Mind-Jazz

Well, been absent from here for a few days as not much to report.  I think this is to be expected as this journey starts to get monotonous in places - kinda like a drive across countryside and currently there's nothing much to look at apart from bushes, fields, and the occasional quizzical sheep.

Been quite grumpy of late - goes to show that being sober doesn't necessarily fix all my rubbish personality traits.  After all, I'm stubborn, contrary, surly, self-absorbed, spoilt, misanthropic, negative, grumpy, stroppy etc. etc.  And although I reckon I'm pretty much a better person to be around when I'm dry, these lovely aspects of my me-ness still can't help but rear their pug-ugly noggins from time-to-time.

Another one of my dozy-arsed traits that has been bubbling over is introspection - this can be both positive and negative for me - however, ultimately it means I tend to spout pseudo-intellectual bullshit.  So not to disappoint, here comes an excerpt from my current poncy noodling (I remember once some posh hippy kid at a party in Chorlton referred to such a thing as 'mind-jazz' - tit!):

Every now and then there are times when the notion of parallel universes becomes more stark for me. That is, those universes that are born out of decisions (where you choose one path that leads to one universe; and where the other non-travelled path spawns a what-could-have-been universe, and so on and so on and so on...).  Removing booze from my life is making me think of those what-could-have-been universes.  How bad, good, or indifferent those universes are; how things you can't have in this universe, you can have in another, and vice versa...  How future choices may be either ultimately dangerous and destructive, or wonderful and life-affirming.  And try throwing Fate into that mix...  No, actually, on second thoughts, don't do that!

I think that's enough mind-jazz for now...

Liquid Lunch and Wilful Words

I went and did it.  Back in the pub for my lunch yesterday.  I felt it was time.

That time was for a challenge.  I had a pint of lime & lemonade and there was never any doubt that I'd be tempted by a pint of beer.  It was in the same lunchtime pub where I would put away 3-5 pints (in fact, it was the boozer whose porch I so elegantly regurgitated on one early afternoon not so long ago...); but it was completely fine.  The one thing I didn't feel so fine about, however, was the bleeding price: £2.40.  Yes, you heard right, two pounds fucking forty!  And you wonder why there are so many bloody alcoholics around!  I ask you!!!

Speaking of said alkies - went to the city centre meeting this lunch and what a curious one!  We were all squeezed into a different room this time (40 or so alcoholics, only 30 or so chairs), and this maybe had an effect on the folks, as not everyone was so eager to share as they usually do (they're normally falling all over each other to share a bit!)..  Granted, we got Mr ManU and his tales of braising steak in slow cookers; 'One of the lads, me' Bob and his stories of being hard in Salford; and Paddy with debauched tales from the catering industry -  we generally get a version of the same story every week with these chaps.  However, in all seriousness, I'm not going to take anything away from them - they're longtime sober, and have turned their lives around.  And regardless of how self-absorbed I sometimes feel they are (and, in fairness, that's me just being a grumpy twat - but, I suppose, who says I have to nod and agree earnestly with everyone who shares), they want to help themselves and others.  So fairplay to them!

Anyway, I shared this week too.  As I may have mentioned in an earlier post, I was going to say something about the steps, and about not getting them etc. Well, seems it didn't work out that way.  Yeah, "I'm [me] and I'm an alcoholic" was exactly how I intended to start, and start that way I did.  But from that point on, it looks as though my words had another plan - they tumbled out as if they had a life of their own.  As I spoke, I could feel myself getting red, but it appears I was articulate and sentient (I think).  I won't go into what order those words lined up in, but I'm pleased with the way they did - plus I got a few laughs too.  So nice one, me - although, is it possible to take credit for words that seem to manifest themselves independently of any input from me?! However, this time, despite this strange incident of possession, I got the feeling my fellow alkies didn't think I was too much of a tit. Well, not that much anyway... 

The Witch is Dead!!!

Staying sober involves being mindful of your booze triggers - and, by crikey, my biggest was work.  And, in particular, my boss (let's call her Sheila for the sake of this blog)!  This woman has been the bane of my existence - I've never known such a person to be so contrary and so intrinsically argumentative.  She's exactly the sort of person that would insist an apple was an orange.  It got to the point that I would, where I could, avoid interaction with the woman.  Conversations with her just left you with this knot in your stomach, that could may even be described as abject hatred (don't beat around the bush, guv - Ed)!

Well, dealing with this incessant Chinese water-torture (where, in cases, that dripping water was more like the bleeding Niagara Falls!) needed some form of defence.  And, surprise surprise, that defence was booze.  Three to four pints at lunch time made the afternoon more bearable.  Getting home, feeling up-tight, had a 'bad day' at work: bring on 3 litres of strong cider!  For those ultimately brief periods I'd be a little numb to the (perceived) misery of work!

However, the next morning I would be low.  Seriously low.  Sheila heaps on more shite; how do I fix it?  More drink, of course.  And so it goes!  I now know that I was drinking because I believed work to be unbearable.  However, and here's the rub, without the drink work is more than bearable (in fact, right now, I'm full of shiny optimism - for reasons I'll go into in a sec)!  And because work is bearable, and because I feel darn the opposite of low, Sheila is more bearable; ergo, I don't need to drink.  And so that goes...!

But get a load of this!  Not only is my daily work life manageable and nigh-on satisfying; I find out that Sheila has been granted voluntary severance!  She's leaving at Christmas!!  For the other side of the world!!!  Jesus, all my Christmases have really come along like buses!!!!  When she told us the news, I nearly exploded with joy - it felt like someone had just told me that Margaret Thatcher had snuffed it! That's how glorious this news is.  And, just to add icing to this marvellous Godsend of a cake, the woman taking over is rather sweet and lovely (and may even be, dare I say it, a pushover - and pushovers can be manipulated [cue evil genius excessive laugh]) - so things just get better and better.

If ditching that malevolent fiend that is alcohol results in such wonderful events occurring, I may even start doing the National Lottery again..!

Pepsi Facts?

I'm starting to have doubts about the AA meetings - well, not doubts about AA in itself, but in particular, going with Pepsi to the meetings in the week. Don't get me wrong, I really like her. I like spending time with her. It's just that I feel that the fact that her personality is uncannily like mine at times may make things lose their objectivity (if you can ever get such a thing once you start on this 'journey').  I mean that, by reacting to a situation in exactly the same (or even in a similar) way, means that you don't get a different take or perspective on things.  Could these things hinder her recovery and also jeopardize mine?

Jeez, does this sound selfish? She has really helped me by giving me advice, taking me to the meetings etc.. (I mentioned in a previous post that a chat with her really made me come to terms with the fact that I'm an alcoholic - so I'll always be grateful to her for that); but I'm starting to learn that to beat this disease you have to be selfish.  You have to remind yourself that you are doing this first and foremost for yourself and no-one else.  Granted, the welfare of those closest and who you love the most is immeasurably important (L & M, stand up!), but you ultimately stay sober for you! 

But it's difficult to be selfish (oh, I'm such a good person, aren't I?) - I know that Pepsi's self-esteem can get affected negatively sometimes, and by saying I don't want to go to the meetings with her may put her on downer; and I'd feel part-way responsible for that.  I really don't want to do that...

...and smells of curry?

Well, it's a fortnight without the demon-drink and gotta say I feel great!  Just can't help thinking this is all too easy - but I suppose why does it have to get more difficult???

Mind you, went for a curry with the missus and daughter (L & M) and although was okay not drinking (first sit-in curry I've had for as long as I can remember without 3 or 4 pints), there was a faint sense of weirdness & uneasiness - probably because it wasn't the norm of the past...  Speaking of such, I always used to suggest going for a sit-in curry on a Sunday so that I could squeeze in those extra pints of booze.  Chances are I'd been drinking since midday (especially with football on), and the curry was always secondary to the pints (a take-away would be no good as I would be finishing off the drink I had in the fridge).  Anyway, not anymore!

Another thing I'd always do at weekends is have to sit and drink whilst watching a film - the wine glass or pint of cider would always be in my hand throughout, and would never run dry when a film was on.  This weekend I watched two films each on Saturday and Sunday without a drop; and guess what?  I can remember how they all ended!  There've been so many times when I've thought "Yeah, I enjoyed that" - but, for the life of me, had no idea what happened in the end.  Mind you, with some films, that's a blessing.

So, another week ahead.  Gonna go to a new meeting tomorrow in a place that Everybody Knows is Nowhere - and, based on the location, chances are it should house some peculiarities and curios! You merely have to pay the post-office a visit in this place to get a nice cross-section of it's denizens. I'll look forward to reporting back...

Faltered Steps

Although I believe I get tons of benefit from AA (just listening to the 'shares' just gives you such a lift and an energy that I've never experienced before - it's almost like you could sit there with earplugs in; not hear a single word that someone says; and still leave feeling that energy), but I just don't get 'the 12 Steps' or 'the Programme'.

I've heard so many people say that they felt the same about this at the beginning, and now couldn't live without them; but, for some reason, I just feel that won't come to me.

At the meeting in Town yesterday, a guy was sharing about the simplicity of the Steps, and how his Sponsor taught him, and how he's taught the people he has sponsored.  I wanted to say something in response to this - with the aim to get some advice; but this bloody group in particular are queuing up to get their story out.  Honestly, you can't get a word in edgeways with this lot (blummin' alcoholics are a right arrogant self-obsessed lot, believe me!) - next thing you know it was time to get back to work, and I'd not managed to do my 'share'.  Well, anyway, I'm hoping that this guy is there again next week; as I'm gonna say my piece early on.

Talking of this guy (incidentally, he shares my first name) - there's something about what he says and how he says it that makes me feel he's a very decent soul.  My friend who takes me to meetings (in fact, I'll call her 'Pepsi' from now on - it's not her real name, but the name sure does fit!) has been saying she really needs a Sponsor (if you don't know, a Sponsor is a member of the AA Fellowship that agrees to be your kind of mentor; be on hand in dark times; give advice and assistance - pass on the 'message' and help you stay sober).  This is another thing I don't quite 'get'.  Right now, I feel I don't need one.  But, maybe, there may come a point when I do.  Of anyone I've met at AA so far, this guy at the meeting yesterday could perhaps fit that bill...

Flat Share

The meeting last night was okay - although it just seemed a little flatter than the week before.  I suppose this is to be expected from a bunch of alcoholics in a room together - we're reet moody bastards!

There was a new chap there last night and he got lavished with attention!  I didn't get that!!  What makes him so bloody special?!  Everyone was addressing him, wishing him luck, draping him with advice and empathy.  The bugger!  I didn't like him as result - totally unfair I know, but hey, you can't like everyone, can ye?

You'll be pleased to know I kept my mouth shut; and the only mint I got offered (and accepted) was from my friend who goes to the meetings with me.  Not decided yet whether to go to the City Centre meeting today yet - I'll see how I feel in an hour or two...

I had a dream...

I'm definitely moving into that different phase, where I'm coming to terms with the idea that this is a long-haul journey.  I'm wary of saying I'll never drink again; as that is almost an unlucky thing to say - tempting fate as it were.  I have to stick to my one-day-at-a-time mantra, and that way I feel I won't break my momentum.

I've had a number of dreams of late, not surprisingly about booze.  The one that stood out is as follows:

I'm in a pub, drinking a pint of indistinguishable booze - a kind of lager/bitter hybrid.  It tastes of nothing. I have no feelings about the drink or me drinking it.  Total ambivalence.  Apathy.  Someone (don't know who - can't see the face or hear the voice) offers to buy me another pint.  I agree without thinking.  Then the pint arrives...

I am horrified.  Repulsed by it.  It looks exactly like the one I'm drinking and yet it fills me with dread and horror (and I really mean that - no exaggeration)!  I insist that it is taken away from me - I don't want anything to do with it.       

What does this mean? Not all dreams mean something, do they?  Yet I can't help but thinking that the pint I'm drinking is what I'm leaving behind - and actually I have no thoughts about it.  I don't care much for it either way.  Does that demonstrate acceptance of letting it go?  And the new pint - the one that I want out of my site - is my future.  A future without the pint.  Without the booze.

Russell bloody Grant eat ye heart out!

Blob of Blue

I know that I'm currently in the honeymoon period - things seem too easy to be true!  That's why the inherent pessimist in me is starting to emerge.  I feel like a storm is brewing - like on a lovely day when the wind picks up and the trees start swaying a little more than they have been.  It's pretty far away but I'm certain I can feel it.  I'm convinced that things are about to get a lot harder (and with Christmas imminent there's definitely no way they're gonna get easier, let's face it).

I suppose the only thing I can do is batten down the hatches and either hope that the storm misses me or the melancholy weatherman has got it completely wrong!

Sunday Service

A Rock 'n' Roll day for me yesterday. Up early(ish). Walked the dog. Took my daughter swimming. Read the paper. Cooked tea. Watched Antiques Roadshow. In bed at 9pm. Asleep half an hour later...

I'll be watching Songs of Praise and going to bloody church next!

Dry Thirsts!

Apart from the obvious, I've managed two firsts this week.

Firstly, I watched my first Manchester Derby of my adult life stone-cold sober - mind you, hardly any need for some kind of sedative as the game was enough to send an insomniac into a log-like slumber (and it seems my City boys carried on where they left off, with an equally dour performance against Birmingham yesterday)!

Secondly, I went for a meal with my folks (a place we've been many times before) where I would normally put away three or four pints.  This time, I washed down two glasses of lime & lemonade!  And do you know what, I didn't even think about booze.  I saw pints going out to other tables, and not once did I feel a pang of jealousy or envy.

I'm not gonna be complacent, as I know things are probably relatively easy at this very early stage of 'my journey'; but I reckon I can give meself a little pat on the back at least...

Keep Schtumm?!

Well,  I summoned up the courage and went to a meeting on my own.  I'd heard that the daytime City Centre meetings can be a little, shall we say, curious.  Tales of a mixture of 'suits' and rough-arse street-drinkers.  The smell of Blood & Urine mingled with Dolce & Gabbana aftershave. So I went with a little bit of trepidation.

No need. It was absolutely nothing like the circus I was expecting.  I was welcomed warmly by, yeah, a pretty diverse bunch; but hardly an out-of-the-ordinary crowd.  Again a whole new range of thought-provoking stories were shared.  The difference this time was that I said a bit. And to be honest, I wish I hadn't..!

Virtually everyone in the room had 'shared'; and right at the end, the main guy asked did I want to say something.  The trouble is, since I opened my cakehole, I've completely over-analysed what blathered out!  I believe the problem is that I'd over-rehearsed what I would say in my head, thus it probably sounded insincere and garbled. I'm sure they thought I was a pompous tit (I made the mistake of telling the 'mint' story, and that came out all ruddy wrong - wish I hadn't).

I've decided it will be a while before I pipe-up again.  From now on, I listen and I learn...

Mint?

I attended another meeting last night; and this one was totally unlike the one on Tuesday.  Firstly there was about 5 times more people there - it was packed!  And what a diverse bunch - from the journeyman, well-seasoned yet sober alcoholic; to the rum scally in a stripy blue jumper; to the thigh-length booted yet toothless mother of 6!  Quite a mix.  Anyway, it was really good. I heard really hard tales and I heard some really funny, life-affirming stuff - again a totally diverse range.   The main thing was that the sense of welcoming and safety was tangible...

But amongst all this, something really stood out to me.  Sat next to me was a girl of about 20 - and fitted a particular stereotype that could be defined by such things as a spray-on tan, hooped earrings, face full of make-up applied by Zippy from Rainbow... you get the picture. Conversely, she normally would probably look at me and think look at that pompous hairy weirdo!  With his daft gay scarf and silly hair!  The point is, we are not the kinds of people who would interract (and both of us are normally perfectly happy that this is the case). 

Well, this girl, after about half an hour, offered me a mint...  She offered me a mint. It seems like nothing, nothing at all, but it stood out by a country-mile.  [Warning: getting all earnest again] Just goes to show, that the one thing we have in common, makes all the difference.  Starting to get a sense that this is what AA is all about...

Square

Do you know what scares me the most about this whole process?  That I'm gonna become a right boring fuck!  "Ooh, I don't drink."  "Ooh, don't you think you've had enough."  I'm afraid that my whole sense of humour will disappear and fail!  It's just the notion that I'll become someone else entirely.

All my idols are boozers.  Peter Cook, Keith Flloyd, Jack Kerouac, Dean Martin, Ernest Hemmingway - the list goes on.  They're all emminently great drinkers and they're all seriously COOL!   God, I mean, Tonight's the Night is my utterly faviourite Neil Young album - and they all recorded that, seriously pissed out of their heads at about 2 in the morning!

Booze has defined me for so long - it's been so integral to my personality.  People find tales of boozy debauchery funny; and they ARE funny.  Even to the person telling the story, who went through a personal hell at the time: "Yeah, and I woke up in the morning and I'd shat meself!"  Ho fucking ho!  Last week, I was suffering withdrawal so badly (I had put away over three bottles of wine on the Monday and was still suffering Wednesday) that I had to get myself to the pub at lunch (it was either that or check myself in to A&E; and, ironically, it was easier to get away with going to the pub for two hours than it would've been spending an afternoon away from work in hospital!).  In 20 minutes I'd had two pints of San Miguel.  After about an hour and half I'd had five.


What's the point of this?  Well, as I was leaving (this was about 1.30 in the afternoon) I threw-up directly outside the pub on my way back to work!  I've done worse, and have had what could be considered lower points (generally at a more 'acceptable' hour), but this felt pretty grim!  Anyway, when I got back from work, the alcohol had obviously loosened my tongue (as well as my intestinal tract) and I decided to tell everyone about my lunchtime up-chucking.  Everyone thought it was HILARIOUS!  And there you go - that's the problem.

So, I suppose I may end up square; probably a small price to pay to get my life back (...look! see!  I'm turning all bloody serious and earnest... Aaaarrrrggghhh!).

From hereon in

I don't want go into detail as to how I got to this point - maybe the odd reference, allusion, comment here and there - but this is where I am. An alcoholic. And to really seal the deal, I went along to my first AA meeting last night.

Firstly, I have reservations about AA. It strikes me as deeply spiritual (though not explicitly religious - although it does have 'The Big Book' - the AA bible!), and has many elements that remind me of such things as the Illuminati & Scientology. Plus the meetings can seem ritualistic: The famous, "I'm [insert name here] and I'm an alcoholic", with everyone replying in unison "Hello [insert name here]!" It was kinda interesting what these people had to say.  In fact, some of the people were clearly frustrated stand-up comics (with differing success) and loved the attention.  Not everything hit home; but, yeah, some things did.  Maybe I was expecting to be en-rapt and moved; to have some sort of epiphany - but that's not what happened.  

The reason I went to AA (apart from the obvious), is that one of my very good friends has a friend who has been there. I met her once before and I could sense she had a very similar personality. I went to see her last week and I have to say, this meeting was integral to me admitting to the truth. She's taking me to the meetings with her for now (it suits her as much as it suits me, as it means she gets back in 'the rooms', as they call them).  There's no doubt that it works for her; but I need to see more before I can make up my mind.

Although, I think the one thing that has stood out to me so far; is that, as each day comes, the job at hand is just avoid taking that first drink. Don't think about tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. Just today...

...and that's what I'll try to do.

First Share

I think that for all of my adult life, I knew I would become an alcoholic. The way really driven young-adults know that they will be lawyers, doctors, rocket-scientists - well, I knew I'd end up here. Success is mine! Ha!

I'll be honest, I've only very recently admitted to myself and others that I am an alcoholic (I'm talking a week). I've always been a heavy-drinker ("that [me] likes to take a drink"; "Jeez, he can put it away"). But, gradually, like a frog in a pan of water that is being heated, before I knew it I was boiling to death!

I had been seeing a counsellor, admitting to myself that I was maybe a dependent drinker (as I was drinking on average about 28 units a day - that's a day not a week). But I was under the belief I could pare back and control my drinking; become a 'social drinker'. Well now I know there's no chance of that - and admitting this has been a massive weight off my shoulders.

I'm doing this for me, but also for my wonderful wife & daughter; for our families; and for my friends that truly matter (think I'll know who they are soon enough!). I don't pretend it will be easy; in fact I'm pretty certain it will be a whole bowl of hell (Christmas coming up and all that) - but, all I can do is try. One day at a time - a cliché, I know; but it's a cliché for a reason...