Hi!
In spirit with my attempts to separate good event's from negative I've put this one as an entry of it's own. For most people at the wedding it was a dark and tragic sub-plot that we managed to keep from Eric and Crystal as much as possible. I'm really struggling to keep trying to help the guy. He throws every attempt back in my face and clearly doesn't think I have anything worth saying. He also obviously doesn't give a fuck how I feel because he hurts me everytime I see him.
Let's flash back to the previous post. I picked up Lenny just before 1pm, and he was happy, bright and looking forward to the day. Fingers crossed nothing goes wrong. I should have crossed my toes as well....
To put this into a context let's look at what's happened since March. I'd feel like a hypocrite if I comment on previous actions as I wasn't an angel either. Mind you, even when I was having problems I thought he was a mess.
Three birthday's out in March/April. On the first two he displayed his standard incoherent drunkeness which was complimented beautifully by the predatory moves around nightclubs trying to pull any woman present. This usually involves several laps of the club so he get's two or three attempts at each lady. When people are looking at you with disgust because you're his friend it's not fun. People were leaving the club to get away. He was being pushed aside and told to stay away from groups of girls as he was ruining their night. Essentially a sex pest. He also fell over a few times, and argued with me when I tried to take him home. In the end I just left him in town. I felt bad, but I was new at the not drinking and didn't really need that shit. I gave him an hour but when he started screaming at me after I suggested that going to another club was a bad idea I'd had enough....
He was cancelled for birthday number three...... I'm sure he learnt from this exclusion.
Next time we went out he was smashed again. I've been trying to put my finger on why this is. Does he drink before he comes out? Does he not eat? Maybe he get's extra drinks or sneaks shots at the bar. I know all the tricks from bitter experience. Maybe he just can't hold it and doesn't know his limits. It can't be fun staggering around on your own with that look on your face. This look is hard to describe. It's a bit sad, and confused as well as frustrated and self hating. You can almost hear him saying to himself after yet another failed attempt at social interaction "Well, you fucked that one up again, you idiot. When will you ever get it right?? Why I outta...". I always imagine his inner monologue sounds like a Marx Brothers sketch.
Long story short. Hammered, starting the moves when he meets a middle aged couple at the bar. He's left with them in 20 mins. Apparently the deal is that this guy just like watching people screw his wife. I can't judge what people are into but I'm fairly confident that a sober Lenny would have thought this to be a bad idea.
You heard about the last wedding - drunk, staggering and generally same old, same old, same old.
Stag do the same. Lashed by eight pm, falling asleep in his dinner and then spent two and a half hours trying to get into a pub, not a youth hostel. As you can imagine I was not looking forward to what the night may bring. I hate to say it but it's now a joke. The question isn't "Will Lenny get pissed and do something stupid?". It's now "When will Lenny get pissed and do something stupid?".
This time it took until the end of the speeches. The table was dry of wine and not many people had drunk any. He was staggering by 7.30, and barely coherent. Our mate cut him off from the booze, and stuck him on water. You can still minesweep tables for glasses of wine. An accidental pint of cider ordered was downed in one. He really doesn't help himself at times.I don't want to go into details because it's really embarrassing. Crying, arguing, falling over, inappropriate behavior towards women, denial, vomitting and a couple of scuffles ensued before he was finally spooned into a cab. For once it wasn't just me dealing with it, as everyone took a shift. Finally they realise what's being going on.
Now it looks like he's cancelled from all social engagements for the forseable future. He makes me so angry. He won't listen. He can't see that he may have a problem. Apparently he thinks that just because I'm an alcoholic I need to brand him one too as some kind of cathartic exercise. He won't even get his bloods checked in case he's damaging himself. Now he isn't answering his phone. I've called round his house a few times in the last couple of days. If he's not at work tomorrow I'll have to call him mum. You know had bad it has to be before you call someones mum. Not ideal!
I'm not giving up on him, but I am giving up hope that I'll be able to help him. I found out the hard way. You have to accept there's a problem and you have to help yourself.
Sad times. I hope I didn't hurt people as much as this is hurting me. If I did I'm amazed they still talk to me.
Laters,
R***
Monday 27 August 2012
Nice day for a Wet Wedding
Hi all,
As I've mentioned previously, this weekend my friends Eric and Crystal got married. It's been a nervous couple of months. Sitting next to Eric at work I have had hourly updates on the difficulties of obtaining trailer fridges, bunting and the inherent problems associated with organising a wedding yourselves. Then in the last week BBC weather has been checked constantly with an increasing sense of foreboding. Saturday - intermittent dull weather interspersed with pissing rain by the trough. I was surprised to see that on the BBC but at least they are honest.
A few of us were camping over and the tents were set up by Bob and Snr Boudoir on Friday as I couldn't get time off work (we work in a small team and Eric was on holiday - selfish git!) so when the big day came all was good. Up early, shaved, and started to get ready. Once again I was driving so I went to get Lenny en route to the church. He was looking smart, happy (sober) and he was really looking forward to the day, as was I. It took a while to drive the 3 miles to his place as even with the wipers on full, visability was about 20 metres. Not ideal.
The rain broke as we got to the church and we did the usual hanging around bit until it was time to go in, and then we took our seats. I'd seen a lot of my baby sisters friends outside, which is always a bit strange. If she hadn't moved abroad she would probably been invited too. Odd. Then again, if she hadn't emigrated I wouldn't get cheap holidays, so you win some lose some (only joking sis).
Eric was looking excited, as you can imagine. Then the moment came and his bride entered the church, flanked by the bridesmaids and 836 flower girls. I guess when you ask one you kind of have to ask all. She looked stunning, and so pleased to be there. There were no nerves from either of them - this was just the way it was meant to be. Beautiful. Eric's gran is a priest so she conducted the service, which was also cool. She's around 80 so had complete license to improvise/make things up and this made it even more personal. Apparently she confessed in the rehersal "you know, I haven't done one of these for a while". It was really moving and intimate. Not many people have their gran encouraging them to join bodies in the bliss of sexual union, but sometimes you have to roll with these things.
You could hear the rain outside during the service but it stopped again in time for the photo's and trip to the reception. It was on a working farm in the country so it was quite special. The aroma was definitely a feature. Luckily I've smoked for decades so have no sense of smell. The rain recommenced once everyone had arrived but in some ways this helped bring everyone together. No one could wander off so everyone was thrown together in an open sided barn and people just started chatting. It was really friendly and at least we all had something to talk about. The ice was broken and then we went in for the meal.
It was a great buffet; king prawns, salmon, roast beef, gammon, cheese, amazing salads, chutneys, pies and probably loads more I've forgotten........ The family had all pitched in under the direction of a cousin (chef) and it all worked beautifully. To be honest I was started to fall asleep when the speeches started. I had the classic "eaten to much at a wedding, and feel a bit sicky" problem. Everyone else was caning the wine and then the champagne arrived. I don't know if it's cheating but I had a sip after each speech. It feels like I should do. I don't even like champagne.....
Eric and his brother gave brilliant speeches. They were personal, moving and uplifting, whilst sensitive too. The moment I was dreading was the absent friends part. Eric's father passed away some years ago and my eyes were watering as we got near that point. He came through it with a lot of class. It was obvious he was struggling and I hope he sensed everyone willing him on. He just stopped and said, "Well, enough about that. Let's move on". He's a brave man, and I'm proud to know him. He's also married a legend of a girl. I hope they'll be very happy.
The evening carried on and the band started. Fuelled by happiness and red bull we all hit the dancefloor until the early hours. It's always good to throw some shapes, although I thought his gran wasn't putting her all into it. Not wishing to criticise, but someone needed to say it.
All in all it was a great evening. Dancing, laughing and chatting. It was cool to be introduced to the wives of the guys who went on the stag. "M*****? I've heard all about you!!" The accompanying smile and subsequent conversations revealed that they'd heard we'd had a great time, and that I wasn't a nob. This may not sound much to you but it's a big step up from a year ago for me.
Great day. Great people. So glad to have been invited.
Good luck guys, but I don't think you'll need it.
Laters,
R***
As I've mentioned previously, this weekend my friends Eric and Crystal got married. It's been a nervous couple of months. Sitting next to Eric at work I have had hourly updates on the difficulties of obtaining trailer fridges, bunting and the inherent problems associated with organising a wedding yourselves. Then in the last week BBC weather has been checked constantly with an increasing sense of foreboding. Saturday - intermittent dull weather interspersed with pissing rain by the trough. I was surprised to see that on the BBC but at least they are honest.
A few of us were camping over and the tents were set up by Bob and Snr Boudoir on Friday as I couldn't get time off work (we work in a small team and Eric was on holiday - selfish git!) so when the big day came all was good. Up early, shaved, and started to get ready. Once again I was driving so I went to get Lenny en route to the church. He was looking smart, happy (sober) and he was really looking forward to the day, as was I. It took a while to drive the 3 miles to his place as even with the wipers on full, visability was about 20 metres. Not ideal.
The rain broke as we got to the church and we did the usual hanging around bit until it was time to go in, and then we took our seats. I'd seen a lot of my baby sisters friends outside, which is always a bit strange. If she hadn't moved abroad she would probably been invited too. Odd. Then again, if she hadn't emigrated I wouldn't get cheap holidays, so you win some lose some (only joking sis).
Eric was looking excited, as you can imagine. Then the moment came and his bride entered the church, flanked by the bridesmaids and 836 flower girls. I guess when you ask one you kind of have to ask all. She looked stunning, and so pleased to be there. There were no nerves from either of them - this was just the way it was meant to be. Beautiful. Eric's gran is a priest so she conducted the service, which was also cool. She's around 80 so had complete license to improvise/make things up and this made it even more personal. Apparently she confessed in the rehersal "you know, I haven't done one of these for a while". It was really moving and intimate. Not many people have their gran encouraging them to join bodies in the bliss of sexual union, but sometimes you have to roll with these things.
You could hear the rain outside during the service but it stopped again in time for the photo's and trip to the reception. It was on a working farm in the country so it was quite special. The aroma was definitely a feature. Luckily I've smoked for decades so have no sense of smell. The rain recommenced once everyone had arrived but in some ways this helped bring everyone together. No one could wander off so everyone was thrown together in an open sided barn and people just started chatting. It was really friendly and at least we all had something to talk about. The ice was broken and then we went in for the meal.
It was a great buffet; king prawns, salmon, roast beef, gammon, cheese, amazing salads, chutneys, pies and probably loads more I've forgotten........ The family had all pitched in under the direction of a cousin (chef) and it all worked beautifully. To be honest I was started to fall asleep when the speeches started. I had the classic "eaten to much at a wedding, and feel a bit sicky" problem. Everyone else was caning the wine and then the champagne arrived. I don't know if it's cheating but I had a sip after each speech. It feels like I should do. I don't even like champagne.....
Eric and his brother gave brilliant speeches. They were personal, moving and uplifting, whilst sensitive too. The moment I was dreading was the absent friends part. Eric's father passed away some years ago and my eyes were watering as we got near that point. He came through it with a lot of class. It was obvious he was struggling and I hope he sensed everyone willing him on. He just stopped and said, "Well, enough about that. Let's move on". He's a brave man, and I'm proud to know him. He's also married a legend of a girl. I hope they'll be very happy.
The evening carried on and the band started. Fuelled by happiness and red bull we all hit the dancefloor until the early hours. It's always good to throw some shapes, although I thought his gran wasn't putting her all into it. Not wishing to criticise, but someone needed to say it.
All in all it was a great evening. Dancing, laughing and chatting. It was cool to be introduced to the wives of the guys who went on the stag. "M*****? I've heard all about you!!" The accompanying smile and subsequent conversations revealed that they'd heard we'd had a great time, and that I wasn't a nob. This may not sound much to you but it's a big step up from a year ago for me.
Great day. Great people. So glad to have been invited.
Good luck guys, but I don't think you'll need it.
Laters,
R***
Posting Feedback
Good morning all,
I hope all of you in the UK are all enjoying our traditional summer bank holiday weather; ie it's cold, windy, bleak and looks like it's going to piss down if you even think about leaving the house. I'm sure this will bring a tear to the eye of any ex-pat's out there as you reminisce fondly of wet Mondays spent trying to pretend that you are enjoying yourself.
Even our great British tradition of going to the pub at midday and getting bladdered is denied to me, but I'm not too sad about missing out on that one.
Anyway, back to my point. It's been mentioned that I seem to lump an entire story + a few normals/tangents into one blog so it often seems that I'm pretty negative when actually I'm not. For example the stag do. Had a fantastic 36 hours but I didn't want to go to a casino and Lenny was twatted. The last two points shouldn't detract from an amazing couple of days.
I'll have a bash at segregation but it probably won't work. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure what the rules are on reading your own posts but I read one from a couple of weeks ago after a friend mentioned it at the weekend. It reads like a bloody suicide note. I'd known I was depressed but until you actually see it written down it's hard to gauge. It seems a long time ago now.
Anyway, back to the story. In line with my new guidelines I'll start by telling you about a magical day where two amazing people publicly declare their love for one another and then I'll move into the blackstuff...
Hasta luego
I hope all of you in the UK are all enjoying our traditional summer bank holiday weather; ie it's cold, windy, bleak and looks like it's going to piss down if you even think about leaving the house. I'm sure this will bring a tear to the eye of any ex-pat's out there as you reminisce fondly of wet Mondays spent trying to pretend that you are enjoying yourself.
Even our great British tradition of going to the pub at midday and getting bladdered is denied to me, but I'm not too sad about missing out on that one.
Anyway, back to my point. It's been mentioned that I seem to lump an entire story + a few normals/tangents into one blog so it often seems that I'm pretty negative when actually I'm not. For example the stag do. Had a fantastic 36 hours but I didn't want to go to a casino and Lenny was twatted. The last two points shouldn't detract from an amazing couple of days.
I'll have a bash at segregation but it probably won't work. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure what the rules are on reading your own posts but I read one from a couple of weeks ago after a friend mentioned it at the weekend. It reads like a bloody suicide note. I'd known I was depressed but until you actually see it written down it's hard to gauge. It seems a long time ago now.
Anyway, back to the story. In line with my new guidelines I'll start by telling you about a magical day where two amazing people publicly declare their love for one another and then I'll move into the blackstuff...
Hasta luego
Thursday 23 August 2012
The good week continues, a "Shane-esque" evening, and the odd thing of a beer reward
Hola!
Having got over the weekends sleep depravation I'm now back into the swing of it all. Was a teensy bit grumpy Monday but that has passed. I've spent the week doing very little. Up at 6:30, with a fairly casual work preparation regime. It's pleasant not having to rush, especially as we still have some vestige of summer left, and I still get in early
Right now I'm loving going to work. My head is clear again, the depressants/depression has left me and I'm almost at 100% again. I'm aware that I don't get much happier than this, on a personal level. I'd like to have someone to share it with but that's another story.
I hate having to admit this but baby sister is right. "You've got enough on as it is at the moment without getting messed up over another girl". Bitch! I love her because she's always right, and she doesn't want me to get hurt. Actually she's probably more worried about the next girl whose life I bring misery too. She always got on with my exes..... It's odd that she's been the adult in our sibling relationship since she was 17 and I was 21.
I mentioned before that I go a bit bi-polar at first when I quit drinking. Hopefully I've actually passed through that and I am really this happy. I know for a fact that I'm back on form as I'm annoying people with how happy and positive I am at work. It's also the comments that I get away with. Bear in mind that I've known a lot of these people for over a decade so I do have a bit of a license to sail close to the wind. A comment such as "Loving the hair!! The festival look is really in at the moment", may cause offence from a lot of people but they seem to realise that I can't resist a little jab with a compliment and we laugh before they critcise my ironing and then we actually talk properly. It's flirting with being rude, and it's also flirting with flirting but we all know the game. I walk around the office and smile at everyone, and they smile back. I don't know if they're happy that I'm happy or whether I make them feel good. Hopefully a bit of both.
I volunteered to devise and deliver a couple of training programs and I'm loving that too. It's the chance to imprint my view of how things work on the world, and then share it with others. It's all factual too - I don't just make shit up but I've found that training is often either too vague or overcomplicated. The best bit is delivering it. I get to go off road if people want to and it always seems to turn into a chat about the subject, not a lecture. So far everyone seems to enjoy it, so I'm doing something right. I think I just love people. I've also been told that I love the sound of my own voice, but I can't see that. They were ALL wrong about that! Every single one of them. Jealous bastards!
Lost at cards in the pub Tuesday. I had a night of shit cards, or second best cards. I'd rather have shit ones as second best gets expensive! £10 buy in so at least I didn't lose the car. I ordered a "London Pride" as my first drink. Then the bar manager and I remonstrated with the poor girl who went to pour it. "What do you think you're doing? I don't drink!" and "He barred himself, remember?". I bought her a drink to say sorry. I'm actually quite loving the grapefruit juice and lemondade at the minute. May get tricky in winter. A man can only drink so much coffee....
Last night I was asked round Lenny's for £1 poker with Bob. I had to turn it down. I'm too angry and upset with him right now, and I know I have another night of babysitting coming up on Saturday at Eric and Crystal's wedding (I wish I actually did know a couple called Eric and Ruby - their actual names are nowhere near as fun). Bob told me tonight just to cut Lenny loose and let him look after himself but I really can't. Apparently "he wasn't that drunk" at cards. Mare. Maybe next post I'll just try to work out what our relationship is.
Anyway, tonight Bob and I helped my old man (the Silver Fox) dig up a tree stump in the garden. Scratch that. Dad and I helped Bob dig up a tree stump in the garden. It was a bit like that scene in Shane. "Sody-Pops", and flailing axes. It took over two hours and in the end the torch was unleashed but we got it out. It's nice to do something manual, and we got a real sense of achievement. Wouldn't have got that from the pub. The Silver Fox paid Bob in french beer. The Fox only drinks ale and I don't want a crate right now so he was going to get it anyway, but I like to think that he prefered to work for it. I am a bad friend....(evil laugh). To be fair he enjoys hitting things with sledge hammers and axes so it wasn't that mean.
This brings me on to another point. The "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a pint", persuasion tactic. Is the beer or the social contract the most important part of this? "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a grapefruit and lemonade. I'll even get them to put an umbrella in it", just doesn't seem to cut it somehow. Odd. It's amazing how ingrained alcohol is in our society. Even watching a police drama the inspector goes to the pub about four times a day..... Booze is everywhere. I can't complain because I did my best to reduce it's availability for almost two decades. I always ran out of money or time before the pub ran out of beer. Strange.
Righty-ho (I have never said that before in my life - but I've typed it now so it stays in)
Off to bed.
Catch you all tomorrow
Having got over the weekends sleep depravation I'm now back into the swing of it all. Was a teensy bit grumpy Monday but that has passed. I've spent the week doing very little. Up at 6:30, with a fairly casual work preparation regime. It's pleasant not having to rush, especially as we still have some vestige of summer left, and I still get in early
Right now I'm loving going to work. My head is clear again, the depressants/depression has left me and I'm almost at 100% again. I'm aware that I don't get much happier than this, on a personal level. I'd like to have someone to share it with but that's another story.
I hate having to admit this but baby sister is right. "You've got enough on as it is at the moment without getting messed up over another girl". Bitch! I love her because she's always right, and she doesn't want me to get hurt. Actually she's probably more worried about the next girl whose life I bring misery too. She always got on with my exes..... It's odd that she's been the adult in our sibling relationship since she was 17 and I was 21.
I mentioned before that I go a bit bi-polar at first when I quit drinking. Hopefully I've actually passed through that and I am really this happy. I know for a fact that I'm back on form as I'm annoying people with how happy and positive I am at work. It's also the comments that I get away with. Bear in mind that I've known a lot of these people for over a decade so I do have a bit of a license to sail close to the wind. A comment such as "Loving the hair!! The festival look is really in at the moment", may cause offence from a lot of people but they seem to realise that I can't resist a little jab with a compliment and we laugh before they critcise my ironing and then we actually talk properly. It's flirting with being rude, and it's also flirting with flirting but we all know the game. I walk around the office and smile at everyone, and they smile back. I don't know if they're happy that I'm happy or whether I make them feel good. Hopefully a bit of both.
I volunteered to devise and deliver a couple of training programs and I'm loving that too. It's the chance to imprint my view of how things work on the world, and then share it with others. It's all factual too - I don't just make shit up but I've found that training is often either too vague or overcomplicated. The best bit is delivering it. I get to go off road if people want to and it always seems to turn into a chat about the subject, not a lecture. So far everyone seems to enjoy it, so I'm doing something right. I think I just love people. I've also been told that I love the sound of my own voice, but I can't see that. They were ALL wrong about that! Every single one of them. Jealous bastards!
Lost at cards in the pub Tuesday. I had a night of shit cards, or second best cards. I'd rather have shit ones as second best gets expensive! £10 buy in so at least I didn't lose the car. I ordered a "London Pride" as my first drink. Then the bar manager and I remonstrated with the poor girl who went to pour it. "What do you think you're doing? I don't drink!" and "He barred himself, remember?". I bought her a drink to say sorry. I'm actually quite loving the grapefruit juice and lemondade at the minute. May get tricky in winter. A man can only drink so much coffee....
Last night I was asked round Lenny's for £1 poker with Bob. I had to turn it down. I'm too angry and upset with him right now, and I know I have another night of babysitting coming up on Saturday at Eric and Crystal's wedding (I wish I actually did know a couple called Eric and Ruby - their actual names are nowhere near as fun). Bob told me tonight just to cut Lenny loose and let him look after himself but I really can't. Apparently "he wasn't that drunk" at cards. Mare. Maybe next post I'll just try to work out what our relationship is.
Anyway, tonight Bob and I helped my old man (the Silver Fox) dig up a tree stump in the garden. Scratch that. Dad and I helped Bob dig up a tree stump in the garden. It was a bit like that scene in Shane. "Sody-Pops", and flailing axes. It took over two hours and in the end the torch was unleashed but we got it out. It's nice to do something manual, and we got a real sense of achievement. Wouldn't have got that from the pub. The Silver Fox paid Bob in french beer. The Fox only drinks ale and I don't want a crate right now so he was going to get it anyway, but I like to think that he prefered to work for it. I am a bad friend....(evil laugh). To be fair he enjoys hitting things with sledge hammers and axes so it wasn't that mean.
This brings me on to another point. The "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a pint", persuasion tactic. Is the beer or the social contract the most important part of this? "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a grapefruit and lemonade. I'll even get them to put an umbrella in it", just doesn't seem to cut it somehow. Odd. It's amazing how ingrained alcohol is in our society. Even watching a police drama the inspector goes to the pub about four times a day..... Booze is everywhere. I can't complain because I did my best to reduce it's availability for almost two decades. I always ran out of money or time before the pub ran out of beer. Strange.
Righty-ho (I have never said that before in my life - but I've typed it now so it stays in)
Off to bed.
Catch you all tomorrow
Tuesday 21 August 2012
Weight....
Last Tuesday (A week ago) I was 9stone 2lb, 58kg ( Same as Mo Farrah). I've lost 4lb overnight so am now 9 stone 13lb, or 63kg. 10lb in a week is pretty good. It would have been a stone but the convention of morning weighing.
It strikes me as very unfair that I have to weigh myself at my lightest. People on diets should be forced to weigh themselves after dinner! Where's my motivation? Bastards! To solve this I intend to simply snack constantly between meals. Back on the 'nanas. Bring it on!
Right, off to the fun farm. I am actually loving work at the minute, which really helps. I'll give you an update later to see if this is still the case.......
Have wonderful days,
R***
It strikes me as very unfair that I have to weigh myself at my lightest. People on diets should be forced to weigh themselves after dinner! Where's my motivation? Bastards! To solve this I intend to simply snack constantly between meals. Back on the 'nanas. Bring it on!
Right, off to the fun farm. I am actually loving work at the minute, which really helps. I'll give you an update later to see if this is still the case.......
Have wonderful days,
R***
Stag Night...Pirate Power & Lenny Strikes Again
Hi! It's been a while.You'll hopefully be pleased to know that I survived a potential minefield;
SOBER AT A STAG DO!!!!
I got up at 6:30 Friday morning and work passed fairly uneventfully. Bob, the Stag ("Eric") and I discussed the next day and generally all was good. I left for the weekend, and wandered home. As the evening progressed I got bored and ended up round Lenny's at about 10:30 to play cards.
Bob was on the beer, but Lenny was on squash. This concerned me. Turns out he'd had 5 pints, a few glasses of wine and was now on the smoke to avoid a hangover. Having lost my money (£1) I headed home at midnight with a sense of worry for the next day, and also a sense of frustration that Lenny always seems to hit straights and full houses when he has no right to play. You remember I said I always seemed to win? Not when sober it seems. Maybe I just used to forget the losses.... Got to sleep at 2.30....
I woke up at 6.30 and was pretty excited. Shower. Fag. Coffee. Fag. Food. Fag. Then I decided to adjust my outfit. 10 minutes, a magic needle and a keen sense of style later (ok exagerating) I had a pirate jacket that did up to the neck, and did look pretty cool. Got dressed and got the bus to the station. The journey was fairly uneventful and we were met at the station by Eric's brother. It takes a brave man to stand on a platform on his own, dressed as a pirate and waving a giant skull and crossbones flag. Good skills that man!!!
We went straight to the hostel , dumped our gear and then got on the ship. The Matthew is pretty cool. A replica 16th galleon. We chilled arout the harbour for an hour and got into character. "Aaaarrrggghh!!", was shouted a lot and we waved at passing boats and people on the banks. Cool. As. Fuck. People love pirates. Everyone else hit the beer/cider but hey, if you're going to fail by 11am then the booze really will beat you. I passed.
To cut it short we went to a few pubs (like bars, only full of people - not dicks) pausing on the way so passing families and other strangers could have photo's taken with us (You feel like a celebrity - V Cool) and went for our bowling and pizza in a cool place god know's where. It was right in the middle of the "See No Evil" street festival. Let's examine Eric's likes; Reggae/hip-hop? Check. Dancing? Check. Red Stripe? Check. Street Parties? Check. Being dressed as a pirate? Check. Dancing to reggae/hip-hop at a street party whilst drinking red stripe and dressed as a pirate? The impossible dream. We hung out and danced like the place was ours for 3 hours until it was time to head back to the hostel and change.
Change? Why? This is an extremely valid question. Apparently we were going to a casino that night. I didn't really fancy it if it meant ditching the clobber, and nor did most of the others. As I explained to my new found mates, "This means we can't go as pirates. This is bad. We have spent the last three hours stopping groups of people with the flag and 'tagging them' with eyeliner. Do you honestly think those girls would have let us sign their boobs if we weren't dressed as pirates?". The answer was a resounding "No". Tonight we go out dressed as twats in shirts and trousers. We're not twats, but we may as well be. So dull. No more boob signing for us!!!
You could see most of the group visibly deflate as the costumes came off. We were just normal again. I was trying to form rebel fringe groups but the pressure to conform was too great. Worse still, it was over an hour since some of these guys last had a beer and the come-down was kicking in. We put on our twat uniforms and went to the twat bar next door but one to the hostel, with all the other twats in their twat uniforms. I felt like I'd never sign a boob again. The pre-cab beer kicked in for the guys and now they just looked tired.
We had a fairly decent Thai meal, which lasted longer than a Monday morning with a hangover, then went to the casino. During the meal the guys looked a little beat, and Lenny was falling into his green curry but luckily casino's offer free soft drinks including COFFEE!!! Like 70% of the party I wasn't that keen so I didn't gamble but I did cane 7 coffees in just over three quarters of an hour. The stage was set.
Two bars and two pints of red bull later and I was ready. I'd passed the time by helping a bride-to-be to convince Lenny to remove his boxers in the middle of a bar. He was half way through it when security came over. They took it pretty well. I guess this stuff happens a lot. Lenny was now my sole room-mate as the other two guys had decided to head home after the casino. I took the precaution of ordering a spare room key for him. The dude was live by now and anything could happen. As it turns out my precautions were in vain, but I'll come to this later.
We found a dirty, cheap, sweaty, underground nightclub that was banging out Indie Rock from the 90's and more besides. It looked like a dive. Perfect!!! It occured to me at about this point that I'd been on the stag for 16 hours and not only had I not had a drink, I didn't want one. I admit that coffee and redbull is cheating a bit but I had only had four hours sleep, so give me a break. The rest of the groups drunkeness was becoming a bit more obvious by now and our hero, as always, was leading the way. Staggering, slurring and general acting like a wobbly and confused sexual predator. We'd even had a chat whilst getting changed. "Give the booze a break until after the casino. We'll still be out till dawn so just enjoy it". This was agreed to and heeded right up until the point we got to a bar.......
We danced with the free abandonment of people who are having a great time and don't care if they look like twats to other people. Awesome. Dance on your own, dance in a group, dance with people you've never met before. As long as you're having a blast and no one gets hurt anything goes. It was amazing. If the street party hadn't been so cool this would have been the best bit by a mile. Then, at 3.30am, my phone rang. I didn't know it yet but this would not be the last time I was to have this conversation that morning.
"R***, it's Lenny. I can't get into the Hostel"
"Have you tried your key?"
"What key?"
"The one I paid for so this wouldn't happen.... Look, don't worry about it. The front door isn't locked. Just walk in".
"It won't open"
"Ok, I'll be back about 4:30. Keep trying. Ask a passer by or something".
This was repeated every 20 - 30 minutes until 6am. Obviously when I was back I went looking for him. Not at the front door, not at the back. Where is the dozy git?
Finally I got lucky at 6am. I went outside to look for him and found him. He had been trying to access the twats bar two doors down from our hostel for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Unbelievable. One was a bar, set back from the road with tables, chairs and a sign saying "cafe bar". The other was a Youth Hostel, that looked like a Youth Hostel. The other clue was fluorescent blue sign that illuminated the street saying "NYA". Muppet. I finally got him to bed, when he'd stopped hugging me, kissing me and telling me he loved me. It was very sweet, but there is a time and a place for that kind of shit and 6.30am when checkout is 10am is not that fucking time. Then he finally stopped talking. The fucker snores like a B52 warming up, and started within seconds of passing out. I tried shaking him, moving his legs, shouting. I even tried kicking him. It got to 8am and I just gave up, showered, dressed and packed. I am not in a good mood.
Throughout the morning the rest of the party surface. I tried waking Lenny at 20 minute intervals from 9.30 onwards (I liked the role reversal) but with no joy. I was all in favour of leaving him. Everyone thought I was being mean but I'd got him in safe. He can sort his own shit out from now on. I've had enough. A few of us went in search of a cafe in full pirate regalia and it seems he got up at quarter to eleven, then showered whilst the rest waited before appearing half an hour later. I didn't get an apology. I doubt he remembers.
The rest of the day was cool. We chilled out at the cricket and had a chat. People started comparing hangovers. I was a bit grumpy leading to the question, "Not drinking today, eh M*****? Feeling a bit delicate? You were pretty crazy last night". When Eric's friends (now my friends too) realised that I hadn't been drinking the day before they were stunned. Not sure if this is a good thing or not. Actually I am sure. Seems I can be completely uninhibited sober too. Cooooooooooooool! I like that. I really don't need that shit.
Finally got to bed just before midnight. 4 hours sleep out of 65. Good god. Work is going to be emotional tomorrow. I was knackered and elated. I'd done it. I'd proved I could do it. I can have a great time and still be last man standing without Allie. Fuck that slut. I don't need her. I've found pirates.
SOBER AT A STAG DO!!!!
I got up at 6:30 Friday morning and work passed fairly uneventfully. Bob, the Stag ("Eric") and I discussed the next day and generally all was good. I left for the weekend, and wandered home. As the evening progressed I got bored and ended up round Lenny's at about 10:30 to play cards.
Bob was on the beer, but Lenny was on squash. This concerned me. Turns out he'd had 5 pints, a few glasses of wine and was now on the smoke to avoid a hangover. Having lost my money (£1) I headed home at midnight with a sense of worry for the next day, and also a sense of frustration that Lenny always seems to hit straights and full houses when he has no right to play. You remember I said I always seemed to win? Not when sober it seems. Maybe I just used to forget the losses.... Got to sleep at 2.30....
I woke up at 6.30 and was pretty excited. Shower. Fag. Coffee. Fag. Food. Fag. Then I decided to adjust my outfit. 10 minutes, a magic needle and a keen sense of style later (ok exagerating) I had a pirate jacket that did up to the neck, and did look pretty cool. Got dressed and got the bus to the station. The journey was fairly uneventful and we were met at the station by Eric's brother. It takes a brave man to stand on a platform on his own, dressed as a pirate and waving a giant skull and crossbones flag. Good skills that man!!!
We went straight to the hostel , dumped our gear and then got on the ship. The Matthew is pretty cool. A replica 16th galleon. We chilled arout the harbour for an hour and got into character. "Aaaarrrggghh!!", was shouted a lot and we waved at passing boats and people on the banks. Cool. As. Fuck. People love pirates. Everyone else hit the beer/cider but hey, if you're going to fail by 11am then the booze really will beat you. I passed.
To cut it short we went to a few pubs (like bars, only full of people - not dicks) pausing on the way so passing families and other strangers could have photo's taken with us (You feel like a celebrity - V Cool) and went for our bowling and pizza in a cool place god know's where. It was right in the middle of the "See No Evil" street festival. Let's examine Eric's likes; Reggae/hip-hop? Check. Dancing? Check. Red Stripe? Check. Street Parties? Check. Being dressed as a pirate? Check. Dancing to reggae/hip-hop at a street party whilst drinking red stripe and dressed as a pirate? The impossible dream. We hung out and danced like the place was ours for 3 hours until it was time to head back to the hostel and change.
Change? Why? This is an extremely valid question. Apparently we were going to a casino that night. I didn't really fancy it if it meant ditching the clobber, and nor did most of the others. As I explained to my new found mates, "This means we can't go as pirates. This is bad. We have spent the last three hours stopping groups of people with the flag and 'tagging them' with eyeliner. Do you honestly think those girls would have let us sign their boobs if we weren't dressed as pirates?". The answer was a resounding "No". Tonight we go out dressed as twats in shirts and trousers. We're not twats, but we may as well be. So dull. No more boob signing for us!!!
You could see most of the group visibly deflate as the costumes came off. We were just normal again. I was trying to form rebel fringe groups but the pressure to conform was too great. Worse still, it was over an hour since some of these guys last had a beer and the come-down was kicking in. We put on our twat uniforms and went to the twat bar next door but one to the hostel, with all the other twats in their twat uniforms. I felt like I'd never sign a boob again. The pre-cab beer kicked in for the guys and now they just looked tired.
We had a fairly decent Thai meal, which lasted longer than a Monday morning with a hangover, then went to the casino. During the meal the guys looked a little beat, and Lenny was falling into his green curry but luckily casino's offer free soft drinks including COFFEE!!! Like 70% of the party I wasn't that keen so I didn't gamble but I did cane 7 coffees in just over three quarters of an hour. The stage was set.
Two bars and two pints of red bull later and I was ready. I'd passed the time by helping a bride-to-be to convince Lenny to remove his boxers in the middle of a bar. He was half way through it when security came over. They took it pretty well. I guess this stuff happens a lot. Lenny was now my sole room-mate as the other two guys had decided to head home after the casino. I took the precaution of ordering a spare room key for him. The dude was live by now and anything could happen. As it turns out my precautions were in vain, but I'll come to this later.
We found a dirty, cheap, sweaty, underground nightclub that was banging out Indie Rock from the 90's and more besides. It looked like a dive. Perfect!!! It occured to me at about this point that I'd been on the stag for 16 hours and not only had I not had a drink, I didn't want one. I admit that coffee and redbull is cheating a bit but I had only had four hours sleep, so give me a break. The rest of the groups drunkeness was becoming a bit more obvious by now and our hero, as always, was leading the way. Staggering, slurring and general acting like a wobbly and confused sexual predator. We'd even had a chat whilst getting changed. "Give the booze a break until after the casino. We'll still be out till dawn so just enjoy it". This was agreed to and heeded right up until the point we got to a bar.......
We danced with the free abandonment of people who are having a great time and don't care if they look like twats to other people. Awesome. Dance on your own, dance in a group, dance with people you've never met before. As long as you're having a blast and no one gets hurt anything goes. It was amazing. If the street party hadn't been so cool this would have been the best bit by a mile. Then, at 3.30am, my phone rang. I didn't know it yet but this would not be the last time I was to have this conversation that morning.
"R***, it's Lenny. I can't get into the Hostel"
"Have you tried your key?"
"What key?"
"The one I paid for so this wouldn't happen.... Look, don't worry about it. The front door isn't locked. Just walk in".
"It won't open"
"Ok, I'll be back about 4:30. Keep trying. Ask a passer by or something".
This was repeated every 20 - 30 minutes until 6am. Obviously when I was back I went looking for him. Not at the front door, not at the back. Where is the dozy git?
Finally I got lucky at 6am. I went outside to look for him and found him. He had been trying to access the twats bar two doors down from our hostel for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Unbelievable. One was a bar, set back from the road with tables, chairs and a sign saying "cafe bar". The other was a Youth Hostel, that looked like a Youth Hostel. The other clue was fluorescent blue sign that illuminated the street saying "NYA". Muppet. I finally got him to bed, when he'd stopped hugging me, kissing me and telling me he loved me. It was very sweet, but there is a time and a place for that kind of shit and 6.30am when checkout is 10am is not that fucking time. Then he finally stopped talking. The fucker snores like a B52 warming up, and started within seconds of passing out. I tried shaking him, moving his legs, shouting. I even tried kicking him. It got to 8am and I just gave up, showered, dressed and packed. I am not in a good mood.
Throughout the morning the rest of the party surface. I tried waking Lenny at 20 minute intervals from 9.30 onwards (I liked the role reversal) but with no joy. I was all in favour of leaving him. Everyone thought I was being mean but I'd got him in safe. He can sort his own shit out from now on. I've had enough. A few of us went in search of a cafe in full pirate regalia and it seems he got up at quarter to eleven, then showered whilst the rest waited before appearing half an hour later. I didn't get an apology. I doubt he remembers.
The rest of the day was cool. We chilled out at the cricket and had a chat. People started comparing hangovers. I was a bit grumpy leading to the question, "Not drinking today, eh M*****? Feeling a bit delicate? You were pretty crazy last night". When Eric's friends (now my friends too) realised that I hadn't been drinking the day before they were stunned. Not sure if this is a good thing or not. Actually I am sure. Seems I can be completely uninhibited sober too. Cooooooooooooool! I like that. I really don't need that shit.
Finally got to bed just before midnight. 4 hours sleep out of 65. Good god. Work is going to be emotional tomorrow. I was knackered and elated. I'd done it. I'd proved I could do it. I can have a great time and still be last man standing without Allie. Fuck that slut. I don't need her. I've found pirates.
Thursday 16 August 2012
Good day!
Getting better, getting easier. Well, not easier - just back to where I was.
Work was cool. Had a few hole-punching related japes. You really have to work with a stationery obsessive to find that funny. "This is not A4!!!". Generally felt better about me and made a valid contribution. Also, having nothing to hide/fear makes the day much more pleasant. Walked out of work as my bus pulled up. Another winner!! May stick a couple of quid on England winning the test match. Maybe not.
That actually reminds me. Bob likes to stick crap bets on horses and spend Saturday afternoon watching them win/lose/ wander off and eat grass. 25p to win, £1.50 lucky 15's, that kind of thing. 5 hours entertainment for about a £5 outlay, plus tea and biscuits. I mentioned this to my brother in law when he asked how I was going to pass the weekends. "I'm off to Bob's to watch the racing, place a few bets. Nothing heavy". His reply absolutely killed me. "Uh, R***. Are you sure that's wise? You really don't want to be swapping one addiction with another". I explained the stakes. "You're going that big? That could be a £250 loss over a year!", he said nodding in a slightly patronising yet worldly way. "Can't you just watch without betting?".
I almost cried laughing. A 10p stake on a 10-1 is worth two hours of newspaper research, then the cheering, followed either by the celebratory running round a room, or more usual screwing up of a losing ticket and trying to "Jordan" it into a waste paper bin. I tried to explain how much I drank, how much I spent on booze, and he just couldn't compute it. It was well worth the £5. I think I was 50p up, less 99p biscuit expenditure. Bob provided the tea.
Anyway, came home from work, had a "hearty meal". Not great. Watched my youngest nephew smash the house up for a bit, and after that I arranged to go to Bob's a few hours time. Our mate is getting married next weekend and the stag is this coming one. It's in a Nautical city and we're hiring a galleon for a bit so "Pirates", is the only logical theme. In the meantime I found a pair of chino's I'd never seen before and announced that I was making shorts! I hacked these chino's up and they look pretty good. Ripped, frayed and generally a mess. Actually they sound a bit like my emotional state earlier in the week. Anyway, when I announced that I'd finished my mum asked "Aren't you going to neaten them up a bit?". "Why on earth would I do that?", I said."Well, they're really messy. There's bits hanging off that leg". "PIRATE THEME?????". "Oh, I just thought you were rubbish at cutting". No apology. To be fair she never needs to apologise to me for anything, ever.
I made my excuses and went round Bob's. We had a great time making piraty headscarves, sorting out outfits and having a laugh. I even persuaded him to hack up one of his old suit jackets. Turns out that it looked shit on him, but I looked pretty hot. The only downside is that the sword his dad had made me is now more of a dagger after a bathroom door incident. Win some, lose some.
Got to about 8:30 and we decided to drive up the local hill for a walk. Only takes two tunes to drive there so ideal. We spent an hour just wandering about, looking at the sunset, admiring the scenery and generally talking shit. I told him how things were with me, and he talked too. Made a resolution to do more exciting things in future. Planning more fishing, badminton, camping. Anything to get out the rut of pub olympics, followed by poker in Lenny's lounge. If we go to bars can they at least be interesting ones?
Dropped him off, then drove home. Have just attacked an Jamon Iberico and feel slightly sick. Gambling I can't see as been an addiction problem for me, but smoked pig? Hell yeah!
Sleep well people. Hope I do.
Hasta manana
R***
x
Work was cool. Had a few hole-punching related japes. You really have to work with a stationery obsessive to find that funny. "This is not A4!!!". Generally felt better about me and made a valid contribution. Also, having nothing to hide/fear makes the day much more pleasant. Walked out of work as my bus pulled up. Another winner!! May stick a couple of quid on England winning the test match. Maybe not.
That actually reminds me. Bob likes to stick crap bets on horses and spend Saturday afternoon watching them win/lose/ wander off and eat grass. 25p to win, £1.50 lucky 15's, that kind of thing. 5 hours entertainment for about a £5 outlay, plus tea and biscuits. I mentioned this to my brother in law when he asked how I was going to pass the weekends. "I'm off to Bob's to watch the racing, place a few bets. Nothing heavy". His reply absolutely killed me. "Uh, R***. Are you sure that's wise? You really don't want to be swapping one addiction with another". I explained the stakes. "You're going that big? That could be a £250 loss over a year!", he said nodding in a slightly patronising yet worldly way. "Can't you just watch without betting?".
I almost cried laughing. A 10p stake on a 10-1 is worth two hours of newspaper research, then the cheering, followed either by the celebratory running round a room, or more usual screwing up of a losing ticket and trying to "Jordan" it into a waste paper bin. I tried to explain how much I drank, how much I spent on booze, and he just couldn't compute it. It was well worth the £5. I think I was 50p up, less 99p biscuit expenditure. Bob provided the tea.
Anyway, came home from work, had a "hearty meal". Not great. Watched my youngest nephew smash the house up for a bit, and after that I arranged to go to Bob's a few hours time. Our mate is getting married next weekend and the stag is this coming one. It's in a Nautical city and we're hiring a galleon for a bit so "Pirates", is the only logical theme. In the meantime I found a pair of chino's I'd never seen before and announced that I was making shorts! I hacked these chino's up and they look pretty good. Ripped, frayed and generally a mess. Actually they sound a bit like my emotional state earlier in the week. Anyway, when I announced that I'd finished my mum asked "Aren't you going to neaten them up a bit?". "Why on earth would I do that?", I said."Well, they're really messy. There's bits hanging off that leg". "PIRATE THEME?????". "Oh, I just thought you were rubbish at cutting". No apology. To be fair she never needs to apologise to me for anything, ever.
I made my excuses and went round Bob's. We had a great time making piraty headscarves, sorting out outfits and having a laugh. I even persuaded him to hack up one of his old suit jackets. Turns out that it looked shit on him, but I looked pretty hot. The only downside is that the sword his dad had made me is now more of a dagger after a bathroom door incident. Win some, lose some.
Got to about 8:30 and we decided to drive up the local hill for a walk. Only takes two tunes to drive there so ideal. We spent an hour just wandering about, looking at the sunset, admiring the scenery and generally talking shit. I told him how things were with me, and he talked too. Made a resolution to do more exciting things in future. Planning more fishing, badminton, camping. Anything to get out the rut of pub olympics, followed by poker in Lenny's lounge. If we go to bars can they at least be interesting ones?
Dropped him off, then drove home. Have just attacked an Jamon Iberico and feel slightly sick. Gambling I can't see as been an addiction problem for me, but smoked pig? Hell yeah!
Sleep well people. Hope I do.
Hasta manana
R***
x
Wednesday 15 August 2012
Into the darkness, but I can see the light
Hi,
I've had a pretty shocking time of it recently but hopefully I'm coming through - for now.
Basically another slip up had me doubting that I could do this. The equations; drink = die, stop = live were mentioned in a much earlier post. It seemed to be clear. The fuck up's had me struggling me to understand how I couldn't do this. Surely I had enough self worth to make this choice? No, I didn't. If you don't value yourself enough to make this choice, then maybe you're right! How can anyone else value you? Assign you worth? Why? You don't. The depression started gripping me and I started to to think I should just give up. Why even try to put off the inevitable? It's pretty lonely when the only company you have is self loathing, self pity and Allie.
I pretty much stopped eating Thursday, and only grazed Friday. A banana and an apple is not enough to sustain a 6 foot 2 man. As my calorie count dropped, so did my will to carry on. I ate nothing over the weekend and just lay in the darkness, crying as my inner demons picked up the pace even more. I had a full panic attack on Sunday, with thrown in hallucinations, which was not nice. It sounds odd but I could hear my baby sister talking to me and saying what had being happening, and describing my bodily convulsions. This is odd because she lives abroad. Very weird. I couldn't eat again and passed another night twitching.
When Monday came I tried to get up for work. My body was failing me and my mind was shot. My stomach was now a hostile environment and the acid was making me vomit. After throwing up my breakfast I blacked out at the bus stop. I made it home and had to call the GP. They know me pretty well by now, and even though it was a different GP who called he was aware of my problem, and I think the notes helped. Basically - get your body well and your mind will follow. Anti-depressants would probably not be a good course of action for someone like me. Something for the stomach - to let you eat. Just eat. I managed a bit in the afternoon. But I was still to messed up on Tuesday.
Then my sister came over and my parents came back. They made me eat. They made me drink. They also made me have a shower, which was probably required. Dead skin was rubbing off - pretty grim. They talked to me for hours and wouldn't let me sit with just thoughts of Allie for company. "You can do this son". "It'll be ok". Actually mum's first words were "Why are you doing this to yourself? You're a bloody fool, R******! Why did you drink? I don't want to bury you. Stop sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and get up!!", but I think she was probably thinking my version. She said it later, anyway.
Yesterday morning I weighed in at 128lb, that's 58kg.
This morning I felt better and my stomach is settled, as I had at least 1000 calories yesterday. I've managed to return to work. And eat. I've managed my 2000 calories. Tomorrow we'll try for 2500. I was very fragile this morning; physically weak and the sadness was still there. And the fear. Never forget the fear. As the day has progressed I've got stronger, happier until now I think I can do this.
It's still a bit dark, but I can see the light. I just have to be so careful.
Thanks mum, dad, and both sisters, and all the rest of you. Hopefully I won't let me down, and I'll be around to piss you all off for a while longer.
I've had a pretty shocking time of it recently but hopefully I'm coming through - for now.
Basically another slip up had me doubting that I could do this. The equations; drink = die, stop = live were mentioned in a much earlier post. It seemed to be clear. The fuck up's had me struggling me to understand how I couldn't do this. Surely I had enough self worth to make this choice? No, I didn't. If you don't value yourself enough to make this choice, then maybe you're right! How can anyone else value you? Assign you worth? Why? You don't. The depression started gripping me and I started to to think I should just give up. Why even try to put off the inevitable? It's pretty lonely when the only company you have is self loathing, self pity and Allie.
I pretty much stopped eating Thursday, and only grazed Friday. A banana and an apple is not enough to sustain a 6 foot 2 man. As my calorie count dropped, so did my will to carry on. I ate nothing over the weekend and just lay in the darkness, crying as my inner demons picked up the pace even more. I had a full panic attack on Sunday, with thrown in hallucinations, which was not nice. It sounds odd but I could hear my baby sister talking to me and saying what had being happening, and describing my bodily convulsions. This is odd because she lives abroad. Very weird. I couldn't eat again and passed another night twitching.
When Monday came I tried to get up for work. My body was failing me and my mind was shot. My stomach was now a hostile environment and the acid was making me vomit. After throwing up my breakfast I blacked out at the bus stop. I made it home and had to call the GP. They know me pretty well by now, and even though it was a different GP who called he was aware of my problem, and I think the notes helped. Basically - get your body well and your mind will follow. Anti-depressants would probably not be a good course of action for someone like me. Something for the stomach - to let you eat. Just eat. I managed a bit in the afternoon. But I was still to messed up on Tuesday.
Then my sister came over and my parents came back. They made me eat. They made me drink. They also made me have a shower, which was probably required. Dead skin was rubbing off - pretty grim. They talked to me for hours and wouldn't let me sit with just thoughts of Allie for company. "You can do this son". "It'll be ok". Actually mum's first words were "Why are you doing this to yourself? You're a bloody fool, R******! Why did you drink? I don't want to bury you. Stop sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and get up!!", but I think she was probably thinking my version. She said it later, anyway.
Yesterday morning I weighed in at 128lb, that's 58kg.
This morning I felt better and my stomach is settled, as I had at least 1000 calories yesterday. I've managed to return to work. And eat. I've managed my 2000 calories. Tomorrow we'll try for 2500. I was very fragile this morning; physically weak and the sadness was still there. And the fear. Never forget the fear. As the day has progressed I've got stronger, happier until now I think I can do this.
It's still a bit dark, but I can see the light. I just have to be so careful.
Thanks mum, dad, and both sisters, and all the rest of you. Hopefully I won't let me down, and I'll be around to piss you all off for a while longer.
Sunday 12 August 2012
Introspection
Hey, how's it going? Apologies in advance - feel this just may be random ramblings.
I'm a bit concerned. I've been trying to think about it but I don't actually know me at all. I don't know who I am. When you've spent the last three or four days concentrating on one issue and fail to find any conclusions this is pretty worrying. I should know, for christ's sake. If I don't know who I am who else will?
Ok, let's look at the facts. People seem to like me. I have no idea why this is. I don't particularly like me to be honest. I've admitted that I've lied and underachieved for two decades. I am a carrier of misery. Maybe it's pity. I am proud that I have never set out to do any of this, and prouder still that I have never taken any pleasure in the pain I've caused. Should I see someone in pain I tend to cry. If anything the sadness has just fuelled more drinking. Maybe people see what could have been in themselves in me, and are just glad it isn't them. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything any more. Maybe it's because they know I love them too, unconditionally. And I do love you. Unconditionally. I hope you know that. No shit this time. I really do. Thank you to all of you who've tried to get hold of me of late. Friends, family. Some crazy Welsh girl who stalks my blog..............I can't believe I'm laughing at a time like this. The world should be more like this. A place where piglets and polar bears get on, and have crazy adventures. Nothing is impossible. Hopefully.
Oddly I also always seem to win. Not actually win, but near enough to keep some credit. Not by any outdated conventional manner, or even by score. It always seems to work out that just when literally everything has gone to shit something turns up. Ace on the river, being sober enough to nail an exam. Something always just turns up. Had a chat with a mate yesterday. I felt it best not to go to his daughters birthday party in this state. His dad tragically passed away a few years ago and I am sorry to say that he left the world with the view that I am an international class cricketer. I am however, pleased to say that I knew him a little. "He was a good man" seems a trite epitaph, but I can't think of a better or more fitting one, and it's more than I can hope for. He truly was. He came to watch us play cricket just the once. I was so hungover/drunk I forgot to move position at the end of the over leaving me about 10 yards away from a man with a bat who twatted a ball at me just as I lit a cigarette. There was no time for my team mates customary shouts of "For fucks sake M*****", as I dived full length to my left to catch a ball travelling at about 130 mph, whilst still smoking. This is me. Moments that last but I can't find any substance in me.
Who knows how this will end? My folks are back Tuesday and I can't wait. I need to just sleep. Recover and be something. Maybe that's what I'm scared of. Scared to be great. Scared to be good. The excuse when turning up to work drunk after splitting with my wife sums me up. "H***, I may be drunk but let's face it. I'm better at this job drunk than any other fucker is sober". No substance.
Sleep well. x
I'm a bit concerned. I've been trying to think about it but I don't actually know me at all. I don't know who I am. When you've spent the last three or four days concentrating on one issue and fail to find any conclusions this is pretty worrying. I should know, for christ's sake. If I don't know who I am who else will?
Ok, let's look at the facts. People seem to like me. I have no idea why this is. I don't particularly like me to be honest. I've admitted that I've lied and underachieved for two decades. I am a carrier of misery. Maybe it's pity. I am proud that I have never set out to do any of this, and prouder still that I have never taken any pleasure in the pain I've caused. Should I see someone in pain I tend to cry. If anything the sadness has just fuelled more drinking. Maybe people see what could have been in themselves in me, and are just glad it isn't them. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything any more. Maybe it's because they know I love them too, unconditionally. And I do love you. Unconditionally. I hope you know that. No shit this time. I really do. Thank you to all of you who've tried to get hold of me of late. Friends, family. Some crazy Welsh girl who stalks my blog..............I can't believe I'm laughing at a time like this. The world should be more like this. A place where piglets and polar bears get on, and have crazy adventures. Nothing is impossible. Hopefully.
Oddly I also always seem to win. Not actually win, but near enough to keep some credit. Not by any outdated conventional manner, or even by score. It always seems to work out that just when literally everything has gone to shit something turns up. Ace on the river, being sober enough to nail an exam. Something always just turns up. Had a chat with a mate yesterday. I felt it best not to go to his daughters birthday party in this state. His dad tragically passed away a few years ago and I am sorry to say that he left the world with the view that I am an international class cricketer. I am however, pleased to say that I knew him a little. "He was a good man" seems a trite epitaph, but I can't think of a better or more fitting one, and it's more than I can hope for. He truly was. He came to watch us play cricket just the once. I was so hungover/drunk I forgot to move position at the end of the over leaving me about 10 yards away from a man with a bat who twatted a ball at me just as I lit a cigarette. There was no time for my team mates customary shouts of "For fucks sake M*****", as I dived full length to my left to catch a ball travelling at about 130 mph, whilst still smoking. This is me. Moments that last but I can't find any substance in me.
Who knows how this will end? My folks are back Tuesday and I can't wait. I need to just sleep. Recover and be something. Maybe that's what I'm scared of. Scared to be great. Scared to be good. The excuse when turning up to work drunk after splitting with my wife sums me up. "H***, I may be drunk but let's face it. I'm better at this job drunk than any other fucker is sober". No substance.
Sleep well. x
Friday 10 August 2012
I've had enough.
I really can't deal with this. The only thing stopping me being a twat is the pain I've already caused. Any more is pushing it. Far too much. I don't think I'm strong enough on my own. This is really hurting. I don't know what to do and I want to cry all the time. Top tip. Find an alcoholic, and talk to them. See them every day. Help them. We are not bad people.
And I never felt so alone...............and so low........
My wonderful ex texted me today. Biggest regret of my life that I couldn't make her happy. Sometimes you lose, no matter what you try. Google Monte Casino for an example. It all goes to tit's.
And I never felt so alone...............and so low........
My wonderful ex texted me today. Biggest regret of my life that I couldn't make her happy. Sometimes you lose, no matter what you try. Google Monte Casino for an example. It all goes to tit's.
Thursday 9 August 2012
Fuck
I got hammered last night. Drunk to normal people is a squiffy state of mild confusion. I don't play games. I drink in a furious way to forget it all. I don't even remember what I'm forgetting. 4 can's of Stella, 4 pints (I can tell from the change) a shit load of rum, and then 2 bottles of red. Fuck. I can give you all the lies if you want. Eve upset me. She doesn't love me. Work was bad. I acccidentally insulted a director. Not my fault. He shouldn't have been a muppet.
No excuses. I fucked up.
Then my mate called. It's easy. I can do this. No, R***, it's not easy. You are lucky to have friends like that. He moaned at me for half an hour. I really appreciate that kind of thing. Right now I am hanging out my arse. Dying is too easy.
Thank you codeandcoke x. You mean the world to me
R***
No excuses. I fucked up.
Then my mate called. It's easy. I can do this. No, R***, it's not easy. You are lucky to have friends like that. He moaned at me for half an hour. I really appreciate that kind of thing. Right now I am hanging out my arse. Dying is too easy.
Thank you codeandcoke x. You mean the world to me
R***
Sunday 5 August 2012
I'm starting to assume that this weekend is just an elaborate hoax.......
I know the hidden camera's are there somewhere. Come out you fuckers!
Seconds after sending Eve a text explaining why I looked a bit down at lunch (she did ask) my phone flashed and came up with the legend "SIM Not Registered". I got a call the Thursday before last saying a free upgrade and a better contract were available, so I took it. I provided my address and then they asked for the address I was at when I registered the phone, for "security" reasons.
I've looked up "security" in the dictionary and am somewhat confused. Nowhere does it mention that "security", means that bell-ends will brilliantly try to deliver my phone to a place I don't live at anymore. Unsurprisingly, it was refused, because I don't fucking live there anymore. This would have prompted a phone call from many companies querying the delivery address, but apparently not from these. I just wonder where the courier managed to tie up his horse. Now they can't call me to inform me of their mistake, because my fucking phone doesn't work, mainly because of their mistake. I am moderately miffed. Possibly a tad more. In fact it's pretty fair to say that if Jeremy Beadle's ghost pops out a cupboard in a sec I won't be calling Egon, Ray, Winston and Pete for help. I'll just nut him!!!!
I probably need to calm down. On the bright side I can't call a locksmith to open the spirits cabinet, or order a pizza I don't want in order to get 12 cans of Stella, so it's another win. Anyone for ovaltine?
And no Allie, not tonight. You're a fucking ugly person and you're making me act the same.
God I hope Eve got/didn't get my message. Either way it's fucked. Nightmare!
This ends the public information broadcast on behalf of carphone warehouse.
Wankers!
Sleep well
Seconds after sending Eve a text explaining why I looked a bit down at lunch (she did ask) my phone flashed and came up with the legend "SIM Not Registered". I got a call the Thursday before last saying a free upgrade and a better contract were available, so I took it. I provided my address and then they asked for the address I was at when I registered the phone, for "security" reasons.
I've looked up "security" in the dictionary and am somewhat confused. Nowhere does it mention that "security", means that bell-ends will brilliantly try to deliver my phone to a place I don't live at anymore. Unsurprisingly, it was refused, because I don't fucking live there anymore. This would have prompted a phone call from many companies querying the delivery address, but apparently not from these. I just wonder where the courier managed to tie up his horse. Now they can't call me to inform me of their mistake, because my fucking phone doesn't work, mainly because of their mistake. I am moderately miffed. Possibly a tad more. In fact it's pretty fair to say that if Jeremy Beadle's ghost pops out a cupboard in a sec I won't be calling Egon, Ray, Winston and Pete for help. I'll just nut him!!!!
I probably need to calm down. On the bright side I can't call a locksmith to open the spirits cabinet, or order a pizza I don't want in order to get 12 cans of Stella, so it's another win. Anyone for ovaltine?
And no Allie, not tonight. You're a fucking ugly person and you're making me act the same.
God I hope Eve got/didn't get my message. Either way it's fucked. Nightmare!
This ends the public information broadcast on behalf of carphone warehouse.
Wankers!
Sleep well
Mixed weekend, and Allie's knocking......
Hey, how's it going? I've been better. In fact I'm writing this mainly because option "B", involves extending my right arm 19.5 inches to the spirit cabinet. Yes, I measured it. Sorry if this blog comes across as a bit all over the place, and a bit of a mess but that's how I'm feeling, so at least it's an honest reflection. Let's start at the beginning.......
Friday - Work was good. Went to the dog racing in the evening. Odd comment from a guy I work with when someone asked "are you drinking tonight M*****?". "No he fucking isn't!". He seems to think I'm ill when I drink, whereas I'm actually ill when I quit and curl up for 3 days and wish I was dead. Not a good start. Passed pretty uneventfully; My gambling worked out better than abysmal and I ended the night about a tenner up. Not going to buy a new car with that but it's better than being down. Winner. Went home and all I was thinking about was Saturday and lunch with Eve.
Saturday - Woke up early and printed directions. Our meeting place was between where she lives and my newly wed friends house where I staying that night. I printed directions and left at 10.30, to be there for 12.30. It's only an hour 20 away but those who know me will confirm that I could get lost in my sock drawer. To say I got lost is not strictly accurate. I admit that for much of the time I had no idea where the fuck I was but whenever I neared the point of turning round I'd spot a sign pointing me in the right direction. I got there in 75 minutes. This is surely a good omen! Lunch was great. We chatted, laughed, and smiled all the way through and three hours just flew. She was just as kind, funny, intelligent and pretty as I remembered. We said goodbye, and I drove to my mates. Again I had no idea where I was but I ended up in their village, found a place to stop (outside a church - good landmark!), and called. "You're opposite our road. Come down the hill and it's at the bottom". I am on fire!!! Nothing can go wrong. We had a coffee and went for a drive to their local town (it's actually a city but it's a cool, pretty, small one). We were all shit at crazy golf (I was joint 2nd - out of 3) and had a great time anyway. Our controversial "play it where it lies" rule made for a fascinating spectacle. Dinner was cool. Chicken and ribs, followed by chocolate fudge sundae. Everything was going great. Went back to watch a film and then it all went wrong, although I didn't know it. I sent a text. "Just watching a film, then bed. Hope you enjoyed today as much as I did. Have a great night and see you tomorrow. Sleep well x x ps i am full of sugar again :o)". I had enjoyed today and I was full of sugar. We'd been caning left over pick and mix from the wedding. I went to bed happy, looking forward to the morning.
Sunday - Awake at 6:30 again. Doesn't matter, only 6 hours until seeing Eve. You may have guessed by now that I really like this girl. I know! It was a shock to me too:o) Then, it started to go wrong. I got a text. "Hey r***, can we have a chat?". I may be no expert on these matters, but this not a good sign. I phoned. Basically she'd read my text and was worried that I felt about her differently to how she felt about me. It was at that moment that the great llama of love turned round and went HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!! When I came round I could see that bitch Allie sat in the saddle and laughing. Lunch was set anyway so, despite the sensible part of my brain screaming "this is really going to fuck you up - don't do it!!!", I went. The venue was a small village pub, in the middle of a localized mobile dead zone. I was a bit early (failed to get lost again), so arrived at 12:15. 12:30 came and went and the lady behind the bar was giving me sympathetic looks. I should never have asked for two menu's. Schoolboy error. It got to 13:00 and I decided to leave my previously isolated position at a table for two by the window as the pub was getting full and frankly, I was looking like a bit of a twat. I knew she wouldn't stand me up. She's too cool for that. I just hoped she was ok. I also hoped I was right.
I found an isolated table in the dark as far away from anyone else as possible and decided that if Eve didn't show by 1:30 I was going to order anyway. I may have been stood up but I wasn't missing lunch! I went out for a fag, and then came back in to finalise my decison at half one when she arrived. She'd got lost, run out of petrol and left me voice mails + texts. She was so apologetic I felt guilty. I may be many bad things, but I am a good judge of character. Actually I'm a terrible judge of character as I always see the best in people, but it's nice to be right sometimes. Lunch was really good and she was as lovely as she had been the day before. I just couldn't understand how it had gone wrong. Apparently we just didn't click. It clicked for me, big style. Fuck!!! To be honest, it's bloody easier if someone just thinks you're a twat. All hope is gone, and you'll never see them again. This wonderful girl is so honest that she would like to see me again, as friends, but had to tell me how she felt so she didn't lead me on. Kind and honest people will hurt you the most, because they try to spare you unneccesary pain and won't lie. Shit - I like her even more . I'm not into masochism I swear x. Then we said goodbye. Ouch.
"Therapy?" was probably a bad music choice.... I got horrifically lost on the way home, and ended up on the wrong side of a city I wasn't attempting to go to heading the wrong way down a motorway. Whenever I was in the right place I was in the wrong lane and they seemed to herd me away from the comfort of home and into the purgatory of an un-named hell whole of chav's, twats and roundabouts........... When your luck changes it really doesn't do it in fucking half measures.
Anyway, here's the deal. You give up drinking. You lose the depression and pessimism. You think it's going to be rosy. Maybe I read too much into a kiss from a girl (who'd been drinking) at a wedding. She was great, we got on and she'd kissed me. I really should have isolated the two. Drinking = kiss. Sober = get on really well. The downside is that whilst sober highs are amazing you have nothing to hide behind when it goes wrong. Everything becomes so polarised. Hopefully it'll settle down soon because this is fucking killing me. I just want a fucking break. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Allie's asking if I want to do her tonight, no strings attached. It's really tempting, I'm not going to lie to you. The saving grace is that I know she's a whore, and I'd rather be happy that I met a great girl called Eve, took a chance and it didn't work. Even if I feel like crying tonight. At least I didn't have to work out how to tell her I'm an alcoholic. That's not a saving grace. I wish I'd needed to. Fuck me this hurts.
R***
Friday - Work was good. Went to the dog racing in the evening. Odd comment from a guy I work with when someone asked "are you drinking tonight M*****?". "No he fucking isn't!". He seems to think I'm ill when I drink, whereas I'm actually ill when I quit and curl up for 3 days and wish I was dead. Not a good start. Passed pretty uneventfully; My gambling worked out better than abysmal and I ended the night about a tenner up. Not going to buy a new car with that but it's better than being down. Winner. Went home and all I was thinking about was Saturday and lunch with Eve.
Saturday - Woke up early and printed directions. Our meeting place was between where she lives and my newly wed friends house where I staying that night. I printed directions and left at 10.30, to be there for 12.30. It's only an hour 20 away but those who know me will confirm that I could get lost in my sock drawer. To say I got lost is not strictly accurate. I admit that for much of the time I had no idea where the fuck I was but whenever I neared the point of turning round I'd spot a sign pointing me in the right direction. I got there in 75 minutes. This is surely a good omen! Lunch was great. We chatted, laughed, and smiled all the way through and three hours just flew. She was just as kind, funny, intelligent and pretty as I remembered. We said goodbye, and I drove to my mates. Again I had no idea where I was but I ended up in their village, found a place to stop (outside a church - good landmark!), and called. "You're opposite our road. Come down the hill and it's at the bottom". I am on fire!!! Nothing can go wrong. We had a coffee and went for a drive to their local town (it's actually a city but it's a cool, pretty, small one). We were all shit at crazy golf (I was joint 2nd - out of 3) and had a great time anyway. Our controversial "play it where it lies" rule made for a fascinating spectacle. Dinner was cool. Chicken and ribs, followed by chocolate fudge sundae. Everything was going great. Went back to watch a film and then it all went wrong, although I didn't know it. I sent a text. "Just watching a film, then bed. Hope you enjoyed today as much as I did. Have a great night and see you tomorrow. Sleep well x x ps i am full of sugar again :o)". I had enjoyed today and I was full of sugar. We'd been caning left over pick and mix from the wedding. I went to bed happy, looking forward to the morning.
Sunday - Awake at 6:30 again. Doesn't matter, only 6 hours until seeing Eve. You may have guessed by now that I really like this girl. I know! It was a shock to me too:o) Then, it started to go wrong. I got a text. "Hey r***, can we have a chat?". I may be no expert on these matters, but this not a good sign. I phoned. Basically she'd read my text and was worried that I felt about her differently to how she felt about me. It was at that moment that the great llama of love turned round and went HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!! When I came round I could see that bitch Allie sat in the saddle and laughing. Lunch was set anyway so, despite the sensible part of my brain screaming "this is really going to fuck you up - don't do it!!!", I went. The venue was a small village pub, in the middle of a localized mobile dead zone. I was a bit early (failed to get lost again), so arrived at 12:15. 12:30 came and went and the lady behind the bar was giving me sympathetic looks. I should never have asked for two menu's. Schoolboy error. It got to 13:00 and I decided to leave my previously isolated position at a table for two by the window as the pub was getting full and frankly, I was looking like a bit of a twat. I knew she wouldn't stand me up. She's too cool for that. I just hoped she was ok. I also hoped I was right.
I found an isolated table in the dark as far away from anyone else as possible and decided that if Eve didn't show by 1:30 I was going to order anyway. I may have been stood up but I wasn't missing lunch! I went out for a fag, and then came back in to finalise my decison at half one when she arrived. She'd got lost, run out of petrol and left me voice mails + texts. She was so apologetic I felt guilty. I may be many bad things, but I am a good judge of character. Actually I'm a terrible judge of character as I always see the best in people, but it's nice to be right sometimes. Lunch was really good and she was as lovely as she had been the day before. I just couldn't understand how it had gone wrong. Apparently we just didn't click. It clicked for me, big style. Fuck!!! To be honest, it's bloody easier if someone just thinks you're a twat. All hope is gone, and you'll never see them again. This wonderful girl is so honest that she would like to see me again, as friends, but had to tell me how she felt so she didn't lead me on. Kind and honest people will hurt you the most, because they try to spare you unneccesary pain and won't lie. Shit - I like her even more . I'm not into masochism I swear x. Then we said goodbye. Ouch.
"Therapy?" was probably a bad music choice.... I got horrifically lost on the way home, and ended up on the wrong side of a city I wasn't attempting to go to heading the wrong way down a motorway. Whenever I was in the right place I was in the wrong lane and they seemed to herd me away from the comfort of home and into the purgatory of an un-named hell whole of chav's, twats and roundabouts........... When your luck changes it really doesn't do it in fucking half measures.
Anyway, here's the deal. You give up drinking. You lose the depression and pessimism. You think it's going to be rosy. Maybe I read too much into a kiss from a girl (who'd been drinking) at a wedding. She was great, we got on and she'd kissed me. I really should have isolated the two. Drinking = kiss. Sober = get on really well. The downside is that whilst sober highs are amazing you have nothing to hide behind when it goes wrong. Everything becomes so polarised. Hopefully it'll settle down soon because this is fucking killing me. I just want a fucking break. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Allie's asking if I want to do her tonight, no strings attached. It's really tempting, I'm not going to lie to you. The saving grace is that I know she's a whore, and I'd rather be happy that I met a great girl called Eve, took a chance and it didn't work. Even if I feel like crying tonight. At least I didn't have to work out how to tell her I'm an alcoholic. That's not a saving grace. I wish I'd needed to. Fuck me this hurts.
R***
Saturday 4 August 2012
Blood Test Results
Brief yet bloody huge to me!
All I'll give is what my results were in March, what they should be, and what they are now, followed by a brief editorial from my Dr..... I am a lucky puppy.
Alkaline phosphate levels; 360, 130-30, 91
ALT liver enzymes; 206, 40, 38
Gama GT; 700, 61, 40
As you can see I'm physically ok (the figures could still do with cutting down, but I'm in the safe zone). The worry is that I got ALT up from 17 to 38 in a few short weeks.
Lovely DR: "I'm really surprised by the results, and pleased. We'll book you in for the end of October for more bloods and a urine test".
Me: (Silent) "Fuuuuuuckkk"
Me; (Out loud). That sounds brilliant
Here's the life saver.....
Lovely Dr: "You do realise that you've been extremely fortunate this time? Next time you may not have that luck your side. You can never drink again".
She was so matter of fact, so calm. I'd told her the truth about my problem and now it's in black and white. From a medical point of view I am physically able to drink. Luckily this time I didn't see a specialist who only gave me that aspect. Mentally M*****, you cannot drink. You are an alcoholic. Learn to live with that. Otherwise we'll have this chat in three years and it won't be so pretty. I'm planning on sending pot plants to the surgery as a present.
More good news! Apparently the gynecomastia tissue on my nipples should subside. Fuck me. This day keeps getting better! I thought I had a kind of permanent booze tattoo. Thank god for that. They still hurt, by the way. I gave my Dr this blog address, and I apologised in advance for post 3. I was a bit angry....
I'm going to live. It's weird actually having to think that. All I have to do is make sure I spend my living alive....I've blown 17 years so I'd better make up for it. I think I'm going to start playing catch up.
Laters
R***
All I'll give is what my results were in March, what they should be, and what they are now, followed by a brief editorial from my Dr..... I am a lucky puppy.
Alkaline phosphate levels; 360, 130-30, 91
ALT liver enzymes; 206, 40, 38
Gama GT; 700, 61, 40
As you can see I'm physically ok (the figures could still do with cutting down, but I'm in the safe zone). The worry is that I got ALT up from 17 to 38 in a few short weeks.
Lovely DR: "I'm really surprised by the results, and pleased. We'll book you in for the end of October for more bloods and a urine test".
Me: (Silent) "Fuuuuuuckkk"
Me; (Out loud). That sounds brilliant
Here's the life saver.....
Lovely Dr: "You do realise that you've been extremely fortunate this time? Next time you may not have that luck your side. You can never drink again".
She was so matter of fact, so calm. I'd told her the truth about my problem and now it's in black and white. From a medical point of view I am physically able to drink. Luckily this time I didn't see a specialist who only gave me that aspect. Mentally M*****, you cannot drink. You are an alcoholic. Learn to live with that. Otherwise we'll have this chat in three years and it won't be so pretty. I'm planning on sending pot plants to the surgery as a present.
More good news! Apparently the gynecomastia tissue on my nipples should subside. Fuck me. This day keeps getting better! I thought I had a kind of permanent booze tattoo. Thank god for that. They still hurt, by the way. I gave my Dr this blog address, and I apologised in advance for post 3. I was a bit angry....
I'm going to live. It's weird actually having to think that. All I have to do is make sure I spend my living alive....I've blown 17 years so I'd better make up for it. I think I'm going to start playing catch up.
Laters
R***
Thursday 2 August 2012
Monday, until bloods....
So, almost up to date.......... Sorry it's taken song.
Monday - went to work after a heavy brakfast. Loved it. I am so much better straight. Causing problems (in a good way) about risk. Awesome. Allie is hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance. Not todat chuckles. Got hold of "The Big Man". He's changed numbers, but him and his lovely wife manged to get a babysitter for their child so they canhave a night o their own. Jiggeddy x. I riuned it all by meeting them in a pub before they went for the meal. Well, in my eyes. We all had a good chat, and I apologised for not being in touch for twoo months. Good news is that I drove and have an invite to their childs birthday party. I was told in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't have happened if I'd still been drinking. I'm keeping my promise to stop being a twat and make sure I see the important people a lot more. Came home, chatted to Eve and went to bed.
Tuesday - see Monday but was challenged to go to sleep at a normal hour by Eve.
Wednesday - Another early night. Work was great. I'd forgotten that I'm clever and have hidden behind being better than most. Shit -Flashback. My old boss once accused me of turning up at work whilst still drunk. My response? "That's a good point, and well made. I am, however, better at this shit pissed than anyone else in this team or company is sober. What can you do?". Apparently alcohol boosts the ego. I've never seen any evidence of that...... Ate enough risotto to kill a rhino. Went to bed scared. Blood test results tomorrow.
Fuck
Throughout this I've had to worry about Eve. My friends are telling me that she'll work it out herself, or that lots of people don't drink. Not a big deal. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!
Monday - went to work after a heavy brakfast. Loved it. I am so much better straight. Causing problems (in a good way) about risk. Awesome. Allie is hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance. Not todat chuckles. Got hold of "The Big Man". He's changed numbers, but him and his lovely wife manged to get a babysitter for their child so they canhave a night o their own. Jiggeddy x. I riuned it all by meeting them in a pub before they went for the meal. Well, in my eyes. We all had a good chat, and I apologised for not being in touch for twoo months. Good news is that I drove and have an invite to their childs birthday party. I was told in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't have happened if I'd still been drinking. I'm keeping my promise to stop being a twat and make sure I see the important people a lot more. Came home, chatted to Eve and went to bed.
Tuesday - see Monday but was challenged to go to sleep at a normal hour by Eve.
Wednesday - Another early night. Work was great. I'd forgotten that I'm clever and have hidden behind being better than most. Shit -Flashback. My old boss once accused me of turning up at work whilst still drunk. My response? "That's a good point, and well made. I am, however, better at this shit pissed than anyone else in this team or company is sober. What can you do?". Apparently alcohol boosts the ego. I've never seen any evidence of that...... Ate enough risotto to kill a rhino. Went to bed scared. Blood test results tomorrow.
Fuck
Throughout this I've had to worry about Eve. My friends are telling me that she'll work it out herself, or that lots of people don't drink. Not a big deal. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday 1 August 2012
Saturday and Sunday
Hello again. How was your weekend? Good I hope. Here's mine....
On Saturday I got up with the sun. Clear head, and only a brief stint of furniture moving to come. Literally one bit... Went online and saw a friend who'd moved away was back in town so sent a text to see what she had planned. Ok, I saw that she was home on Facebook. I'm not proud, but it's for handy keeping up with people - in a shit lazy way. She said she had some shopping to do so I got the furniture moving out the way and then she picked me up. Had a coffee, she bought a dress and I got a cd. Quite sad but I bought Florence & the Machine; Lungs. I lack the ability to appreciate any depth of quality in music. My friends can talk about riffs, rhythms and the rest but all I can do is asscoiate it with how it makes me feel, and any associated memories. Obviously I've always known that the cheeky girls, SClub 7 and, more recently, Carly Rae Jepson are shit so there is hope for me. I'm quite proud that I had to google the last one.
Ah, Florence. My ex introduced me to them and we saw them at Latitude. So many happy memories, and yet I feel sad every time I hear it. Nightmare. I've now got the rest of the day free and I'm fucking down. Shite! I could read a book, go up the hill, write a bit of this. Or I could have a drink. I'm finding that reading doesn't cut it as a distraction right now, and it's raining so the hill's out of the question. The view of clouds has never appealed to me. Well not from the inside. It's like an itch. Just have one Rich. One'll be ok. And so.......I wrote a post for this. Oddly I'm getting the same itch now, but it'll be ok. I've got you guys behind me, right?
I texted Lenny to see if he was about for a chat. He's getting a bit fucked off that I've told him I'm worried about him. I didn't say why, but here's the reply...........
"Thanks for your concern, and I understand why you feel the need to help given what you've been through recently. I'm a little baffled why I'm being singled out. Yes, I like a beer (who mentioned beer?), as do pretty much all our frinds. Do I drink heavily every day, no. And nor do they".
Fair point, but it seems that you drink every day, and heavily is subjective. I mentioned this and also the fact that even I haven't had to apologise for my behavior for years (and I'm the card carrying alcoholic), and nor has anyone else.
He seems to think it's all a blip..... Maybe I'm wrong, and he's right. Who knows? It appears that I've been told to mind my own business and look after my own shit. I'll try.
After that I got another text asking me "did you shag that girl at the wedding?". You may recall that I went through this with Lenny the previous Sunday. Memory loss in one so young, but I'm sure it's not the booze. Also, drinking heavily a few times a week does not count as "a few", if one of the them starts Friday at 5:30, and finishes at 11:00pm Sunday. Maybe it does. I think I only drank heavily once between 1995 and 2012.......
Sunday was good. I did some shopping and my elder sis came over with my nephews. Bless them. Sis commented on how clean and tidy the house was when she arrived, as well as how well I was looking. By the time they left the place was a mess, covered in boiled egg and I was knackered. Worth it though. Shame the weather was crap so we couldn't play outside.
Things like this worry me. In a dozen or so years time, maybe, the boys are going to ask "Uncle R****? Why don't you drink?". What the hell am I going to say? "I haven't drunk for a long time to make sure I got old enough for you to ask that question". Maybe I'll just show him this. When they're old enough to drink, they'll be old enough to know the dangers. This brings me on to Eve.
We've been chatting on Skype, exchanging texts and generally getting on well. It's so relaxing talking to her. Everything is just so chilled and natural. Every time she asks me what I've been up to or where I've been it seems I'm driving. "Can't they get another Chauffeur?", she asks. I'm seeing her this Saturday and Sunday, with a visit to my newly-wed friends in between. We will be incinerating animals, weather permitting. I'll be driving again, as it's a bit of a distance. I've got to tell her the truth soon, but how? I'm really scared. I like this girl a lot and I don't want to lose her before we even get started.
Allie fucked up my last two relationships, and now it seems her abscence could ruin this one too. If I wasn't so sad I'd laugh out loud. Actually, I'm now crying a bit and laughing because it's so ridiculous. Why me? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't ask for this. I just want to able to be like everyone else.
The rest of Sunday was happily wasted; washing up, reading, pretending I'm Steven Gerrard in the garden. Bed
On Saturday I got up with the sun. Clear head, and only a brief stint of furniture moving to come. Literally one bit... Went online and saw a friend who'd moved away was back in town so sent a text to see what she had planned. Ok, I saw that she was home on Facebook. I'm not proud, but it's for handy keeping up with people - in a shit lazy way. She said she had some shopping to do so I got the furniture moving out the way and then she picked me up. Had a coffee, she bought a dress and I got a cd. Quite sad but I bought Florence & the Machine; Lungs. I lack the ability to appreciate any depth of quality in music. My friends can talk about riffs, rhythms and the rest but all I can do is asscoiate it with how it makes me feel, and any associated memories. Obviously I've always known that the cheeky girls, SClub 7 and, more recently, Carly Rae Jepson are shit so there is hope for me. I'm quite proud that I had to google the last one.
Ah, Florence. My ex introduced me to them and we saw them at Latitude. So many happy memories, and yet I feel sad every time I hear it. Nightmare. I've now got the rest of the day free and I'm fucking down. Shite! I could read a book, go up the hill, write a bit of this. Or I could have a drink. I'm finding that reading doesn't cut it as a distraction right now, and it's raining so the hill's out of the question. The view of clouds has never appealed to me. Well not from the inside. It's like an itch. Just have one Rich. One'll be ok. And so.......I wrote a post for this. Oddly I'm getting the same itch now, but it'll be ok. I've got you guys behind me, right?
I texted Lenny to see if he was about for a chat. He's getting a bit fucked off that I've told him I'm worried about him. I didn't say why, but here's the reply...........
"Thanks for your concern, and I understand why you feel the need to help given what you've been through recently. I'm a little baffled why I'm being singled out. Yes, I like a beer (who mentioned beer?), as do pretty much all our frinds. Do I drink heavily every day, no. And nor do they".
Fair point, but it seems that you drink every day, and heavily is subjective. I mentioned this and also the fact that even I haven't had to apologise for my behavior for years (and I'm the card carrying alcoholic), and nor has anyone else.
He seems to think it's all a blip..... Maybe I'm wrong, and he's right. Who knows? It appears that I've been told to mind my own business and look after my own shit. I'll try.
After that I got another text asking me "did you shag that girl at the wedding?". You may recall that I went through this with Lenny the previous Sunday. Memory loss in one so young, but I'm sure it's not the booze. Also, drinking heavily a few times a week does not count as "a few", if one of the them starts Friday at 5:30, and finishes at 11:00pm Sunday. Maybe it does. I think I only drank heavily once between 1995 and 2012.......
Sunday was good. I did some shopping and my elder sis came over with my nephews. Bless them. Sis commented on how clean and tidy the house was when she arrived, as well as how well I was looking. By the time they left the place was a mess, covered in boiled egg and I was knackered. Worth it though. Shame the weather was crap so we couldn't play outside.
Things like this worry me. In a dozen or so years time, maybe, the boys are going to ask "Uncle R****? Why don't you drink?". What the hell am I going to say? "I haven't drunk for a long time to make sure I got old enough for you to ask that question". Maybe I'll just show him this. When they're old enough to drink, they'll be old enough to know the dangers. This brings me on to Eve.
We've been chatting on Skype, exchanging texts and generally getting on well. It's so relaxing talking to her. Everything is just so chilled and natural. Every time she asks me what I've been up to or where I've been it seems I'm driving. "Can't they get another Chauffeur?", she asks. I'm seeing her this Saturday and Sunday, with a visit to my newly-wed friends in between. We will be incinerating animals, weather permitting. I'll be driving again, as it's a bit of a distance. I've got to tell her the truth soon, but how? I'm really scared. I like this girl a lot and I don't want to lose her before we even get started.
Allie fucked up my last two relationships, and now it seems her abscence could ruin this one too. If I wasn't so sad I'd laugh out loud. Actually, I'm now crying a bit and laughing because it's so ridiculous. Why me? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't ask for this. I just want to able to be like everyone else.
The rest of Sunday was happily wasted; washing up, reading, pretending I'm Steven Gerrard in the garden. Bed
Monday 30 July 2012
Week two......Monday to Friday
Hi again. Here's (hopefully) an attempt to get up to date. I've got a new thing I've started doing each morning. Whereas before I'd time getting up each morning for work to the minute, 8:05, to incorporate; shower, dress, eat, brush teeth and run to the bus stop with a target arrival time at the office of 8:58, I've now decided to used my inability to sleep as a positive.The day now goes; wake up 5:30 or 6:00. Snooze or read for a bit, and then get up around 7:00. Have a shower, then turn on the stereo, preferably to indie, metal or something else that needs to be played loud. Adjust the volume accordingly. It's important to get the balance right between "Nightclub vibe", and "Blowing speaker". I then dance around in my pants/dressing gown for a bit eating breakfast and having a coffee. Then it's get dressed, followed by a fag. Another coffee, check my mail and then stroll to the bus stop with the intention of arriving at work 20 - 30 minutes early so I can break into the day gently.
This seems a ridiculous thing to be sharing but it demonstrates a real change of attitude for me. I don't skulk into the office anymore, and try to hide. I'm welcoming each day at full volume and I'm not hiding from anyone or anything. Why should I? I know my problems and I'm facing them. If, god forbid, I fuck up again I'll have to face it. I don't want to hide. I've got too much living to catch up on.
Anyway, back to last Monday. Work was great. Everyone was great. I felt intelligent before 10:00am, and not worried that my breath would stink of beer/wine/rum so I've also saved on mint expenditure. It's a win all round! I was also able to get the coffees in without the fear of someone seeing my hands shaking. The day passed pretty quickly and I generally enjoyed it. No hangover, or counting down to 5 so I could go to the pub. All good! My mate came over in the evening and I cooked him dinner, then we went for a walk up the hill before watching the sun go down from the pub garden. I love elderflower cordial!
The working week has pretty much been the same all the way through with a few extra's in the evening. Tuesday was great. The couple who got married ("Artie" and "Lottie"), a friend who was over from Australia for the wedding ("Bruce") and myself went to the pub we first started drinking in for dinner. It's so cool spending time with these guys. I was driving so on the soft drinks, as was Lottie. The boys hit the lager/cider. Apparently it was a last chance for Bruce to get a decent beer before his next trip to the UK in a years time. The food was good, the company great, and we reminisced over a few stories from years gone by. I did notice that almost all of them involved booze, and the vast majority involved too much booze, so it was a wierd one to look back on. Last orders was called and I see the two guys nursing an inch of beer each and looking sheepish. "For fuck's sake just go to the bar and get a pint. You're depressing me!!". I dropped them off and found my resolution from Sunday strengthened. I need to stop being such a dick and visit my friends more. Obviously Bruce in Oz isn't having me turn up on his doorstep anytime soon, but the ones who live an hour or an 90 minutes away are going to see a lot more of me.
The main alcohol recovery point of the week was on Wednesday. I had my first blood test that morning and the Dr is calling with my results on Thursday, so I'll post them then. I think this routine is going to continue on a fortnightly cycle for the forseeable future so I'll keep posting them so you can follow my progress.
Lenny cancelled me Wednesday and Thursday and I was going out with some guys from work on Friday. I think Lenny has an idea why I want to talk to him, and he's scared of another lecture. Bizarely it'll be the first from me. You have to help yourself before you can be helped by others. More on this next time.
Ah, Friday. We had a chilli eating competition at work as part of "National Stereotypes Day". Our team were Mexico. I came joint first, but sadly that exaulted position was shared by 6 of the 10 entrants. They ran out of chillies. Shame - I was on fire!
Pub crawls are not designed for the non-drinker. Frankly I don't want to neck a pint of lemonade every 30 minutes. It's just annoying. Worse still, you still have to buy a round. A lemonade an hour is good enough for me and I can't see the point of leaving a perfectly comfortable pub to go to one where you may not get a seat. I had similar views when I was drinking, but my main objection was drinking at the pace of the majority and not my own, so I'd often double up. As previously mention, it's at the 4/5 pint point that people get annoying. The Olympic Opening Ceremony provides plenty of scope for casual racism, and that's one thing I can't abide. Heres why.
Before I moved (so about 7) I was put up a year at school. Racism had never occured to me, but this was where the most shameful (sober) episode of my life took place. One lunchtime the boys I was friends with decided to have a go at an asian kid. I remember his name to this day. Prakesh Patel. "Prakesh, is a shit, Prakesh is a shit" and repeat. I didn't join in. I knew it was wrong, but didn't understand why. I was worse than them. I did nothing. Nothing at all. Too scared to stand up to my friends. I got bollocked big style by the Deputy Head but I still didn't get it. I saw Prakesh on the way out of school and ran over to him. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything", he said. "Anyway, I'm used to it". He shook my hand and walked away with his head held high. "I'm used to it", aged fucking seven? I really hope he's having a great life. I've never known such mature humility in someone so young. I remember him every time I hear some twat mouthing off and I feel shame, and anger.
Anyway, every time a choir or crowd shot included a black or asian person one of these guys would pipe up with "Oooh, theres one". It got worse when all the nations athletes walked in. Maybe they thought that's what lads do on a night out. Two of us were really uncomfortable with this. They certainly didn't seem to register our complaints, discomfort or embarrassment. If they did, the chose to do fuck all about it. The "Highlight", of the evening, aside from the racism, was the lad who responded to the barmaid's question "It's time in two minutes. Would you like anything else?". I'm assuming you can fill in the answer yourself....
So, top tip. If going out with people who are drinking that you don't know that well, always frisk them thoroughly for Klan hats and check if their knuckles are scraping on the floor at the start of the evening. It saves a lot of embarrassment later on.
Laters
This seems a ridiculous thing to be sharing but it demonstrates a real change of attitude for me. I don't skulk into the office anymore, and try to hide. I'm welcoming each day at full volume and I'm not hiding from anyone or anything. Why should I? I know my problems and I'm facing them. If, god forbid, I fuck up again I'll have to face it. I don't want to hide. I've got too much living to catch up on.
Anyway, back to last Monday. Work was great. Everyone was great. I felt intelligent before 10:00am, and not worried that my breath would stink of beer/wine/rum so I've also saved on mint expenditure. It's a win all round! I was also able to get the coffees in without the fear of someone seeing my hands shaking. The day passed pretty quickly and I generally enjoyed it. No hangover, or counting down to 5 so I could go to the pub. All good! My mate came over in the evening and I cooked him dinner, then we went for a walk up the hill before watching the sun go down from the pub garden. I love elderflower cordial!
The working week has pretty much been the same all the way through with a few extra's in the evening. Tuesday was great. The couple who got married ("Artie" and "Lottie"), a friend who was over from Australia for the wedding ("Bruce") and myself went to the pub we first started drinking in for dinner. It's so cool spending time with these guys. I was driving so on the soft drinks, as was Lottie. The boys hit the lager/cider. Apparently it was a last chance for Bruce to get a decent beer before his next trip to the UK in a years time. The food was good, the company great, and we reminisced over a few stories from years gone by. I did notice that almost all of them involved booze, and the vast majority involved too much booze, so it was a wierd one to look back on. Last orders was called and I see the two guys nursing an inch of beer each and looking sheepish. "For fuck's sake just go to the bar and get a pint. You're depressing me!!". I dropped them off and found my resolution from Sunday strengthened. I need to stop being such a dick and visit my friends more. Obviously Bruce in Oz isn't having me turn up on his doorstep anytime soon, but the ones who live an hour or an 90 minutes away are going to see a lot more of me.
The main alcohol recovery point of the week was on Wednesday. I had my first blood test that morning and the Dr is calling with my results on Thursday, so I'll post them then. I think this routine is going to continue on a fortnightly cycle for the forseeable future so I'll keep posting them so you can follow my progress.
Lenny cancelled me Wednesday and Thursday and I was going out with some guys from work on Friday. I think Lenny has an idea why I want to talk to him, and he's scared of another lecture. Bizarely it'll be the first from me. You have to help yourself before you can be helped by others. More on this next time.
Ah, Friday. We had a chilli eating competition at work as part of "National Stereotypes Day". Our team were Mexico. I came joint first, but sadly that exaulted position was shared by 6 of the 10 entrants. They ran out of chillies. Shame - I was on fire!
Pub crawls are not designed for the non-drinker. Frankly I don't want to neck a pint of lemonade every 30 minutes. It's just annoying. Worse still, you still have to buy a round. A lemonade an hour is good enough for me and I can't see the point of leaving a perfectly comfortable pub to go to one where you may not get a seat. I had similar views when I was drinking, but my main objection was drinking at the pace of the majority and not my own, so I'd often double up. As previously mention, it's at the 4/5 pint point that people get annoying. The Olympic Opening Ceremony provides plenty of scope for casual racism, and that's one thing I can't abide. Heres why.
Before I moved (so about 7) I was put up a year at school. Racism had never occured to me, but this was where the most shameful (sober) episode of my life took place. One lunchtime the boys I was friends with decided to have a go at an asian kid. I remember his name to this day. Prakesh Patel. "Prakesh, is a shit, Prakesh is a shit" and repeat. I didn't join in. I knew it was wrong, but didn't understand why. I was worse than them. I did nothing. Nothing at all. Too scared to stand up to my friends. I got bollocked big style by the Deputy Head but I still didn't get it. I saw Prakesh on the way out of school and ran over to him. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything", he said. "Anyway, I'm used to it". He shook my hand and walked away with his head held high. "I'm used to it", aged fucking seven? I really hope he's having a great life. I've never known such mature humility in someone so young. I remember him every time I hear some twat mouthing off and I feel shame, and anger.
Anyway, every time a choir or crowd shot included a black or asian person one of these guys would pipe up with "Oooh, theres one". It got worse when all the nations athletes walked in. Maybe they thought that's what lads do on a night out. Two of us were really uncomfortable with this. They certainly didn't seem to register our complaints, discomfort or embarrassment. If they did, the chose to do fuck all about it. The "Highlight", of the evening, aside from the racism, was the lad who responded to the barmaid's question "It's time in two minutes. Would you like anything else?". I'm assuming you can fill in the answer yourself....
So, top tip. If going out with people who are drinking that you don't know that well, always frisk them thoroughly for Klan hats and check if their knuckles are scraping on the floor at the start of the evening. It saves a lot of embarrassment later on.
Laters
Sunday 29 July 2012
Quitting the booze - Hell is other people
Still with me? Cool.
So, you've accepted your problem and decided to quit. Well done. Big first step made. Here's the problems I found, and maybe you will to. Having booze in the house isn't an issue for me. When I was drinking this is the place I'd finish off the night, not start it, but as my problem is an inablility to stop I'm good as long as I don't start. Also, I really don't fucking want it. You can empty your house of wine, beer, liquor - vinegar even, but if you want a drink the chances are there's a supermarket, a 24/7 or an all night garage within walking distance of where you live. If you haven't been drinking then you can drive and let's face it, most people now live within a 10 minute drive of a booze supplier. If you want to, you will. End of. But we don't want to drink any more, so it's not an issue.
A big issue is time; It moves more slowly when you aren't with Allie. She's a treacherous using bitch, but at least she knew how to kill the hours of a day. This is not neccessarily a good thing. Add to this the sleep problems and you suddenly have a lot of time on your hands. Fill it with something that's for you. Use your booze money to cook great meals. Write a book, start a blog (feel free to link to this one and I'll do the same for you. We can start a community). Read a book. Take up jogging. Sign up to that OU course that you always wanted to do. Go for walks. See friends who live a little bit too far away to get to using public transport. Start volunteering for a charity. Just do something. You're taking your life back - fill it with things that are worthwhile.
Cool. So that's us sorted, yeah? Awesome. We don't need that shit anymore and I hope we're all pretty happy in ourselves about the choices and the progress that we've made. I know I am. It is a bit weird skipping the booze aisle in Tesco's at first, but in a good way. Apparently I shake my head and give a whistful smile when I walk past it, remembering who Allie made me become. Now we come to the hard bit.
OTHER PEOPLE!!!!!
They don't know man - they weren't there! Hopefully you've told your close friends and family what's going on with your life at the minute, so you drinking soft drinks when you're out won't be a surprise. Their reaction can be a bit cringeworthy though. The first time I quit I met a load of my mates in a pub after work to have a chat about what was happening and why, and they all ordered coke. I bet most of them can't even remember the last time they ordered a soft drink in a pub. Fucking hilarious. I really appreciated the sentiment but did they honestly think that the sight of someone drinking a pint would make me vault the bar and start smashing back the sambuca? Could they really believe that I'd spend the next 50 years of my life (fingers crossed) and expect to never see anyone with an alcoholic drink again? You have to give them all 10/10 for effort and I was overwhelmed by the support but I know deep down that as soon as they all left that place they were all thinking "Fuck me, that was hell. I'm going for a pint!!!". Love 'em. Next time I saw them out I made a point of buying a round. If I can buy it and carry it back from the bar and still not go mental I think you're pretty safe to drink it in front of me. This is my problem
The only time your friends get annoying is when they cross that "Happy place line". You either get pissed up hugs, with "I love you man. You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. To be honest, I didn't think you could fucking do this!!". Cheers big man - you know who you are! Even then it does make you feel good. A kind sentiment, even if the delivery was abysmal. Then you've got Lenny, of course. It's bad enough to view when you're drunk too, but seeing it through the eyes of stone cold sobriety makes you wonder what the hell you were like. I might film him one night, just so he can see for himself.
To be honest I quite like driving to town at a weekend. I've got the freedom to go as early or as late as I want, although I normally choose the late option. No cab fees and you generally get a few soft drinks bought for you in exchange for a lift home. I can have just as good a time. The only time you feel left out is the shots. It's not the booze - it's the fact that all the other 7 or 8 people have a clink and you don't. It's strange how that still effects me. For that moment I become alone again. An outsider, just viewing from the periphery. They ought to do non-alcoholic shooters. Just aniseed cordial or something. You still get the clink of togetherness and the evil taste, but just no alcohol. I may suggest this!
Casual aquaintances are a bigger problem. The bloke you talk to in the pub watching cricket, the person you talk to about fishing. Your work mate who has always only ever seen you out on the lash at team do's. How do you explain the drink with straws and umbrellas. None of your options are particularly appealing.
Finally, just enjoy it. Seeing the world sober again may be a strange experience for you at the start, but it's not that scary. Just sit back and enjoy the caberet.
Take care, and I'll be back soon.
So, you've accepted your problem and decided to quit. Well done. Big first step made. Here's the problems I found, and maybe you will to. Having booze in the house isn't an issue for me. When I was drinking this is the place I'd finish off the night, not start it, but as my problem is an inablility to stop I'm good as long as I don't start. Also, I really don't fucking want it. You can empty your house of wine, beer, liquor - vinegar even, but if you want a drink the chances are there's a supermarket, a 24/7 or an all night garage within walking distance of where you live. If you haven't been drinking then you can drive and let's face it, most people now live within a 10 minute drive of a booze supplier. If you want to, you will. End of. But we don't want to drink any more, so it's not an issue.
A big issue is time; It moves more slowly when you aren't with Allie. She's a treacherous using bitch, but at least she knew how to kill the hours of a day. This is not neccessarily a good thing. Add to this the sleep problems and you suddenly have a lot of time on your hands. Fill it with something that's for you. Use your booze money to cook great meals. Write a book, start a blog (feel free to link to this one and I'll do the same for you. We can start a community). Read a book. Take up jogging. Sign up to that OU course that you always wanted to do. Go for walks. See friends who live a little bit too far away to get to using public transport. Start volunteering for a charity. Just do something. You're taking your life back - fill it with things that are worthwhile.
Cool. So that's us sorted, yeah? Awesome. We don't need that shit anymore and I hope we're all pretty happy in ourselves about the choices and the progress that we've made. I know I am. It is a bit weird skipping the booze aisle in Tesco's at first, but in a good way. Apparently I shake my head and give a whistful smile when I walk past it, remembering who Allie made me become. Now we come to the hard bit.
OTHER PEOPLE!!!!!
They don't know man - they weren't there! Hopefully you've told your close friends and family what's going on with your life at the minute, so you drinking soft drinks when you're out won't be a surprise. Their reaction can be a bit cringeworthy though. The first time I quit I met a load of my mates in a pub after work to have a chat about what was happening and why, and they all ordered coke. I bet most of them can't even remember the last time they ordered a soft drink in a pub. Fucking hilarious. I really appreciated the sentiment but did they honestly think that the sight of someone drinking a pint would make me vault the bar and start smashing back the sambuca? Could they really believe that I'd spend the next 50 years of my life (fingers crossed) and expect to never see anyone with an alcoholic drink again? You have to give them all 10/10 for effort and I was overwhelmed by the support but I know deep down that as soon as they all left that place they were all thinking "Fuck me, that was hell. I'm going for a pint!!!". Love 'em. Next time I saw them out I made a point of buying a round. If I can buy it and carry it back from the bar and still not go mental I think you're pretty safe to drink it in front of me. This is my problem
The only time your friends get annoying is when they cross that "Happy place line". You either get pissed up hugs, with "I love you man. You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. To be honest, I didn't think you could fucking do this!!". Cheers big man - you know who you are! Even then it does make you feel good. A kind sentiment, even if the delivery was abysmal. Then you've got Lenny, of course. It's bad enough to view when you're drunk too, but seeing it through the eyes of stone cold sobriety makes you wonder what the hell you were like. I might film him one night, just so he can see for himself.
To be honest I quite like driving to town at a weekend. I've got the freedom to go as early or as late as I want, although I normally choose the late option. No cab fees and you generally get a few soft drinks bought for you in exchange for a lift home. I can have just as good a time. The only time you feel left out is the shots. It's not the booze - it's the fact that all the other 7 or 8 people have a clink and you don't. It's strange how that still effects me. For that moment I become alone again. An outsider, just viewing from the periphery. They ought to do non-alcoholic shooters. Just aniseed cordial or something. You still get the clink of togetherness and the evil taste, but just no alcohol. I may suggest this!
Casual aquaintances are a bigger problem. The bloke you talk to in the pub watching cricket, the person you talk to about fishing. Your work mate who has always only ever seen you out on the lash at team do's. How do you explain the drink with straws and umbrellas. None of your options are particularly appealing.
- I'm in training/on a diet. By the time the half marathon that you said you were entering comes round they'll have forgotten about it and just be used to the soft drinks.
- Tell the truth a) I know we agreed at the start "no more lies", but let's not push it! Most people see an alcoholic as all the stereotypes in the press. "Bottle of whisky before he goes to work", "Baileys on the Rice Crispies", "Takes a hip flask to keep him going when he popped out to buy a paper", etc. They will also regale you with tales of a "Proper alcoholic", that they once knew, as if belittling your problems. This does nothing for how well you feel you are doing. Fitting into peoples view of a "Proper alcoholic" generally means three bottles of whisky a day, living in your own shit and being dead by 40. No one needs to be told that they don't have a "Real" problem when they know they do. They just don't fucking get it, so let's not take this route. Far too much hassle, and people like to stick you in a box. "That's R***. He's an alcoholic you know". "We'll I never! He's got a job and wears a suit and everything. Goes to show you never can tell though". "Well, I always thought there was something a bit odd about him!". Ironically the more pissed they get, the more likely they are to talk. The worlds quite a funny place, when you think about.
- Tell the truth b) "I'm taking a break for a bit. I just don't feel like drinking at the moment". The fact that our definition of "A bit", is hopefully the rest of our natural lives is beside the point. It'll be old news in a few weeks anyway.
- Lie - say you are on medication. You probably will be at the start, so only a little lie.
Finally, just enjoy it. Seeing the world sober again may be a strange experience for you at the start, but it's not that scary. Just sit back and enjoy the caberet.
Take care, and I'll be back soon.
Saturday 28 July 2012
Q & AA's
Hi,
My friends have been helping me since I chose to write this. In fact they are probably the only ones reading it. One of them sent me a mail after post 2, and now it's time for some answers.
1) Was there anything we could have done to help or kill Allie early on?
To be honest, no. I was young, I liked going out and I liked to party. I thought I was having fun but after a while it was just another routine. When I was 22 I could go out until 4 am, and still get into work for 9. It wasn't a problem. I was "Having fun". The age increased but the attitude didn't. If you'd seen me day in, day out you could have said something but no one can help you, except yourself.
2) What happens in your head when you go out to bar a now?
Normally "HOW MUCH????", when a soft drink is on a par with a pint. What a great way to promote responsible drinking. Even the beer in pubs is expensive compared to drinking at home. No wonder people get lashed up before they go out, then end up on TV in "Britains Drunken Youth" or similar. Drunk people are very annoying, however. "Yeah, yeah, but mate, but, yeah, mate.....". I think that was one of my catch phrases. I can still go to a bar. I just have a more limited drinks menu. It's not a temptation. Instead of typing this now I could go to Tesco and get a box of wine. Same thing. Pub crawls are annoying because I don't want to neck a pint of lemonade every half hour, but what can you do?
3) You have a great game face (like at the wedding), how do you keep it up?
Seriously, it's not an act. In that case specifically I was having a great time with my new found freedom and I was surrounded by people I loved, so I just went for it. Sometimes it helps to not give a shit what people think of you, as long as no one gets hurt. I'm happy again, and I want to share it. I think that it shows.
4) Whats the worst thing you've done?
A few spring to mind. Lying to my Dr was pretty heavy. That was a real eye opener of how much of a hold on me that the booze had, has, and probably always will have. I mean, seriously? WTF?
June 22 1996 was pretty bad. England played spain and I had a few with my dad at the local, then ended up in Bristol to see a mate from home at his Uni. Drinking on the way, obviously. DL drove as always. I got to 20 pints and hurled down the stairs of "The Mars Bar".When we got back to his halls I had another two pints, passed out and pissed myself in the kitchen. Not ideal.
A few months after that I was sick in a urinal halfway through my eleventh pint. I washed my mouth out, finished my drink, bought another and then went back to a mates where I drank/snorted 3/4 of a bottle of uzo. My mum found me unconcious on the step in a pool of my own piss. I was blue from the cold and covered in blood from where I'd smashed my face on the wall of the house. I did not make the wedding I was meant to be attending. My mum was so angry, and maternally distraught. I can't believe I did that to her.
To be honest there are so many. I've slept with the wrong girl at a party by mistake when I went to the wrong bedroom on the way back from the loo. How fucked do you have to be to not be able to tell which of the two girls you snogged you'd ended up with? She liked me anyway and thought I had finally come to see her, so no harm done, but her mate was asleep by the time I realised what was going on and found the correct room. We slept together in the morning. Very awkward when I next saw them both out together.
You've probably heard more than I can remember.
Easily the worst is choosing to drink wine or go to a pub instead of spending time with my ex partners. If it comes down to a choice between an early night in bed with the beautiful woman that you love, or a night on the piss with Allie and the choice takes 2 seconds before you pick the booze you really have problems. I didn't do enough to return their love and in the end that drove them away. I'm so sorry.
5) Have you ever admitted it to anyone before?
Do you mean the bad things? Pretty much but where there are no witnesses I tend to leave out nocturnal incontinence.
6) Have you ever met another fan of Allie on your travels?
A few. I met an Irish guy in Ecuador. He was taking a year off it and I took the piss. What I actually meant was "Why can't I do that?". There was another, again in Ecuador. He was a biologist, or similar. When we first met him he wasn't drinking, but after a while he was getting as pissed as me. He went a bit nuts in the jungle and started talking pigeon to the fluent english speaking guide and the two Pakistani guys who both worked for the US government and had oxford equivalent educations. "What buuurd?". "With yella bik?". It could have been the lack of liquor, because it was hitting me a bit hard too. He's the guy who helped me get the aguadente in the rainforest. He was really sound and we got on really well. Maybe we understood something about each other that no-one else got. I'll mail him and check he's ok. I've been meaning to for a while. * I'll come back to this. He kindly got back to me with "That's one hell of a way to say hi!!!". Show's I know fuck all. I'm glad to be wrong.
7) What were the first signs you knew you couldn't stop?
I've always known. I just never admitted it to myself. "Hair of the dog", "Being hardcore", and "I fear no beer", were all great lines, but actually just another reason to have another drink and get fucked again.
Hope this helps..
Laters
My friends have been helping me since I chose to write this. In fact they are probably the only ones reading it. One of them sent me a mail after post 2, and now it's time for some answers.
1) Was there anything we could have done to help or kill Allie early on?
To be honest, no. I was young, I liked going out and I liked to party. I thought I was having fun but after a while it was just another routine. When I was 22 I could go out until 4 am, and still get into work for 9. It wasn't a problem. I was "Having fun". The age increased but the attitude didn't. If you'd seen me day in, day out you could have said something but no one can help you, except yourself.
2) What happens in your head when you go out to bar a now?
Normally "HOW MUCH????", when a soft drink is on a par with a pint. What a great way to promote responsible drinking. Even the beer in pubs is expensive compared to drinking at home. No wonder people get lashed up before they go out, then end up on TV in "Britains Drunken Youth" or similar. Drunk people are very annoying, however. "Yeah, yeah, but mate, but, yeah, mate.....". I think that was one of my catch phrases. I can still go to a bar. I just have a more limited drinks menu. It's not a temptation. Instead of typing this now I could go to Tesco and get a box of wine. Same thing. Pub crawls are annoying because I don't want to neck a pint of lemonade every half hour, but what can you do?
3) You have a great game face (like at the wedding), how do you keep it up?
Seriously, it's not an act. In that case specifically I was having a great time with my new found freedom and I was surrounded by people I loved, so I just went for it. Sometimes it helps to not give a shit what people think of you, as long as no one gets hurt. I'm happy again, and I want to share it. I think that it shows.
4) Whats the worst thing you've done?
A few spring to mind. Lying to my Dr was pretty heavy. That was a real eye opener of how much of a hold on me that the booze had, has, and probably always will have. I mean, seriously? WTF?
June 22 1996 was pretty bad. England played spain and I had a few with my dad at the local, then ended up in Bristol to see a mate from home at his Uni. Drinking on the way, obviously. DL drove as always. I got to 20 pints and hurled down the stairs of "The Mars Bar".When we got back to his halls I had another two pints, passed out and pissed myself in the kitchen. Not ideal.
A few months after that I was sick in a urinal halfway through my eleventh pint. I washed my mouth out, finished my drink, bought another and then went back to a mates where I drank/snorted 3/4 of a bottle of uzo. My mum found me unconcious on the step in a pool of my own piss. I was blue from the cold and covered in blood from where I'd smashed my face on the wall of the house. I did not make the wedding I was meant to be attending. My mum was so angry, and maternally distraught. I can't believe I did that to her.
To be honest there are so many. I've slept with the wrong girl at a party by mistake when I went to the wrong bedroom on the way back from the loo. How fucked do you have to be to not be able to tell which of the two girls you snogged you'd ended up with? She liked me anyway and thought I had finally come to see her, so no harm done, but her mate was asleep by the time I realised what was going on and found the correct room. We slept together in the morning. Very awkward when I next saw them both out together.
You've probably heard more than I can remember.
Easily the worst is choosing to drink wine or go to a pub instead of spending time with my ex partners. If it comes down to a choice between an early night in bed with the beautiful woman that you love, or a night on the piss with Allie and the choice takes 2 seconds before you pick the booze you really have problems. I didn't do enough to return their love and in the end that drove them away. I'm so sorry.
5) Have you ever admitted it to anyone before?
Do you mean the bad things? Pretty much but where there are no witnesses I tend to leave out nocturnal incontinence.
6) Have you ever met another fan of Allie on your travels?
A few. I met an Irish guy in Ecuador. He was taking a year off it and I took the piss. What I actually meant was "Why can't I do that?". There was another, again in Ecuador. He was a biologist, or similar. When we first met him he wasn't drinking, but after a while he was getting as pissed as me. He went a bit nuts in the jungle and started talking pigeon to the fluent english speaking guide and the two Pakistani guys who both worked for the US government and had oxford equivalent educations. "What buuurd?". "With yella bik?". It could have been the lack of liquor, because it was hitting me a bit hard too. He's the guy who helped me get the aguadente in the rainforest. He was really sound and we got on really well. Maybe we understood something about each other that no-one else got. I'll mail him and check he's ok. I've been meaning to for a while. * I'll come back to this. He kindly got back to me with "That's one hell of a way to say hi!!!". Show's I know fuck all. I'm glad to be wrong.
7) What were the first signs you knew you couldn't stop?
I've always known. I just never admitted it to myself. "Hair of the dog", "Being hardcore", and "I fear no beer", were all great lines, but actually just another reason to have another drink and get fucked again.
Hope this helps..
Laters
Sunday. Highs and lows
After a refreshing two hour sleep I jumped out of bed at 8:30am and got ready to return to the hotel wedding breakfast. 25 minutes later I was on the road and it was another beautiful day! The sun was shining, the music was loud and I was on top of the world. Even managed to arrive at my destination without getting lost. "This was going to be another belting day!" You should never think that. Life kicks you at times....
Rolled into the scene of the crime and sat with a few of my friends. Evidence of Allie was everywhere. Glazed eyes, slow movements and a general subdued air. Looks like that bitch had visited everyone last night but I knew they'd all kicked her out this morning and wouldn't be asking her to stay. I had the standard questions about last night..... "So what happened?", "How did you get on?", "How far did you get", etc. The highlight was when one of the ushers wives who I'd only met the day before shouted across the room, "Oi, M*****!!! Did you shag her then or what?". Theres not a lot you can say to that so I just smiled and remembered our talk in the car. I drank all the coffee available as the sugar was wearing off and we all just talked for an hour until it was time for people to start checking out. I was going to leave too but I didn't want it to end just yet. I sat in the garden and said goodbye to them all one by one, until it was just me left. I was a week into my new life and I felt like catching up with what I'd missed in the last 17 years.
I live in a beautiful part of Britain. The countryside is amazing and there are so many places to just sit down and be content. It hasn't got the stark beauty of Pembroke, Anglesey or the Lake District but it's the Shire, and it's home. It's disturbing how much of my life I've spent seeing it as a gap between pubs. Another regret, but there's time to put this one right. New resolution. Make the most of the summer by going into the hills (we actually have a mountain by about 30ft), and the woods at least three time a week. If it involves a walk and then sitting in a pub watching the sun set then all the better. There's a great one near me that sells elderflower cordial. Amazing! When I first quit a girl who'd helped me through the hard days took me up there and I never visit without thinking of her. I liked her, but I could never make a move. Not how as I was then. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.
So, after the hotel I went home, had some lunch and set off. It's amazing how peaceful the world is if you bring peace with you and I basked in the sun at one with the world. By now the afternoon session had started in the cricket so I dropped the car off and went to the pub. The bar manager smiled as I walked in. Apparently I was beaming like an idiot. "Did you do it?", she asked. I'd like to point out this was a reference to the whole wedding sober thing and not another crude comment about Eve. I nodded and she smiled again. Life is good. It was at this point that people started to piss me off.
The cricket going badly for a start. England were getting pasted by South Africa and I went into the garden during the tea break. There was I lad I know out there. I'd told him I'd stopped drinking on the Thursday as he struggled to get his head round the concept of someone drinking a bitter lemon and lemonade (2 straws, 1 umbrella). I didn't tell him why, as frankly I don't know him as well as I know you guys. "Hey R***. Someone told me you was drinking last night", he said in a smug accusatory tone. I wanted to deck him there and then and I never feel like that. Firstly, I hadn't been. Secondly, why would anyone comment if I had been? They'd be more likely to query the umbrella beverage. Thirdly, why would they tell that prick even if I had? Finally, no one from my local was at the wedding. I'm still pretty livid at this point but it quickly gave way to cold contempt. Why would you make something up like that? Why were you trying to undermine me and my efforts? What would you have gained if I had fucked up yesterday? Why do you want to cause me pain? I responded with "Alex you twat. I was at a wedding last night and no one there would talk to a shit like you. I just do it as charity work". Not Oscar Wilde I admit, but I was pretty upset and had to make do with the first thing that came out. I was more satisfied with the Dr Evil-esque "Ssshhh!", everytime he tried to explain in a "Yeah but, no but", kind of way. Childish I know but hey, sometimes you have to drop a level. I was so used to support by this time I couldn't be dealing with anyone who's in my way. You're either with me or you're nothing. I'm facing my shit so look in the mirror before you have a go.
Then at 8pm the phone rang..... it was my mate who we shall call "Lenny". "Hi R***. I've just finished playing snooker with "Bob". Do you fancy playing cards tonight? We'll be back in an hour". I agreed, mainly because Bob is one of my best mates who has lived nearby all my life, and witnessed all the shit first hand, pretty much daily, unable to help. He's a great friend and I wanted him to see me coming out the other side. I also wanted a chat with Lenny. "Playing snooker", translates as "I've had 5 pints, a glass of red and then hit the whisky". Lenny is a guy that people worry about inviting to parties, nights out and especially weddings. He'd been good last night, although he couldn't understand why I'd cancelled his (and three other friends including Bob's) lift home last night in favour of Eve. Face it, four people getting a cab to the same place seven miles away makes a lot more sense than one girl getting a cab ten miles on her own. Anyway, she was really nice and I just wanted to spend time with her. Even then he tried to persuade us to go back to his to play cards. Really? Hot, clever, funny, interesting girl or, on the other hand, cards with a pissed up mess. Not a tricky one!
When I say that Lenny was well behaved this is relative. He was a barely coherent shell of a human by 1:30am but this is progress. Normally he gets wasted and tries to chat up every girl in the bar. I say "chat up". I mean "grope at the earliest opportunity". I've seen him go for a neck kiss after 15 seconds. Married, single, the hosts aunty. All are fair game. Anyway, meanwhile back at the ranch..... I turned up at 9 and his opening line was, "So R***, did you seal the deal?". After explaining that I am no longer 19 and this was not some girl I'd picked up in a shithole of a club and fucked by the duckpond in the park, I elaborated to say "Got a number. Got a date. Got a kiss". To me that was all I was looking for. By this time it was pretty obvious that Lenny was steaming. Bob was looking awkward in the corner and when Lenny went to the bathroom he filled me in. He'd started on coke as it was a heavy one at the wedding, and just had a couple later in the afternoon. Lenny had just topped up straight away, then had a spliff before dinner. Apparently the pasta had to be reheated as he was so fucked he dropped the pan on the floor. If your mate is a recovering alcoholic why would you invite him round when you are shit faced? Who wins? The evening passed in an awkward way. Neither Bob or I wanted to be there. He was embarrassed by what I'd turned up to and I'd had about 11 hours sleep since 7am Thursday. I was angry again, and upset. How could he not see what he was doing? How could he accept that I've got a problem and not look in the mirror???? I left after an hour and went home to bed.
This isn't an attempt to push the shit onto someone else. My problem is mine and his is his. I'm not a smoker who's quit for a fortnight and starts complaining about the smell. I've got another objective. Lenny is smart, kind, happy, funny and good company when sober. I really care about him. Maybe it's payback for all the pain I've caused but that's what I feel when I see him. It hurts. Maybe I have more insight into this than my other friends, as I think I have an idea how empty life can be when you're with Allie. They just see a drunken mess who is an embarrassment in front of their "professional friends". Snooker? Allie comes along. Watch the football? Better save her a seat. She even comes on walks in the country in the form of a four-pack and a hip-flask.
Hopefully I can reach him. Hopefully he'll listen and then decide for himself if he has a problem. Hopefully he'll at least go to the Dr's and get checked out. Hopefully we both get out of this life alive.
Next Q & A
Rolled into the scene of the crime and sat with a few of my friends. Evidence of Allie was everywhere. Glazed eyes, slow movements and a general subdued air. Looks like that bitch had visited everyone last night but I knew they'd all kicked her out this morning and wouldn't be asking her to stay. I had the standard questions about last night..... "So what happened?", "How did you get on?", "How far did you get", etc. The highlight was when one of the ushers wives who I'd only met the day before shouted across the room, "Oi, M*****!!! Did you shag her then or what?". Theres not a lot you can say to that so I just smiled and remembered our talk in the car. I drank all the coffee available as the sugar was wearing off and we all just talked for an hour until it was time for people to start checking out. I was going to leave too but I didn't want it to end just yet. I sat in the garden and said goodbye to them all one by one, until it was just me left. I was a week into my new life and I felt like catching up with what I'd missed in the last 17 years.
I live in a beautiful part of Britain. The countryside is amazing and there are so many places to just sit down and be content. It hasn't got the stark beauty of Pembroke, Anglesey or the Lake District but it's the Shire, and it's home. It's disturbing how much of my life I've spent seeing it as a gap between pubs. Another regret, but there's time to put this one right. New resolution. Make the most of the summer by going into the hills (we actually have a mountain by about 30ft), and the woods at least three time a week. If it involves a walk and then sitting in a pub watching the sun set then all the better. There's a great one near me that sells elderflower cordial. Amazing! When I first quit a girl who'd helped me through the hard days took me up there and I never visit without thinking of her. I liked her, but I could never make a move. Not how as I was then. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.
So, after the hotel I went home, had some lunch and set off. It's amazing how peaceful the world is if you bring peace with you and I basked in the sun at one with the world. By now the afternoon session had started in the cricket so I dropped the car off and went to the pub. The bar manager smiled as I walked in. Apparently I was beaming like an idiot. "Did you do it?", she asked. I'd like to point out this was a reference to the whole wedding sober thing and not another crude comment about Eve. I nodded and she smiled again. Life is good. It was at this point that people started to piss me off.
The cricket going badly for a start. England were getting pasted by South Africa and I went into the garden during the tea break. There was I lad I know out there. I'd told him I'd stopped drinking on the Thursday as he struggled to get his head round the concept of someone drinking a bitter lemon and lemonade (2 straws, 1 umbrella). I didn't tell him why, as frankly I don't know him as well as I know you guys. "Hey R***. Someone told me you was drinking last night", he said in a smug accusatory tone. I wanted to deck him there and then and I never feel like that. Firstly, I hadn't been. Secondly, why would anyone comment if I had been? They'd be more likely to query the umbrella beverage. Thirdly, why would they tell that prick even if I had? Finally, no one from my local was at the wedding. I'm still pretty livid at this point but it quickly gave way to cold contempt. Why would you make something up like that? Why were you trying to undermine me and my efforts? What would you have gained if I had fucked up yesterday? Why do you want to cause me pain? I responded with "Alex you twat. I was at a wedding last night and no one there would talk to a shit like you. I just do it as charity work". Not Oscar Wilde I admit, but I was pretty upset and had to make do with the first thing that came out. I was more satisfied with the Dr Evil-esque "Ssshhh!", everytime he tried to explain in a "Yeah but, no but", kind of way. Childish I know but hey, sometimes you have to drop a level. I was so used to support by this time I couldn't be dealing with anyone who's in my way. You're either with me or you're nothing. I'm facing my shit so look in the mirror before you have a go.
Then at 8pm the phone rang..... it was my mate who we shall call "Lenny". "Hi R***. I've just finished playing snooker with "Bob". Do you fancy playing cards tonight? We'll be back in an hour". I agreed, mainly because Bob is one of my best mates who has lived nearby all my life, and witnessed all the shit first hand, pretty much daily, unable to help. He's a great friend and I wanted him to see me coming out the other side. I also wanted a chat with Lenny. "Playing snooker", translates as "I've had 5 pints, a glass of red and then hit the whisky". Lenny is a guy that people worry about inviting to parties, nights out and especially weddings. He'd been good last night, although he couldn't understand why I'd cancelled his (and three other friends including Bob's) lift home last night in favour of Eve. Face it, four people getting a cab to the same place seven miles away makes a lot more sense than one girl getting a cab ten miles on her own. Anyway, she was really nice and I just wanted to spend time with her. Even then he tried to persuade us to go back to his to play cards. Really? Hot, clever, funny, interesting girl or, on the other hand, cards with a pissed up mess. Not a tricky one!
When I say that Lenny was well behaved this is relative. He was a barely coherent shell of a human by 1:30am but this is progress. Normally he gets wasted and tries to chat up every girl in the bar. I say "chat up". I mean "grope at the earliest opportunity". I've seen him go for a neck kiss after 15 seconds. Married, single, the hosts aunty. All are fair game. Anyway, meanwhile back at the ranch..... I turned up at 9 and his opening line was, "So R***, did you seal the deal?". After explaining that I am no longer 19 and this was not some girl I'd picked up in a shithole of a club and fucked by the duckpond in the park, I elaborated to say "Got a number. Got a date. Got a kiss". To me that was all I was looking for. By this time it was pretty obvious that Lenny was steaming. Bob was looking awkward in the corner and when Lenny went to the bathroom he filled me in. He'd started on coke as it was a heavy one at the wedding, and just had a couple later in the afternoon. Lenny had just topped up straight away, then had a spliff before dinner. Apparently the pasta had to be reheated as he was so fucked he dropped the pan on the floor. If your mate is a recovering alcoholic why would you invite him round when you are shit faced? Who wins? The evening passed in an awkward way. Neither Bob or I wanted to be there. He was embarrassed by what I'd turned up to and I'd had about 11 hours sleep since 7am Thursday. I was angry again, and upset. How could he not see what he was doing? How could he accept that I've got a problem and not look in the mirror???? I left after an hour and went home to bed.
This isn't an attempt to push the shit onto someone else. My problem is mine and his is his. I'm not a smoker who's quit for a fortnight and starts complaining about the smell. I've got another objective. Lenny is smart, kind, happy, funny and good company when sober. I really care about him. Maybe it's payback for all the pain I've caused but that's what I feel when I see him. It hurts. Maybe I have more insight into this than my other friends, as I think I have an idea how empty life can be when you're with Allie. They just see a drunken mess who is an embarrassment in front of their "professional friends". Snooker? Allie comes along. Watch the football? Better save her a seat. She even comes on walks in the country in the form of a four-pack and a hip-flask.
Hopefully I can reach him. Hopefully he'll listen and then decide for himself if he has a problem. Hopefully he'll at least go to the Dr's and get checked out. Hopefully we both get out of this life alive.
Next Q & A
Friday 27 July 2012
An alcoholic at a wedding? What can possibly go wrong?
As it turns out, nothing. Well,almost nothing.
I'd not slept well Thursday or Friday night and had filled the time by reading "The Black Stuff", by Val Cale. It's the true story of a young Irish guy's booze and drug filled travels around the world. The premise is that the human mind is like a pint of Guiness. Concious thought, how we think we should act, our petty concerns, and all the rest are the gleaming white head. Your guts, determination and the fuel that drives you is in the Black Stuff. I like it as an analogy, although I have no idea how I fit into it. Anyway, I digress. I killed some time making risotto (carbs, protein, easy to eat) and finishing the book.
I'd made the decision to drive pretty to the wedding early in the week. As I've stated, I don't drink and drive, so this was a great way to avoid drinking. The coward part of my brain was also telling me that if it got too hard I could just fake illness and do a runner! I got dressed and to be honest I was looking pretty hot, in a Georgian footman kind of way. The dark rings around my eyes were going and I had some colour back in my cheeks. My invite was a plus one but Allie and I had terminal relationship issues, so I was going to have to do this one on my own.
I finally got to the hotel. I say finally. It's 10 miles away but despite being able to find a bar pretty much anywhere I have no sense of direction and ended up 5 miles off target. When I walked into the garden at half ten and realised that everyone else was staying over, and therefore in jeans. I felt a bit stupid but soon it was time to get ready and we could have the bonding process of cufflinks, cravates and the tricky hanky issue. Never mind the buttonholes. Buttoned jackets? Bottom waistcoat undone? Nightmare!
Eventually we were done and the pied piper led his chosen rats into the garden. More of my mates were there and I felt less exposed. The grooms mum came over and gave me a hug. "You're looking so well!!". She's also a receptionist at my Dr's so is pretty up to speed with my issues, as she often reads out my test results to me. I know it's not my day but I'm feeling fucking great right now. I'm surrounded by people I love, and just as importantly they love me. I'm gonna nail this. How could I even dream of letting this man down? He means the world to me. I'm free, newly out of a tortuous relationship, and looking forward to sharing in my friends special day! What can possibly go wrong?
We bundle through the standard groom, best man and usher photo's. I can see my man is shitting it a bit by this time so we just have a laugh and he visibly chills out. He also has a strongbow, but I'm in no position to judge. The waiting is almost over and he just wants to see his bride and say "I will". It's at moments like this that you realise that the dress, suits, flowers, meal and all the rest of it is just beautiful trimming. It's what happens between those two people that counts, and we were lucky enough to witness it. The first shock of the day came when I ordered a lemonade. £1.70 for a half. Shit - this was meant to be the cheap option!!!
Sometimes you have to help yourself in life. Sometimes someone gives you a hand. Sometimes a blisteringly niave lack of preperation and the fact that deep down, you believe that if you try to do the right thing pretty much everything will work out, more or less, ok in the end comes up Aces. All three combined here. My ushing preperation was so poor I didn't even know I had a reserved seat for the service and so as last man in I chose not to check (if I didn't I would have looked a right dick) and just plonked myself down at the back. I looked at the person next to me and she was stunning. I remembered seeing her walk in on her own about five minutes previously, so I said hello. After some initial confusion (I share a name with the groom) we started talking in the pre-bride interlude and hit it off straight away. Clever, funny, warm. Wow. My attempts to play it cool were hampered when I started welling up during the service, so at that point I just gave up with the shit. No more lies!
The service was beautiful. My friend looked so happy when his beautiful bride walked in. To be fair she would look elegant and stunning if she'd just finished a hard day digging the garden, but today she'd reached new levels. It's strange how ambivalence hits you. I was so happy for them both, and their families on what was a beautiful, moving and intimate day. At the same time I had the flashbacks to my previous fucked up relationships. My sadness made their happiness shine all the more brilliantly and lifted me. Now was not the time to look back. Now was the time to bask in someone elses joy and let it feed your own.
Big confession. I fucked up the not drinking almost immediately. When we walked out into the garden after the service there were two trays. One with champagne, one with orange juice. I went for the OJ option and after the first gulp I realised, "Shit! This isn't fucking orange juice". I ditched the bucks fizz straight away, and went back on lemonade. That could have been a turning point. I could have beaten myself up but not today. The sun was shining, and all the people I care about were around me to celebrate something special. Move on boy. It was a mistake.
It turns out that my service buddy was single and only knew the bride. Pretty brave coming on your own. In fact it turns out that we were the only two singles at the wedding. What are the chances? Thank you breathetaking niavity and lack of planning. I introduced her to my friends and their partners, which was almost a mistake. I struggled to get her back for a chat for hours. Fair play, my friends are cool. The day continued with more photo's, a lovely meal and some really moving speeches. The groom is so cool that we had to go back 18 years to find anything to dig up on him. He was sick at mine the first time he drank. He managed to not let it control him. Looking back, I was on the path even then.... I flushed scarlet with shame when they named me as holding the party. Everyone else had moved on. I sensed everybody knew I hadn't.
The meal passed, as did the interlude before the evening party and it dawned on me. I'm having a great time. I'm sober. People find me funny. And interesting. I'm sober. I was happy just hanging with strangers, talking to my friends, talking to the girl I'd just met (lets call her Eve - bit Biblical I know but kind of symbolic). I'm sober. I don't need the booze. I'm happy.
I disproved the theory that alcohol diminishes your feelings of self conciousness. I was sober, although admittedly full of sugar from the lemonade and sweet factory, and feeling the joy. You can get away with dancing like a twat as long as you have a stupid grin on you face that shouts "I know. I don't care. Great isn't it? Come and join in!!". And that's what I did. Dancing like a pillock to indie rock and roll for three hours straight in a full morning suit. I didn't need Allie. I spent a load on booze, but none of it was for me. I was happy. I was so elated I felt bullet-proof. Nothing could go wrong tonight. Not with that much love around us all.
Being the only two singles Eve and I were the centre of the gossip columns and at the end of the night I gave her a lift home. I genuinely did get lost again, but eventually got my bearings and dropped her off where she was staying, luckily about 1/4 of a mile from mine. What are the chances? We swapped numbers, promised to meet again and then she thanked me for not kissing her on the dancefloor. It was a pretty close run thing to be fair, but I remembered that just because I felt 18 again there was no need to act it. I kissed her good night and we talked for a while longer. Another kiss, and then she went inside and I drove home happy. All thoughts of Allie were gone
What an amazing day! It's joint top in my two favourite weddings of all time. Everything was so friendly, everyone was so approachable and happy. I wanted that for me. And I was so proud. My boy had grown up!
There is an ususual post script. I got in about three and sat up reading in the garden until 5:30am, then finally dropped of to sleep some time after 6:30am. The moral is that if you drink a gallon of lemonade and eat two kilo of candy sleeping will be difficult. That's what I tried to tell myself anyway. Deep down I think it was just sheer happiness and elation. Goodbye Allie. I don't miss you. Go and dig your claws into someone else. You've held me back too long. Bitch.
Next up - Sunday and a Q & A mail from one of my oldest friends. He encouraged me to write this and was the first to read it.
I'd not slept well Thursday or Friday night and had filled the time by reading "The Black Stuff", by Val Cale. It's the true story of a young Irish guy's booze and drug filled travels around the world. The premise is that the human mind is like a pint of Guiness. Concious thought, how we think we should act, our petty concerns, and all the rest are the gleaming white head. Your guts, determination and the fuel that drives you is in the Black Stuff. I like it as an analogy, although I have no idea how I fit into it. Anyway, I digress. I killed some time making risotto (carbs, protein, easy to eat) and finishing the book.
I'd made the decision to drive pretty to the wedding early in the week. As I've stated, I don't drink and drive, so this was a great way to avoid drinking. The coward part of my brain was also telling me that if it got too hard I could just fake illness and do a runner! I got dressed and to be honest I was looking pretty hot, in a Georgian footman kind of way. The dark rings around my eyes were going and I had some colour back in my cheeks. My invite was a plus one but Allie and I had terminal relationship issues, so I was going to have to do this one on my own.
I finally got to the hotel. I say finally. It's 10 miles away but despite being able to find a bar pretty much anywhere I have no sense of direction and ended up 5 miles off target. When I walked into the garden at half ten and realised that everyone else was staying over, and therefore in jeans. I felt a bit stupid but soon it was time to get ready and we could have the bonding process of cufflinks, cravates and the tricky hanky issue. Never mind the buttonholes. Buttoned jackets? Bottom waistcoat undone? Nightmare!
Eventually we were done and the pied piper led his chosen rats into the garden. More of my mates were there and I felt less exposed. The grooms mum came over and gave me a hug. "You're looking so well!!". She's also a receptionist at my Dr's so is pretty up to speed with my issues, as she often reads out my test results to me. I know it's not my day but I'm feeling fucking great right now. I'm surrounded by people I love, and just as importantly they love me. I'm gonna nail this. How could I even dream of letting this man down? He means the world to me. I'm free, newly out of a tortuous relationship, and looking forward to sharing in my friends special day! What can possibly go wrong?
We bundle through the standard groom, best man and usher photo's. I can see my man is shitting it a bit by this time so we just have a laugh and he visibly chills out. He also has a strongbow, but I'm in no position to judge. The waiting is almost over and he just wants to see his bride and say "I will". It's at moments like this that you realise that the dress, suits, flowers, meal and all the rest of it is just beautiful trimming. It's what happens between those two people that counts, and we were lucky enough to witness it. The first shock of the day came when I ordered a lemonade. £1.70 for a half. Shit - this was meant to be the cheap option!!!
Sometimes you have to help yourself in life. Sometimes someone gives you a hand. Sometimes a blisteringly niave lack of preperation and the fact that deep down, you believe that if you try to do the right thing pretty much everything will work out, more or less, ok in the end comes up Aces. All three combined here. My ushing preperation was so poor I didn't even know I had a reserved seat for the service and so as last man in I chose not to check (if I didn't I would have looked a right dick) and just plonked myself down at the back. I looked at the person next to me and she was stunning. I remembered seeing her walk in on her own about five minutes previously, so I said hello. After some initial confusion (I share a name with the groom) we started talking in the pre-bride interlude and hit it off straight away. Clever, funny, warm. Wow. My attempts to play it cool were hampered when I started welling up during the service, so at that point I just gave up with the shit. No more lies!
The service was beautiful. My friend looked so happy when his beautiful bride walked in. To be fair she would look elegant and stunning if she'd just finished a hard day digging the garden, but today she'd reached new levels. It's strange how ambivalence hits you. I was so happy for them both, and their families on what was a beautiful, moving and intimate day. At the same time I had the flashbacks to my previous fucked up relationships. My sadness made their happiness shine all the more brilliantly and lifted me. Now was not the time to look back. Now was the time to bask in someone elses joy and let it feed your own.
Big confession. I fucked up the not drinking almost immediately. When we walked out into the garden after the service there were two trays. One with champagne, one with orange juice. I went for the OJ option and after the first gulp I realised, "Shit! This isn't fucking orange juice". I ditched the bucks fizz straight away, and went back on lemonade. That could have been a turning point. I could have beaten myself up but not today. The sun was shining, and all the people I care about were around me to celebrate something special. Move on boy. It was a mistake.
It turns out that my service buddy was single and only knew the bride. Pretty brave coming on your own. In fact it turns out that we were the only two singles at the wedding. What are the chances? Thank you breathetaking niavity and lack of planning. I introduced her to my friends and their partners, which was almost a mistake. I struggled to get her back for a chat for hours. Fair play, my friends are cool. The day continued with more photo's, a lovely meal and some really moving speeches. The groom is so cool that we had to go back 18 years to find anything to dig up on him. He was sick at mine the first time he drank. He managed to not let it control him. Looking back, I was on the path even then.... I flushed scarlet with shame when they named me as holding the party. Everyone else had moved on. I sensed everybody knew I hadn't.
The meal passed, as did the interlude before the evening party and it dawned on me. I'm having a great time. I'm sober. People find me funny. And interesting. I'm sober. I was happy just hanging with strangers, talking to my friends, talking to the girl I'd just met (lets call her Eve - bit Biblical I know but kind of symbolic). I'm sober. I don't need the booze. I'm happy.
I disproved the theory that alcohol diminishes your feelings of self conciousness. I was sober, although admittedly full of sugar from the lemonade and sweet factory, and feeling the joy. You can get away with dancing like a twat as long as you have a stupid grin on you face that shouts "I know. I don't care. Great isn't it? Come and join in!!". And that's what I did. Dancing like a pillock to indie rock and roll for three hours straight in a full morning suit. I didn't need Allie. I spent a load on booze, but none of it was for me. I was happy. I was so elated I felt bullet-proof. Nothing could go wrong tonight. Not with that much love around us all.
Being the only two singles Eve and I were the centre of the gossip columns and at the end of the night I gave her a lift home. I genuinely did get lost again, but eventually got my bearings and dropped her off where she was staying, luckily about 1/4 of a mile from mine. What are the chances? We swapped numbers, promised to meet again and then she thanked me for not kissing her on the dancefloor. It was a pretty close run thing to be fair, but I remembered that just because I felt 18 again there was no need to act it. I kissed her good night and we talked for a while longer. Another kiss, and then she went inside and I drove home happy. All thoughts of Allie were gone
What an amazing day! It's joint top in my two favourite weddings of all time. Everything was so friendly, everyone was so approachable and happy. I wanted that for me. And I was so proud. My boy had grown up!
There is an ususual post script. I got in about three and sat up reading in the garden until 5:30am, then finally dropped of to sleep some time after 6:30am. The moral is that if you drink a gallon of lemonade and eat two kilo of candy sleeping will be difficult. That's what I tried to tell myself anyway. Deep down I think it was just sheer happiness and elation. Goodbye Allie. I don't miss you. Go and dig your claws into someone else. You've held me back too long. Bitch.
Next up - Sunday and a Q & A mail from one of my oldest friends. He encouraged me to write this and was the first to read it.
Back in the real world
Thursday morning and back to work. I had a pretty crap night. Getting to sleep naturally can be an issue when you are used to passing out, but on the bright side I had no booze to flush out so 4 hours suited me fine. There was the usual early morning vomit after a glass of water but I still haven't really eaten so it's only to be expected. The shakes are still with me. You would not believe the fun I had doing up my tie. And it actually was fun. I've won this round and this time the DT's are just Allies last desperate attempt to hang on as opposed to "I need a fucking drink". Finally beat the tie into submission, took some pills for my stomach and managed to hold down breakfast. As far as first day's of the rest of your life go, this one was off to a flier!
I'm not going to lie to you - I was feeling pretty good about myself at this point. I'm not embarrassed to admit it either. Why should I be? I was almost at the 100 hour mark of being straight and I'd tunnelled through three nights of shit to get there. How many normal people go that long without a drink? Admittedly they probably don't drink 8 - 10 weeks recomended intake in 7 days and a have a potentially fatal liver condition but so what? Celebrate the wins!
I still wasn't 100%, obviously. My hands were shakey and my insides hurt. I kept getting strange stabbing or prickling pains that seemed to be in my legs, head and right shoulder but I'm pretty sure these were in my torso and my nervous system was taking the piss. I grabbed some stuff for lunch from the greengrocer (bananas - energy, delicious and most importantly easy to eat) and waited for the bus. I knew I had a lot to do today. Firstly I need to explain to my team what the fuck's been going on. Then I need to have a return to work interview with my boss. Neither of things things scare me. They should. 6 months ago I would have been terrified. Two weeks ago I'd have been ashamed to admit that I'd really fucked up on the whole "controlled drinking" plan, but I felt neither of these things. I am what I am. I'm taking steps. I'm not ashamed. As the sun shone through the morning haze I was looking forward to both tasks as burdens I could unload. I was free!!
The one thing I was worried about was happening Saturday. A guy I've known since 3rd year junior school was getting married. We've always stayed close, as most of my friends from that time have, but a wedding is still a pretty daunting occassion to have on your horizon when you're in my situation. Worse still he'd done me the honour of making me an usher so I couldn't even bale. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! I'll come back to this in a bit. Fuck!
Work was good. The guys were great, as was my boss. It was nice to be normal. I had to keep taking the drugs as I was still in a lot of pain and subtly indicated it may not be a day for me to get the drinks in. Well, I could, but there's a pretty good chance that either my colleagues or their desk would end up wearing it as my hands were that unsteady. It's odd looking back. I could still type. Maybe it's just actions that other people may see that intensify the shakes. When I was still dating Allie I'd be pretty much ok all day but as soon as I got to the pub I'd struggle to hand over change and picking up a pint was a two-hand job. It was generally ok by the third so clearly the booze was doing some good......I used that lie on myself a few times. Twat!
Finished at five and went straight to the pub. Pineapple and lemonade ordered, and a seat in front of the cricket. Life is good. Home, dinner, and bed.
Friday followed pretty much the same pattern. My manager kindly checked in and told me to call or text her if I needed anything, either at work or out of hours. Just knowing that helps. People are there for you. You just have to let them in. All that was left was wedding prep. My monkey suit had been dropped off so all I had to do was iron a shirt (I had a waistcoat so just did the visible bits), clean my shoes and have a shave. Mission accomplished, I went to the pub and had a chat to a few people, then went to bed.
Big day tomorrow. Scared? Not a bit of it! Fucking terrified? Hell Yeah!!!!
I'm not going to lie to you - I was feeling pretty good about myself at this point. I'm not embarrassed to admit it either. Why should I be? I was almost at the 100 hour mark of being straight and I'd tunnelled through three nights of shit to get there. How many normal people go that long without a drink? Admittedly they probably don't drink 8 - 10 weeks recomended intake in 7 days and a have a potentially fatal liver condition but so what? Celebrate the wins!
I still wasn't 100%, obviously. My hands were shakey and my insides hurt. I kept getting strange stabbing or prickling pains that seemed to be in my legs, head and right shoulder but I'm pretty sure these were in my torso and my nervous system was taking the piss. I grabbed some stuff for lunch from the greengrocer (bananas - energy, delicious and most importantly easy to eat) and waited for the bus. I knew I had a lot to do today. Firstly I need to explain to my team what the fuck's been going on. Then I need to have a return to work interview with my boss. Neither of things things scare me. They should. 6 months ago I would have been terrified. Two weeks ago I'd have been ashamed to admit that I'd really fucked up on the whole "controlled drinking" plan, but I felt neither of these things. I am what I am. I'm taking steps. I'm not ashamed. As the sun shone through the morning haze I was looking forward to both tasks as burdens I could unload. I was free!!
The one thing I was worried about was happening Saturday. A guy I've known since 3rd year junior school was getting married. We've always stayed close, as most of my friends from that time have, but a wedding is still a pretty daunting occassion to have on your horizon when you're in my situation. Worse still he'd done me the honour of making me an usher so I couldn't even bale. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! I'll come back to this in a bit. Fuck!
Work was good. The guys were great, as was my boss. It was nice to be normal. I had to keep taking the drugs as I was still in a lot of pain and subtly indicated it may not be a day for me to get the drinks in. Well, I could, but there's a pretty good chance that either my colleagues or their desk would end up wearing it as my hands were that unsteady. It's odd looking back. I could still type. Maybe it's just actions that other people may see that intensify the shakes. When I was still dating Allie I'd be pretty much ok all day but as soon as I got to the pub I'd struggle to hand over change and picking up a pint was a two-hand job. It was generally ok by the third so clearly the booze was doing some good......I used that lie on myself a few times. Twat!
Finished at five and went straight to the pub. Pineapple and lemonade ordered, and a seat in front of the cricket. Life is good. Home, dinner, and bed.
Friday followed pretty much the same pattern. My manager kindly checked in and told me to call or text her if I needed anything, either at work or out of hours. Just knowing that helps. People are there for you. You just have to let them in. All that was left was wedding prep. My monkey suit had been dropped off so all I had to do was iron a shirt (I had a waistcoat so just did the visible bits), clean my shoes and have a shave. Mission accomplished, I went to the pub and had a chat to a few people, then went to bed.
Big day tomorrow. Scared? Not a bit of it! Fucking terrified? Hell Yeah!!!!
Thursday 26 July 2012
First 10 days......Sunday lunchtime to Wednesday
Sunday
The shit really started kicking in Sunday lunchtime. I was in a lot of pain, as my organs struggled to adjust. My kidneys were working overtime and god could I feel them. I hadn't been able to eat for almost 24 hours, except a handful of popcorn. The shakes and sweats were kicking in, and I knew I had to ride it out. I knew I could make it. I'd done it before. I texted my boss and told her what was going on. She was really cool as I'd been honest last time and she knew the deal. I said I'd call or text in the morning, but it wasn't looking good. I took a couple of paracetemol and went to bed.
Monday to Wednesday
To be honest there isn't a lot to say. I sweated, shook, and drifted in and out of awareness for most of it. I remember my abdomen hurt a lot. By mid-morning Wednesday I was a lot more lucid. The pain was still there but my temperature had dropped and the sweats were easing. The shakes persisted. The toothpaste cap was really starting to annoy me. It was actually quite funny at the time. I've no idea why! I booked an appointment at the Dr's and got a cancellation that afternoon. In the meantime I had my first meal since Sunday. You feel really weak after a shift like that but it feels good too. The worst is over.
The Dr was really cool. Obviously not glad to see me, but glad I'd made the decision and made a start. She did a general physical and told me to get some bloods booked in. My urine sample was riddled with ketones that meant my body was essentially in a mess. I'm no Dr but even I could tell that piss wasn't meant to look like rusty lucozade. She told me to drink plenty of clear fluids as that should ease the pressure on my kidneysI mentioned my nipples had some tissue underneath them that had developed when I started drinking again. Gynaecomastia.... http://www.patient.co.uk/doctor/Gynaecomastia.htm
A hormonal issue associated with liver issues and addictions means that I now have a 2cm disk of tissue under each nipple. I didn't ask if it goes away. That's one for next time I see her......Then I called work and started to prepare to return on Thursday.
Next; Back to work, and possibly the worst social situation for someone whose just quit the booze. What can possibly go wrong??
The shit really started kicking in Sunday lunchtime. I was in a lot of pain, as my organs struggled to adjust. My kidneys were working overtime and god could I feel them. I hadn't been able to eat for almost 24 hours, except a handful of popcorn. The shakes and sweats were kicking in, and I knew I had to ride it out. I knew I could make it. I'd done it before. I texted my boss and told her what was going on. She was really cool as I'd been honest last time and she knew the deal. I said I'd call or text in the morning, but it wasn't looking good. I took a couple of paracetemol and went to bed.
Monday to Wednesday
To be honest there isn't a lot to say. I sweated, shook, and drifted in and out of awareness for most of it. I remember my abdomen hurt a lot. By mid-morning Wednesday I was a lot more lucid. The pain was still there but my temperature had dropped and the sweats were easing. The shakes persisted. The toothpaste cap was really starting to annoy me. It was actually quite funny at the time. I've no idea why! I booked an appointment at the Dr's and got a cancellation that afternoon. In the meantime I had my first meal since Sunday. You feel really weak after a shift like that but it feels good too. The worst is over.
The Dr was really cool. Obviously not glad to see me, but glad I'd made the decision and made a start. She did a general physical and told me to get some bloods booked in. My urine sample was riddled with ketones that meant my body was essentially in a mess. I'm no Dr but even I could tell that piss wasn't meant to look like rusty lucozade. She told me to drink plenty of clear fluids as that should ease the pressure on my kidneysI mentioned my nipples had some tissue underneath them that had developed when I started drinking again. Gynaecomastia.... http://www.patient.co.uk/doctor/Gynaecomastia.htm
A hormonal issue associated with liver issues and addictions means that I now have a 2cm disk of tissue under each nipple. I didn't ask if it goes away. That's one for next time I see her......Then I called work and started to prepare to return on Thursday.
Next; Back to work, and possibly the worst social situation for someone whose just quit the booze. What can possibly go wrong??
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