All the shit bits of being sober

I’ve made a big show of going sober. My past two articles have been primarily focused on how much calmer and happier I have become since I quit drinking. How many things in my life were wrong or difficult or out of control because of or made worse by alcohol, and how easy it has been to seamlessly slip into a life without it. So, to celebrate being 90 days sober, I’m going to share with you all of the times it hasn’t been easy.

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It hasn’t been easy to say no to a round of shots. In fact, I’ve…

Why I Made Sobriety A Permanent Decision

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To celebrate going 30 days without a drop of alcohol, I wrote an article coming out to the world as a sober person. I use the phrase “coming out” because, as a Queer woman, that’s what it felt like. I remember coming out as bisexual to my dad in my local Nando’s and telling my mother in passing that I had a crush on a girl “because I’m bi”, dropping it into conversations with classmates and relatives because I didn’t want to make a big deal. Oddly, announcing to the world that I have decided to permanently quit drinking felt…

TW: alcoholism, addiction, substance abuse, and reckless fuckery

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In the early hours of the morning on the 1st of January 2015, I nearly died.

I woke up on New Years’ Day in an apartment on Peel Street in Montreal, with no knowledge of where I was or how I had come to be there. I was alone, lying under my coat on a stranger’s couch, next to a trash can full my own vomit, along with a bottle of water and a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues. I scribbled a thank-you note to my mysterious saviours, stuck it to their fridge, and left. The wonderful…

I asked my friends, Romans, and countryfolk (i.e. Twitter and Instagram) to give me a “mood” as a prompt for book recommendation articles. My second request came from someone I met six years ago whilst studying on exchange at McGill University in Montreal: “trying to forget someone”. Whoever it is that you are trying to forget, my heart goes out to you. Forgetting is a feat of strength, and I have nothing but admiration for anyone who achieves it.

Notes On A Nervous Planet by Matt Haig

A follow-up to his 2015 mental health memoir, this book is for anyone whose everyday struggles are all tinged with the…

For Emily Aboud AKA Trinidad and Too Gay Though

I asked my friends, Romans, and countryfolk (i.e. Twitter and Instagram) to give me a “mood” as a prompt for book recommendation articles. My first request came from legendary Drag King Trinidad & TooGayThough, and could not be more apt: “dressing more masculine to be taken seriously.” A quandary I face on those occasions when I have an important meeting to attend, and find myself changing outfits six times before leaving the house in the first one I put on.

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The Confessions of Frannie Langton by Sara Collins

This is my current read! I’m about halfway through listening to the audiobook on BorrowBox app (connect with your library…

A manifesto for the advancement of online LGBTQ+ communities

I was recently added to a social media collective now known as “Budget Queer Big Brother” (a name I came up with upon realising that half our Zoom calls involved us going about our daily lives on camera to each other). In my first week of daily Zoom and WhatsApp conversations with this group, I asked if I could join their “Hype House”. Extremely inebriated, one of the “OG”s told me that I must write 1,250 word essay as an application. …

On death and dying

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy © Cartoon Network

I don’t believe it’s possible for anyone to be an expert on death.

Ask a physician about death, and they may give you a response based in medical science or religion, depending on their own beliefs and experiences, or they may tell you it is simply a part of their job. When I was in my first year of university, I lived with two medical students. One day, they came home and told us what they had just learned about death: that the average medical doctor will kill 50 patients over the course of their career as a direct result…

On Parenting

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“Heel, toe. Heel, toe.”

My mother walks in step with her grandson in the early afternoon heat, his tiny fist clenched around her index finger. He shuffles beside her, scuffing his little orange sandals against the pavement.

“Heel, toe,” she tells him. “Heel, toe.”

She demonstrates with an over exaggerated step, ensuring that her heel hits the ground far before she rolls forward on her toes to take her next step. Her feet fall silently on the hot tarmac — heel, toe, heel toe. …

No Matter How Busy You Are

The Good Immigrant by Nikesh Shukla — a canyon in Utah (just in case we got lost during the hike and had to wait to be rescued)

When I have a morning meeting or rehearsal in town, and an evening shift at my bar job, with a few hours to kill in between, I will spend that time reading. I live in Zone 5, so there’s never any point in going home, and there are many wonderful reading spots I have scouted out over many years of living in London. One of my favourites is the bar where I work, which tends to be pretty dead in those middling hours between pints-at-lunch and the after-work crowd. It’s quiet, the coffee is free, and there are always at…

On being Jewish at Christmas

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

When I was eighteen years old, I celebrated Christmas for the first time. I was at university, and my flatmates organised a Christmas meal at the beginning of December before the end of the semester. We cooked an enormous feast complete with turkey, trimmings, cranberry sauce and pigs-in-blankets, decorated the kitchen with tinsel and fairy lights, and even got a little tree to put our Secret Santa presents under. From the time I woke up that morning, I was full of beans. I bounced around the kitchen with the excitable energy of – well, of a kid on Christmas morning…

Kayla Martell Feldman

Anglo-American atheist Jew. Director & writer for stage & screen. Book person, intersectional feminist, poet. Living with OCD. Not an Expert. she/her

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