir quelqu’un à proximité, même si ça a des inconvénients (chez moi, d’où je travaille la plupart du temps, sent surtout le nag champa ou des fringues tout propres ou de la ratatouille … toutes des odeurs qui font plaisir, aucune particulièrement professionnelle). Si toi aussi t’as envie de venir ici renifler toutes ces bonnes odeurs en tant qu’ami·e ou étudiant·e ou client·e, saches que t’es la bienvenue ! Mais porte un masque et lave toi les mains et souris-moi avec les yeux.



Bon, je dois aller me préparer pour une SOIRÉE ! C’est assez rare qu’on m’invite à des trucs et que je sois capable / envieuse de les faire, ces jours-ci. Alors il va falloir aller me mettre des paillettes. Bon week-end, chéri·es.





So y’all wanted some fluffy cat. Here he is. Here’s Ollie, splayed out like the diva of the world, enjoying the freedom of a recently-vacated sofa after my student left. It still feels strange having a real, physical student coming for lessons – there have been so few people here since the beginning of the year, that both Ollie and I have become rather used to our own company. It’s been both good and bad for the old agoraphobia and loneliness – I’m super lucky in that I have a lot of people I talk to online and on the phone, so I never feel that desperate loneliness of not having anyone to talk to … But the loneliness of not having regular hugs, regular human touch, even just the smile of a person looking at you in real life and smiling with their eyes even from behind a mask … Wow. That shit’s real. And the agoraphobia? I had a fairly hefty dose of it anyway, and would often keep to known ‘safe places’ – especially the ones at or close to home, and where alcohol was allowed/encouraged. And then I stopped drinking “for a while” back in October 2019, then stopped smoking and vaping back in December 2019, both times withdrawing a little from my social life in order to figure out how to navigate those social situations without my familiar crutches … and then, COVID-19. Lockdown. No, actually, you can’t go out now. Even if you wanted to. It’s been “interesting” living through the state-imposed lockdowns, especially when they followed my own, and it is “interesting” trying to find my way back to whatever forms of sociability I want and am entitled to, while keeping myself safe from COVID-19, from situations where I’m more tempted to have “just one” drink or cigarette (it was never and would never be “just one”), and from situations where I am more at risk of verbal and physical aggression for being a trans person living their life in 2020. When I say “interesting”, I mean hard and anxiety-inducing and terrifying and surprisingly easy and simple and stupidly complicated and not worth bothering about and essential to my evolution, growth and survival. “Interesting” seems to cover it all though. Anyway. I have a student who comes round to do damage limitation and exam preparation and play around with the THREE languages in his head and it is nice to have some physical proximity, even though it also comes with drawbacks (my flat, where I work from most of the time, tends to either smell of nag champa, freshly washed clothes, or ratatouille – all nice smells, none particularly professional). If you too want to be a friend or a student or a client and come round and see me and smell all those professional smells, please get in touch. And wear a mask and wash your hands and smile with your eyes.

I have to go and get ready for a SOIREE. It’s not so often that I’m invited to them and able / excited to go, these days. So this diva has to go fluff her feathers. Happy weekend, loves.

hi! please excuse the massive version of my noggin, i've not yet worked out how to play around with sizing on this thing, and someone told me i looked like a writer on it so please take me seriously. also pour les francophones, c'est plus bas (je commencerai en français la prochaine fois ^^).
this is my first blog post in a public format where my real name and my real face will be associated with the words i write ... and i don't feel scared, i just feel ready.
today is October 1st, 2020. and what a year it's been! i became a certified business and life coach a year ago this week, i had my last alcoholic drink 347 days ago, my last cigarette 10 months ago today ... and the world has been exploding and on fire and scared and scary. a year ago, i didn't expect things to look like this. not in the world, not in my personal life, not in my professional life! but here we go - we learn to roll with the punches, to get back  up, to try new approaches and visions. in the last year, i have: set up a new business, come out as non-binary / transgender (pronouns she or they, please), dealt with devastating family health crises and deaths, survived a relatively mild but tenacious and drawn-out battle with long COVID-19, lived through lockdown and an inability to travel "home" to get and give comfort from and to loved ones, resumed teaching in an old school, done yoga at least as many times as i have bought yoga pants, learned how to teach online, coached, tutored, read, written, spoken, watched more Netflix than i care to admit, baked a thousand flapjacks, ridden my bike a bit but not enough, started to write a book, and played my euphonium two whole times.
one of my mantras throughout this first year of my journey into alcohol free living has become "progress not perfection". it's about the journey, not the destination. any other twee, cliché quote you like. but the thing about progress not perfection, for a procrastinatory perfectionist like myself, it's about forcing myself to make progress. it's applying the coaching approach - looking to where you want to arrive, and figuring out what the smallest first step to get there can be. then taking another one. i've not always been great at following my own advice (shock, horror, surprise surprise). but today ... it feels right. my websites were a mess, so i simplified them into one. my social media strategy is non-existant so i'm just starting. if i get one person to read me and say hi ... well, that'll be a lovely start! hello, person! i'm not waiting until i have the perfect products to sell, the perfect services you'll want to convince Bezos to buy into - i'm no longer waiting for perfection, i'm here to make progress!
this blog will be a mix of professional and personal. it won't always be in english, and it won't always be relevant to you. the only thing i'd ask would be for you to engage with your heart, if you want. any comments you leave, ask yourself if you'd be happy if your grandparents read them, or your grandkids. or your cat. or me. cos i'm a real person, yep. so are you. let's treat each other as such. hi <3 looking forward to connecting with you, to getting to know me and you.

alors coucou toi, francophone venu.e ici me lire. comment ça va ? toutes mes excuses pour ma tronche gigantesque là-haut, je ne sais pas encore retailler les images, on fera avec parce qu'on m'a dit que j'avais l'air d'une écrivaine dessus alors on prend ça vraiment très au sérieux.
c'est la première fois que mon vrai nom et ma vraie tête et mes propres mots s'associent sur internet là où tout peut se trouver... mais même pas peur, je suis prête :)
bon je vais pas tout traduire hein, ça ne sert à rien, tu sais déjà bien lire l'anglais non ? ou sinon t'es venu.e ici pour l'apprendre ? non ? ah. bon. je t'expliquerai la prochaine fois qu'on causera.
on est le 1er octobre. le début du mois, début de l'automne. et ça fait une sacrée année, là, déjà. il y a un an, presque, je me suis fait certifier coach professionnelle et coach de vie. il y a 347 jours, j'ai bu mon dernier verre de vin, il y a 10 mois j'ai fumé ma dernière cigarette, tiré sur ma vapoteuse pour la toute dernière fois. depuis ... tout va bien, tout va mal, tout va. tout change. rien ne se fait comme prévu et tout se fait comme on aurait dû s'y attendre. en un an j'ai créé mon activité de coach, fait mon coming out trans / non-binaire (pronoms 'elle' ou 'iel' si tu t'y connais ^^), survécu à des diagnostiques terrifiants et morts familiales, tenu tête au 'long COVID-19', vécu le confinement comme tout le monde et l'isolation de la famille, l'impossibilité de traverser les frontières pour donner ou recevoir du confort familial, repris les cours dans une ancienne école, fait du yoga au moins autant de fois que les 'yoga pants' que j'ai achetés, appris comment enseigner à distance, coaché, soutenu, lu, écrit, parlé, regardé plus de Netflix que je n'aimerais dire, cuit mille flapjacks, fait du vélo un peu mais pas assez, commencé à écrire un livre, et joué de l'euphonium deux fois (un record).
bon, apparemment que oui, je traduis tout. bon, cette fois ci mais pas les autres fois, hein ? sinon il faudrait que j'ajoute une page 'traductions' sur le site et que je me paye pour les faire ...
un des mantras qui m'a beaucoup aidée durant cette première année d'expérience sans alcool, c'est "progress, not perfection", ou comme quoi il ne faut pas que le progrès nous empêche d'atteindre la perfection. non ! c'est l'inverse ! que l'idéal de la perfection ne nous empêche pas de faire des progrès. voilà. que même sans être parfait, on peut être / aller / faire mieux. que le voyage compte autant que la destination, et tout autre cliché que tu veux. le truc de "progress not perfection" pour moi, perfectionniste procrastinante que je suis, c'est de me forcer de faire un pas en avant. un pas vers ce que je veux, ce dont j'ai besoin, ce qui me fait peur, ce qu'il me faut. c'est le même angle que dans le coaching - regarder l'état désiré, le truc qu'on veut, et trouver la toute première toute petite encore plus petite vraiment toute minuscule première étape qu'il nous faut pour y aller, et la prendre. et pareil pour la prochaine. je n'ai pas toujours réussi à suivre mes propres conseils (oh la la quelle surprise) mais aujourd'hui ... je sais pas. il est temps. c'est bon, là. on peut y aller. alors j'avais 4 sites-web (i know, i know) en désarroi total, maintenant je n'en ai qu'un. stratégie réseaux sociaux ? ha ! y en a pas. mais je commence. premier pas, un an après les autres. si une personne me lit et me dit bonjour, c'est déjà chouette ! (vraiment là, toé, francophone que tu es ... dis moi si tu me lis, et si ça vaut la peine que j'écris en français ...) j'attends pas d'avoir les meilleurs produits et services tout beaux tout faits tout propres que tu serais fier.e de convaincre ton pote Bezos à s'y investir ... je n'attends plus la perfection, je fais des progrès !
ce blog mélangera du pro et du (vraiment) perso. ça sera pas toujours en anglais, ça sera pas toujours en français non plus ! il y aura des choses qui te parleront plus que d'autres ... la seule chose que j'ai envie de te demander, c'est que si tu participes, que tu le fais avec du coeur. que si tu laisses un commentaire, que ce soit un commentaire qui te gênerait pas si tes grands-parents le lisaient. ou tes petits-enfants. ou ton chat. ou moi. parce que moi je suis une vraie personne, moi. et toi aussi. communiquons donc comme si c'était le cas (ça l'est). coucou <3 contente de connecter avec toi, d'apprendre à te connaître comme j'apprends encore à me connaître.
(et oui, en me lisant à voix haute dans ma tête, je suis d'accord - j'ai une voix plaisamment québecoise, vu que je suis d'origine britannique vivant en france depuis 2007 ... vive le pays de l'érable !)