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AdeinEngland 
2:57am, July 15, 2009
i suppose it will come as little shock to a lot of people that adjusting to sobriety after years of abuse is... hmmm... how do i put this?
a test of character?
character-building?
challenging?
boring?
sensible?
Like so many other activities that breed those adjectives, sobriety bores me to the f***ing eyeballs. I'm not intentionally trying to disrespect anything about sobriety, quitting or AA or indeed anyONE that's trying to get and stay clean. I'm actually trying to offer a little empathy to those of us out there that are no doubt feeling just as bored and increasingly depressed and disillusioned with the way the world actually is sans-toxins.
I struggle to think of something that's both character building and sensible that's actually fun. Seriously. When i was about 11 i started doing a paper-round and as well as it being sensible (making money) and character building ( i was going to put an example in brackets here but again i'm struggling) - of all the things it WAS, it was definitely NOT fun.
So accepting that the orchestra of bashing cymbals that greets so many of life's surprises would probably take a day off when i say "Being sober is boring me to tears", i sit... and i sigh.
In the first couple of weeks of giving up alcohol you have the novelty of being booze free to fuel yourself on. The idea of staying in, watching a movie and eating pizza still seems fresh and new. Mostly because it's 100% fresh and new. But also because like anything that you just started doing - you havent got bored of it yet. Whether thats a new woman, a new man, a new job, a new CD - you're still into it and thats that. Inevitably though, as the guys in the impotence support group will tell you, what goes up, must come down. And stay down.
Slowly over the last couple of weeks i've run out of excuses to NOT be out with friends getting hammered, and they're starting to ask questions, the guys at work are getting just as bored with saying "so you still haven't touched a drop?" as i am answering it with "nope... no i haven't". Our version of cableTV (Sky) has a desire to show only DieHard movies on rotation. A desire that i match equally passionately by avoiding them. Don't get me wrong - i love Bruce Willis. I even love the bad guys in it. But there's only so many times I, as a 28 year old englishman, sat alone, eating cold pizza with a geeky laptop on a coffee table, can feel cool mouthing along "Yippee Ky-yay motherfu..."
(And by 'so many' times i actually mean about two)
As the excuses get more and more ridiculous....
"Your BIRTHDAY!? Oh why didn't you say and i never would've booked MJ Tickets!?"
"You just bought MJ tickets?"
"Yeah."
"But he's dead."
"Your BIRTHDAY!? Oh why didn't you say and i never would've booked Madonna Tickets!?"
"Hmmmmm"
And as the things to do at home become all the more depressing....
"Hmmmm i haven't cleaned the oven for a while. I wonder if i can do that AND the bathroom before Celebrity Brain Surgeon starts"
That would be a wicked idea for a reality show, wouldn't it? I can just see the trailer now:-
"Celebrities. They think they're SO smart, don't they? Well we'll find out just how smart they are when we take your ten favourite stars and give them five weeks to learn COMPLEX BRAIN SURGERY!!! This week: Watch in awe as ex-basketball player Jamal Brown successfully reattaches the spinal nurons of an unconcious priest! And hate it or love it - 50 cent is going to remove this golf-ball sized tumor from a former hustler he knew on the street."
50: See the thing is. Homie gotta get back out to work. Sell his $hit. He aint gonna make no money layin out here with this $hit in his brain. Gotta take the $hit OUTTA his brain. So he can go out there and put HIS $hit into other peoples brains. Its a circle of life, for real. Can't f*ck with it. It's nature. And this is like i'm givin something back on a personal level, this aint no commercial $hit, this is me givin somethin personal ba... album drops 24th, holla."
So anyway - i digress. Again.
The boredom that comes with this sobriety will hopefully wear off. I'm sure that at the moment all it really comes down to is my brain needing to get bored with worrying about the idea of me missing out on SOMETHING going on out there, somewhere. It's a bit like when you first hook up with someone new. Maybe they're not into getting hammered the whole time so you toned it down, and for a while u felt like you were missing out or that you wanted to go out and see your friends more and then slowly you got used to the new rota.
Or a more depressing example - when you hook up with someone new and wanted to spend every waking moment banging away with them. Sooner or later that becomes less of a big deal and you enjoy the little things, sharing experiences with eachother and changing lifestyle patterns. What started as wanting to bang away every 5 minutes morphs into wanting to know them deeper and enjoying that too.
The trouble with that is - in a relationship you stand everything to gain from getting to know the person deeper and sharing new experiences. With sobriety, as the excuses run low, and the friends get less and less patient with you 'not making the effort' - you stand to lose mates (and YES they are real mates - who WOULDN'T get fed up if everytime they asked you to come out, u said u were busy), you lose excitement and the prospect of meeting anyone new (a truly frightening prospect when you're not aesthetically blessed anyway and struggle to 'pull' at the best of (drunk) times). And when you work in an environment/industry where so much is based on (boozy) relationships.
In fact what it feels like you're left with is a carbon copy of what you used to be, except the toner ran low and because *I* am the office bitch it's like i was the retarded idiot that forgot to order the new cartridge! I'm sat like "I'm retarded and sober. DAMN i used to just be retarded!?"
I'm hoping that my friends can hang in there while i develop a stronger 'self' where i can still go out and just hang with them sober but the tight, money-concious me dispells this by offering a "So you get to go out... be sober... AND spend the same amount on soft-drinks? Wow where do i SIGN!!!!".
Throw in an eye-watering kick in the te$ticles and you've got christmas!
I'm not sure what i'm saying - just maybe that as i get bored of the novelty of being sober and waking afresh on a saturday and sunday, i'm concerned that this is as good as it's gona get and that the most i can hope for is to live a sober, clear-headed, less fun version of my former life. Of course it could just be that whole 'mourning' phase where i'm still coming to terms with the loss of that era. As though my addict-brain is attempting to get me down, push me back towards the booze and this is the first step of doing that. Who knows. But it feels good to write about it. Not AS good as going out and getting wasted, sleeping with chicks when we're both drunk or laughing my ar$e off in a pub - but almost.
And it's taken me about an hour to type this so if i can just multiply it by five and do it on a night out, maybe i'll have conquered the problem.
I suppose sober or drunk my brain could be in a lot worse states. I could be holding a £2,000 backstage pass for MJ dates while bored out of my mind at a f***ing Madonna concert.
Comments
On Monday morning i made a joke with someone at work about how when you give up smoking, your body rewards you with illness and you get a hacky cough, you feel like $hit and generally sound about as healthy as a 60 year old that made some bad decisions.
So while i was sat, basically being as smug as i could be without physically deforming my face (with one eyebrow up, Roger Moore style) - little did i know but my body was about to bequeth a little surprise for me before it bowed out for a week.
Right on cue, i started coughing, i started sneezing - on a couple of occasions the cough didnt want to be upstaged by the sneeze and a "snoughed". For anyone thats ever done this it sounds ridiculous and because you're breathing in just before you cough, but breathing out rapidly from the sneeze - YOU BURP.
"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrp"
"Ade, you are not in your living room anymore, you are in the office!"
"You should really moonlight as a SatNav."
After approximately 8 hours of work, which is 480 minutes and roughly 1,926 coughs - i made my way home and i swear the closer i got, the more comfortable my body was in shutting down. I felt like an Aids sufferer circa-1985 fulfilling his bumming-quota - every pitstop another organ shuts down. Like when i got to the train station from work my eyes went watery and would barely stay open. When i got off at my stop my bones started acheing. By the time i got to my door my arms had fallen off and i could've sworn i heard my hips go "Won't be needing these anymore" and my legs flew off.
Now having watched quite a lot of overhyped, massively conservative, overblown, panic-mongering news shows - we'll call them Fox Bullatins (or Sky here in London), i became a tad concerned that even though i had no fever or loss of appetite, the cough, sneezing, snoughing, achey bones and very serious relentless, acute hypochondria all pointed squarely towards this Swine Flu business. So i got myself into a right panic, left work early on Tuesday and stayed at home the rest of the week. But i cant help thinking that maybe my body was weakened by its dependency on booze before hand - and not getting that - its become more succeptible to a cold/cough etc.
Or maybe this is fate coming in saying "Hey buddy! if you're sick then you can't go out!" - how many times have people been ill and consequently not smoked for 2 days or so? So when i'm iLL i guess it's understandable that i wouldn't fancy a drink.
Although, thinking of it now has anyone else ever been knees deep in alcoholism where they can feel a bout of sickness coming on and conciously think "Well if i'm gona feel like $hit tomorrow, i may as well have a good night behind it. Onward!"
So here i am sat updating my blog/posting a topic looking for empathy, coughing my guts up and generally looking like my immune system is a bit of velcro and every illness known to man are respective bits of cotton wool thrown on me as i sprint through a South London hospital.
I've tried absolutely EVERYTHING... i've gotten rest... ive drunk lots of fluids... ive taken paracetomol but nothing, NOTHING...
...can help me to regain my Roger Moore smug eyebrow look.
If someone could help me with that, i'd be eternally grateful. I've noticed its the one topic that doesn't appear to have a separate mourning/grief/loss thread for me to join.
Answers on a post-card.
Ade
So while i was sat, basically being as smug as i could be without physically deforming my face (with one eyebrow up, Roger Moore style) - little did i know but my body was about to bequeth a little surprise for me before it bowed out for a week.
Right on cue, i started coughing, i started sneezing - on a couple of occasions the cough didnt want to be upstaged by the sneeze and a "snoughed". For anyone thats ever done this it sounds ridiculous and because you're breathing in just before you cough, but breathing out rapidly from the sneeze - YOU BURP.
"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrp"
"Ade, you are not in your living room anymore, you are in the office!"
"You should really moonlight as a SatNav."
After approximately 8 hours of work, which is 480 minutes and roughly 1,926 coughs - i made my way home and i swear the closer i got, the more comfortable my body was in shutting down. I felt like an Aids sufferer circa-1985 fulfilling his bumming-quota - every pitstop another organ shuts down. Like when i got to the train station from work my eyes went watery and would barely stay open. When i got off at my stop my bones started acheing. By the time i got to my door my arms had fallen off and i could've sworn i heard my hips go "Won't be needing these anymore" and my legs flew off.
Now having watched quite a lot of overhyped, massively conservative, overblown, panic-mongering news shows - we'll call them Fox Bullatins (or Sky here in London), i became a tad concerned that even though i had no fever or loss of appetite, the cough, sneezing, snoughing, achey bones and very serious relentless, acute hypochondria all pointed squarely towards this Swine Flu business. So i got myself into a right panic, left work early on Tuesday and stayed at home the rest of the week. But i cant help thinking that maybe my body was weakened by its dependency on booze before hand - and not getting that - its become more succeptible to a cold/cough etc.
Or maybe this is fate coming in saying "Hey buddy! if you're sick then you can't go out!" - how many times have people been ill and consequently not smoked for 2 days or so? So when i'm iLL i guess it's understandable that i wouldn't fancy a drink.
Although, thinking of it now has anyone else ever been knees deep in alcoholism where they can feel a bout of sickness coming on and conciously think "Well if i'm gona feel like $hit tomorrow, i may as well have a good night behind it. Onward!"
So here i am sat updating my blog/posting a topic looking for empathy, coughing my guts up and generally looking like my immune system is a bit of velcro and every illness known to man are respective bits of cotton wool thrown on me as i sprint through a South London hospital.
I've tried absolutely EVERYTHING... i've gotten rest... ive drunk lots of fluids... ive taken paracetomol but nothing, NOTHING...
...can help me to regain my Roger Moore smug eyebrow look.
If someone could help me with that, i'd be eternally grateful. I've noticed its the one topic that doesn't appear to have a separate mourning/grief/loss thread for me to join.
Answers on a post-card.
Ade
Comments
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Have you tried fasting? I know that sounds so un fun but when you are sick the body needs to repair itself and if it has to digest food constantly then that is hampered. It is hard to do, and you will be really hungry the 1st day or two. But if you drink lots of water or even drink fresh raw juice only your body won't have to work so hard to repair itself and after 3 days you will feel awesome. If you arent likely to give that a go, lemon really helps to cut mucus and raw garlic. I would obviously do more research online but it works for me :)
I have no real frame of reference for this, but for me personally, in the first two weeks of sobriety, i've had to keep a watch on myself....
...Not in terms of temptation of going back to booze but just literally a watch on mySELF. There are various personas that can come out with bashing cymbals if i'm not too careful, the alcoholic being just one of them. I thought i'd jot a few down just in case anyone else had come across these characters.
The Thumb Nose
It's been 13 days since i last touched a drop of alcohol, which when compared with evolution, the big bang and a few other little Godly passtimes - really isn't that long. Dont let that fool you into thinking that i can treat it like JUST long enough to turn my nose up at friends that are going out on the Friday night as though i'm somehow above it.
"You gonna come out for some beers on friday, Ade?"
"You guys are STILL doing that? Jesus..."
"Well you were passed out with your f*cking shorts round your ankles 4 weeks ago?"
It's ridiculous really. I suppose it's the ego taking control and trying to make me look and feel like i'm not missing out, like it's some kind of f*cked up choice i've made to not be able to handle substances and thus not get to see so much of my friends with they all head out.
The Infuriatingly Chirpy Sundayer
Having been to quite a few parties and having been to quite a few REAL parties in my time i'm well aware of how i probably come across when i venture out of my room on a Sunday morning, the only person in the flat that doesn't look like he caught Ebola, Swine Flu and Ecoli last night. Differences are differences you might think. And that in the West these days (with the exception of some red-states) we're largely open-minded and accepting of these. But white-hoods and N-words still safely in the bin, you'd be forgiven for thinking not when my flatmates and their friends are lazed out in the front room watching Friends re-runs, exhaling like their trying to perform a cross-lounge kiss-of-life to eachother, or single handedly trying to heat up the planet. But in i come, a ray of sunshine. A sunray that goes through a window and makes you uncomfortable, start squinting and just want it to pi$$ off - but a ray of sunshine never the less.
"Tea anyone? Coffee? Anyone fancy a trip to the Portrait Gallary in a bit?"
"Shhhh keep it down, it's only... ....Jesus is it half-2 already?"
"So thats a no to coffee then - toast? no? gallary? anyone?"
By the look on their faces you'd think i had just walked in, pulled out a knife and severed a puppies head.
And then kicked it.
As you're probably aware - when you're feeling ok, and someone else walks in the room and cracks jokes, busts out the smiles and seems in a good mood - your mood will lighten too. If you're not aware of this and you continue to be in a bad mood you should probably check a different 'topic-thread' than this next time. It sounds like you've got depression.
But if someones in a bad mood, the last f**king thing they want to see, hear, even know about is someone else being in a good mood. How many times have you been rushed off your feet, trying to get home on the bus or train. Stressed, tired, b*tchy mood and then you hear someone on their mobile phone behind you laughing and joking...
"ha ha ha - so then i said no thats MY hairband! this is yours! ha ha ha"
You actually want to kill them.
So here i am torn between my desire to remain sober, and chirpy. Versus my desire to remain alive, and breathing. Funny, it's not a dilemma i expected to face in the first 13 days, just being honest. I mean, if i wander into the front room next weekend, bouncing off the walls and vomiting sunshine, only to get a bullet through my f*ckin head - will St Peter be open to discussion?
"Pete - i gotta be straight with you here. I wanted to get sober. I wanted to be happy. And someone shot me in the face."
"Okay."
"So i was wondering if you could just overlook it. Shouldn't be hard from up here. You can't see a bloody thing but clouds."
"Overlook it? I'm sorry i can't do tha..."
"But i just wanted to get sober!"
"Yes. Well you're sober now?"
"I'M DEAD!"
"But you're sober?"
"Yeah, it's not quite sobriety as i'd hoped."
The Lonely Pretentious Idiot
As i sit in my room, relacing my shoes, catching up on washing, writing journals and then moving back onto music i'd abandoned for years i notice i'm getting more and more pretentious. (No, kidding - i'm sat here writing an article on the facets of my own personality. Go figure.)
The Skizophrenic
As i leave a bar on Friday night, a litle depressed that a date didn't go as well as i had previously envisaged it might...
"So you have a girlfriend, Ade?"
"No... no i'm single"
"Ah okay. Good."
"And you? You're single too?"
"No i have a boyfriend. He's coming back from South America next week."
**ade spits his OJ out and animatedly answers his phone**
"YES this is Ade. Why i'd love to come and pick you up from hospital, Mum. Sorry i have to go..."
So as i'm going home i'm understandably down and start having an argument with myself, albeit in my mind.
"You're just making me feel down because you want me to go back to the bar and order a drink"
"No, you feel down because you got messed around by a date."
"Well thats true. But it's still pretty funny. First date. It's no big deal. Yet SOMEHOW i feel like Simon Cowell just gave my family an intimate run through of my sexual failings. On live television. Twice."
"Right, and thats my fault?"
"Yes, you're making me feel down over nothing because you know there's a higher chance of me caving in and getting a drink if i'm massively depressed."
Anyone else ever had that?
The Nice Guy
Anyone that lives and works in London can tell you that the tube is probably not the greatest platform for any event entitled "The Olympic Manners Challenge". If a pregnant lady walks into the cart and there's no seats, then she'd better hope that the little bubba pops out with a deckchair because no ones going to get up and offer one. Except "The Nice Guy" that's feeling tip-top, T-Total and sober. I leapt up last week and offered my chair to a woman as soon as i saw her. And she wasn't even pregnant! Well, i dunno she might have been. Probably not though. She was about 70. But while the other inhabitants of the Northern Line's 07:40am service were sat thinking "I wonder just how elastic this etiquette thing really is?" i figured f*ck it, i'm going to be sat down all day and for once my legs aren't acheing from doing 'The Shark' all night saturday so up we get.
Also performing in the nice-guy theatre is the pram-carrier.
As i approach the steps of the train platform another lady is struggling with her push-chair so i offer a hand regardless of it making me late for work. (this is what i blame it on when i get into the office anyway).
"Ade you're late!"
"Yeah sorry i had to help a woman with a push-chair."
"For two f*cking hours?"
It's weird.
All of these aspects of my personality must have been there the whole time but just either dumbed down and stifled by alchol and the tiredness it brings or you need a certain amount of good sleep and natural seritonin to WANT to help others or to feel proud about being sober.
I suppose it's all about getting to know yourself as a human being again.
For so long i've only known the Ade that went to work, sighed a lot, then went out to a bar or a club and got wasted - i'd completely forgotten about the other guy. The musical, comedic, creative, half-irish, tries-to-be-helpful 5'9, slightly pretentious chap.
I studied psychoanalysis for a year, and one of the topics they talked about was this premise of "The Murdered Me" and the mourning thereof. They lectured on the theory that depression stems from mourning the person you feel you could or should have been. So it makes sense that if this other 'me' wasn't murdered and only recently made a fight back and refused to die. That this would evoke shades of euphoria, creativity and a general sense that things really aren't that bad.
I just hope that while this apparent euphoric, helpful me is functioning, i can lift just enough prams, offer just enough seats and if it's a REALLY good day - not use the disabled toilet at work - just enough so that when St Peter does short-change me, at least maybe he'll overlook shorts-round-my-ankles drunken tomfoolery.
Concluding, a very worrying thought enters my mind. If i end up in pergatory for a thousands years for getting hammered and passing out with my shorts round my ankles - what do you think he'll do when he finds out i'm not religious?
...Not in terms of temptation of going back to booze but just literally a watch on mySELF. There are various personas that can come out with bashing cymbals if i'm not too careful, the alcoholic being just one of them. I thought i'd jot a few down just in case anyone else had come across these characters.
The Thumb Nose
It's been 13 days since i last touched a drop of alcohol, which when compared with evolution, the big bang and a few other little Godly passtimes - really isn't that long. Dont let that fool you into thinking that i can treat it like JUST long enough to turn my nose up at friends that are going out on the Friday night as though i'm somehow above it.
"You gonna come out for some beers on friday, Ade?"
"You guys are STILL doing that? Jesus..."
"Well you were passed out with your f*cking shorts round your ankles 4 weeks ago?"
It's ridiculous really. I suppose it's the ego taking control and trying to make me look and feel like i'm not missing out, like it's some kind of f*cked up choice i've made to not be able to handle substances and thus not get to see so much of my friends with they all head out.
The Infuriatingly Chirpy Sundayer
Having been to quite a few parties and having been to quite a few REAL parties in my time i'm well aware of how i probably come across when i venture out of my room on a Sunday morning, the only person in the flat that doesn't look like he caught Ebola, Swine Flu and Ecoli last night. Differences are differences you might think. And that in the West these days (with the exception of some red-states) we're largely open-minded and accepting of these. But white-hoods and N-words still safely in the bin, you'd be forgiven for thinking not when my flatmates and their friends are lazed out in the front room watching Friends re-runs, exhaling like their trying to perform a cross-lounge kiss-of-life to eachother, or single handedly trying to heat up the planet. But in i come, a ray of sunshine. A sunray that goes through a window and makes you uncomfortable, start squinting and just want it to pi$$ off - but a ray of sunshine never the less.
"Tea anyone? Coffee? Anyone fancy a trip to the Portrait Gallary in a bit?"
"Shhhh keep it down, it's only... ....Jesus is it half-2 already?"
"So thats a no to coffee then - toast? no? gallary? anyone?"
By the look on their faces you'd think i had just walked in, pulled out a knife and severed a puppies head.
And then kicked it.
As you're probably aware - when you're feeling ok, and someone else walks in the room and cracks jokes, busts out the smiles and seems in a good mood - your mood will lighten too. If you're not aware of this and you continue to be in a bad mood you should probably check a different 'topic-thread' than this next time. It sounds like you've got depression.
But if someones in a bad mood, the last f**king thing they want to see, hear, even know about is someone else being in a good mood. How many times have you been rushed off your feet, trying to get home on the bus or train. Stressed, tired, b*tchy mood and then you hear someone on their mobile phone behind you laughing and joking...
"ha ha ha - so then i said no thats MY hairband! this is yours! ha ha ha"
You actually want to kill them.
So here i am torn between my desire to remain sober, and chirpy. Versus my desire to remain alive, and breathing. Funny, it's not a dilemma i expected to face in the first 13 days, just being honest. I mean, if i wander into the front room next weekend, bouncing off the walls and vomiting sunshine, only to get a bullet through my f*ckin head - will St Peter be open to discussion?
"Pete - i gotta be straight with you here. I wanted to get sober. I wanted to be happy. And someone shot me in the face."
"Okay."
"So i was wondering if you could just overlook it. Shouldn't be hard from up here. You can't see a bloody thing but clouds."
"Overlook it? I'm sorry i can't do tha..."
"But i just wanted to get sober!"
"Yes. Well you're sober now?"
"I'M DEAD!"
"But you're sober?"
"Yeah, it's not quite sobriety as i'd hoped."
The Lonely Pretentious Idiot
As i sit in my room, relacing my shoes, catching up on washing, writing journals and then moving back onto music i'd abandoned for years i notice i'm getting more and more pretentious. (No, kidding - i'm sat here writing an article on the facets of my own personality. Go figure.)
The Skizophrenic
As i leave a bar on Friday night, a litle depressed that a date didn't go as well as i had previously envisaged it might...
"So you have a girlfriend, Ade?"
"No... no i'm single"
"Ah okay. Good."
"And you? You're single too?"
"No i have a boyfriend. He's coming back from South America next week."
**ade spits his OJ out and animatedly answers his phone**
"YES this is Ade. Why i'd love to come and pick you up from hospital, Mum. Sorry i have to go..."
So as i'm going home i'm understandably down and start having an argument with myself, albeit in my mind.
"You're just making me feel down because you want me to go back to the bar and order a drink"
"No, you feel down because you got messed around by a date."
"Well thats true. But it's still pretty funny. First date. It's no big deal. Yet SOMEHOW i feel like Simon Cowell just gave my family an intimate run through of my sexual failings. On live television. Twice."
"Right, and thats my fault?"
"Yes, you're making me feel down over nothing because you know there's a higher chance of me caving in and getting a drink if i'm massively depressed."
Anyone else ever had that?
The Nice Guy
Anyone that lives and works in London can tell you that the tube is probably not the greatest platform for any event entitled "The Olympic Manners Challenge". If a pregnant lady walks into the cart and there's no seats, then she'd better hope that the little bubba pops out with a deckchair because no ones going to get up and offer one. Except "The Nice Guy" that's feeling tip-top, T-Total and sober. I leapt up last week and offered my chair to a woman as soon as i saw her. And she wasn't even pregnant! Well, i dunno she might have been. Probably not though. She was about 70. But while the other inhabitants of the Northern Line's 07:40am service were sat thinking "I wonder just how elastic this etiquette thing really is?" i figured f*ck it, i'm going to be sat down all day and for once my legs aren't acheing from doing 'The Shark' all night saturday so up we get.
Also performing in the nice-guy theatre is the pram-carrier.
As i approach the steps of the train platform another lady is struggling with her push-chair so i offer a hand regardless of it making me late for work. (this is what i blame it on when i get into the office anyway).
"Ade you're late!"
"Yeah sorry i had to help a woman with a push-chair."
"For two f*cking hours?"
It's weird.
All of these aspects of my personality must have been there the whole time but just either dumbed down and stifled by alchol and the tiredness it brings or you need a certain amount of good sleep and natural seritonin to WANT to help others or to feel proud about being sober.
I suppose it's all about getting to know yourself as a human being again.
For so long i've only known the Ade that went to work, sighed a lot, then went out to a bar or a club and got wasted - i'd completely forgotten about the other guy. The musical, comedic, creative, half-irish, tries-to-be-helpful 5'9, slightly pretentious chap.
I studied psychoanalysis for a year, and one of the topics they talked about was this premise of "The Murdered Me" and the mourning thereof. They lectured on the theory that depression stems from mourning the person you feel you could or should have been. So it makes sense that if this other 'me' wasn't murdered and only recently made a fight back and refused to die. That this would evoke shades of euphoria, creativity and a general sense that things really aren't that bad.
I just hope that while this apparent euphoric, helpful me is functioning, i can lift just enough prams, offer just enough seats and if it's a REALLY good day - not use the disabled toilet at work - just enough so that when St Peter does short-change me, at least maybe he'll overlook shorts-round-my-ankles drunken tomfoolery.
Concluding, a very worrying thought enters my mind. If i end up in pergatory for a thousands years for getting hammered and passing out with my shorts round my ankles - what do you think he'll do when he finds out i'm not religious?
Past Entries
| July 2009 |
Saturday, 7/11
|
Sunday, 7/05
|
bored feelings are usual in early sobriety,
How much do you want to stay sober?? its not an easy thing to do as you have said, but it is possible if you put it first in front of EVERY thing else in your life.
It sounds easy when you say it quick, but i know from 18 months experience of doing it , practically its tough.
i have had to stop going out because it was making me want to drink, i have had to change my friends, give up relationships.
people say well you dont HAVE to, but I did , it was the only way i could stay sober.
I have had to reasess my whole life, change around all my ideas, values, ambitions.
But i think now even though im still a miserable git, im more content with my life all ready.
I hope you stick to your decision not to drink, love Alicexx
Alice79