Towards 2020 and Beyond

Day 587.

It’s Christmas! Hoorah!

Not hoorah?

When the familiar comfort blanket of alcohol and drugs have gone, the only thing in your bloodstream is juice, coffee, or tea. With white knuckles, you’re soberly watching the world and his wife happily celebrating (ironically with an array of alcohol) this once joyous period.

Christmas can be hell on earth for people early in recovery. In fact, pick any occasion: birthdays, funerals, weddings, new employment – you name it. The newly-clean and sober, often struggle.

We do try. People wouldn’t believe how hard we attempt to get through these events of normality. If they could only see the mental gymnastics we have to perform, simply to get to our beds at night, clean and sober. They would be stunned. But others can’t see it. Unfortunately, they aren’t mind readers. We try not to talk about what we do, and we certainly don’t want patting on the head for our efforts.  

For us, the daily 24-hour internal wars that we fight is just another day. It’s what we must do. But during booze-fests such as Christmas, we have to up-the-anti, crank up the super-psychology, sharpen up and pull even more tools out of the bag.

Unlike previous years, this Christmas I won’t be torturing myself with thoughts of alcohol, hopefully. I’ve put a lot mental groundwork in. My mind is calmer. Every day spent sober gives my mind the confidence to give itself a break. Sobriety isn’t easy, but time is a major player in easing or erasing the toxic thoughts around difficult events.

So: 1: Do I enjoy Christmas now? 2: Am I happy and contented? 3: Am I fixed? 4: Am I now a smug little bastard with all the answers, now I’m sober?

Let’s see:

1: I do not enjoy Christmas at all. I tolerate it because I don’t have a choice. Actually, I do have a choice. I choose to do it alcohol-free. The other choice is no longer an option. This Christmas I can promise myself I’ll get to 2020 sober. Previous years I couldn’t give that promise. I simply don’t enjoy Christmas as I once did. No big deal – it’s just another day. Life goes on and always will. Baby steps.

2: I’m not happy and contented.  I’m riddled with guilt. I constantly beat myself up about the past, all the wasted time, all my failed hopes and dreams. I convince myself I’m not good enough. My own personal standards of myself were ridiculously high and unachievable. I’m striving to change that. I am my own worst enemy.

But I’m getting better. The past is the past and unless somebody invents time-travel, there’s nothing I can do about it. Was the past really ever as good as I thought? Maybe. But maybe not. It’s the present that’s important. Things are much better than they were, and my old hopes are gradually becoming a reality. So, for now, that will do. I’m working on Paulie: version 2.0. It seems a good version. Baby steps.

3: I’m not, and never will be fixed. But I will always have choice. I could still take the easy path by pressing the fuck-it button and drink. Block everything out and have a shitty life again. Or I can remain on the harder, more fearsome path, to stay sober every day and see where it takes me. I eventually chose the latter. To live. To see what happens and see what’s on the other side.

This is what I do day after day. Experiencing life on the other side of the bars of the cage – seeing where it takes me. So far so good. I have wonderful friends, a nice little job doing what I love, and fantastic colleagues. A nice little life. It’s far from perfect but nothing is. Is it? Baby steps.

4: Smug with all the answers? I hope not. No, I’m just a little bit wiser, a little healthier, a little less stupid now that my brain cells have finally kicked in. There are no answers when it comes to getting clean and sober. You can be guided, but no real answers reveal themselves. We are all different and we all find our own way. What might work for me may not work for you. But one thing I do recommend that helped me, is this:

Be selfish! No, I don’t mean be an asshole to everyone. Be completely and utterly selfish with your recovery. Every list you ever make: in your head, your life, your phone or on paper, make sure your recovery is number one. If it isn’t at the top of the list, everything beneath it could eventually evaporate – and you’re left with nothing, again.

You must put yourself first.

Don’t want to do something because it will make you twitchy? Don’t do it. Been invited out but you don’t feel safe? Don’t go. People think your weird because you’re not drinking alcohol at Christmas? Tough! It’s your life, your recovery. You know what works for you and what doesn’t. You are in charge and you are in control. If others can’t accept that at Christmas or any other time – again, tough.

So, my advice for Christmas? I haven’t any. My wish? That you are safe as you find your own way. That you don’t crumble beneath other people’s pressure. That you put yourself above everything. Christmas is just another day. It will not kill you. Find some joy and gratitude from somewhere – anywhere! It’s there! You’ll find it, even in the darkest corners of the darkest rooms in your head. It’s there. Grab it and run with it towards 2020 and beyond.

You’ll be ok. You’ll survive the best way you can.

You’ll find your way.

Stay safe everyone xx

Find your own way

Not stumbling

Day 586

A little more creativity before I post the big stuff.

*      *      *      *

When your life is pitch black,
Light it up,
I know,
It’s hard,
So hard,
To find your own flame,
When it’s been gone,
For so long,
Because of this,
Or that,
But it’s there,
It always is,
But the hardest part,
Is the search,
For something,
That the world,
Tries to snuff out,
Day,
After day,
After Groundhog Day,
But you have everything you need,
To find your own light,
Just follow your own map,
Under your skin,
It’s in your DNA,
It runs in your veins,
It’s inside your heart,
It swirls in your soul,
It shocks your synapses into life,
It pushes,
Pulses,
And gushes your blood,
It flickers your lids,
Over the flash of your eyes.
It,
   has,
          always,
                       always,
                                    always,
                          been,
                there,
because,
                your,
                         light,
                                 is . . .

You! ❤

*      *      *      *

Stay safe everyone xx

It has always been there

Gratitude

Day 564

It’s been a while. There will be a real and actual blog post at the weekend. But until then, a little bit of creativity that fell out of my head. Dedicated to and inspired by my colleagues and friends on the front line every day, bravely and passionately helping others fight their addictions. I’m so proud to be part of the family. So proud.

Stay safe, all xx

An Illusion Called Time

Day 468.

This is a dark post. A bit grim and raw. It’s not in the slightest bit uplifting, because it’s the ugly truth. It’s a snapshot of the future if addiction gets hold of you. If you want your day brightening up, I’d skip this post today. It’s not for you.

*          *          *

The days, weeks, months, and years are so full of time. We continually think of all that time, time and time again. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Addicts can magically erase all that time. Poof!

Once our bloodstreams, brains, and bones are flooded full of our substance of choice – time, no longer exists. It never did – poof! Every day is a filthy, bloodied, tear-stained, non-existent, Groundhog Day. Our next drink or fix dissolves the minutes, hours, months, and years into a liquid and mercurial state.

Addicts exist in a swirling grey fog of nothing. It’s the first wish granted when we rub the magic addiction lamp. Eventually, further down the line, ‘I wish the next drink will kill me’ is the one wish that never seems to come. But give it time. That final wish will come true. It always does. Just give it time.

Every day we hear people say the same thing. Time flies! Where does all the time go? I can’t believe how quickly the time has passed! The time has literally gone! Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

Anything and everything merges into mush. Life (whatever that may be) swirls around us like the filthy blood sloshing around our veins. We have given ourselves a licence not to think any more. Our feelings put on pause. We laugh and we cry but never know why. Some of us cut and slash our sick, yellowing skin because we need to transfer the searing mental pain onto something tangible. Something we can see. There is enough rage and guilt in our bodies that the cuts never hurt. The pain moves a million miles away. The screams become distant echoes. 

The dried blood and scars become the addicts Braille our fingertips read when the lights go out.

The door never opens because it’s always locked. The phone never rings after it’s unplugged. The outside world is simply that – outside.

Outside exists only when it must: when we get our drinks, when we meet our dealers, or when we finally have to sleep in it. Life never comes to us because we never let it in. Too embarrassed, too angry, too ugly, too far gone, too paranoid – too dead.

We don’t know where time is anymore. Time rots our food, rots our guts, makes us stink, takes our kids, un-employs us, desexualises us, imprisons us, removes our souls, cages our minds, makes shop doorways our beds. It builds our crosses and crucifies us.

But we don’t care. We never care.

We’ve spent many years re-wiring our brains with poison. We hacked our fleshy, sputtering software so that giving a shit does not compute anymore. We’ve crashed our system – blue screen – error 404. No option to reboot or reinstall. We are totally corrupted. All data lost. Blip! Gone.

Our tiny universe has stopped all the clocks. Nothing revolves around our world – only drink or drugs – drugs and drink. Our weather is toxic; the ground is a waiting grave. One day we will be worm food, plant food, maggot-ridden and fly-blown. It’s then up to heaven and hell to fight over our ragged souls and show us our new home. 

I wonder if Jesus still does his water into wine trick! Does heaven have a rehab? Can the biblical and eternal screaming hell that our churches and priests condemn us to, match up to the hell we created for ourselves?

I doubt it. It’ll walk in the park. 

Anyway, happy thoughts, eh!

Stay amazing and safe, everyone xx

A walk in the park

Passed the past

452 days.

A bit more bored-on-the-bus noodling. An un-edited splurge. A brain-burp. Not really a poem. Not really anything. But might be something to someone. Or not.

*          *          *

The Past has Passed.

Five years was in the past.

Five months was in the past.

Five days was in the past.

Five seconds was in the past.

*

When you read the first line of this.

It’s now in the past.

This line is in the present.

Now it’s in the past.

All the above has now, passed into the past.

*

Whatever the number.

Whatever we have done.

No matter how bad, or painful.

It’s now gone, and done.

Passed into the past.

*

We drank and we used.

We hurt and got hurt.

But now we don’t, and we move on.

Whatever went on before.

Is now passed into the past.

*

We can’t change it.

Nothing can be undone.

It’s away from now, it’s now . . . then.

Now gone and done.

Passed into the past.

*

The hurt, they can re-join us on our journey.

Or not. They can choose.

As we have chosen.

Wisely and timely.

To put the past back in the past.

*

Live for now.

Enjoy tomorrow.

Rejoice in your amazing future.

Whatever will be bad.

Will be passed into the past.

*

Live.

Be happy.

Take chances.

Love your friends ferociously.

Leave the past.

It’s passed.

Live!

*          *          *

Stay safe everyone x

Me – in the past

Puppet master

Day 446.

I’ve nothing much to say right now as I’m busy with writing projects and work. But I thought I’d at least post something. I wrote the words below today as part of a work in progress. I made a sort of, kind of meme with them. I’ve got something lined up for next weekend, hopefully. Keep your eyes peeled. Or not.

Stay safe and amazing everyone x

Corpses Don’t Blog

397 days

If this week would have happened before April 2017, I would have Sepsis. Without a shadow of a doubt. But the only difference being, nobody would have known about it. Nobody would have been around to call the emergency services. I certainly wouldn’t have called them. No chance. My door would have been locked and all phones un-plugged and turned off. I would have been in a very bad way. I certainly wouldn’t be writing this.

Untreated, life-threatening, conditions are not conducive to the written word. I’ve been reliably informed by professionals that it’s very hard to write when you’re dead. Rigor mortis, and all that stuff.

Corpses don’t blog.

I’m not out of the woods yet but thanks to the expertise and quick-thinking of a fantastic doctor who arranged urgent treatment, I’m now Sepsis-free. I’m also not dead (although my mirror tells me differently).

So, what happened? And what’s this doing on an addiction blog? Bear with me.

Six days ago, I woke up with a painful lump under my ear. As the day went on, it grew. I was confused, feeling sick and peeing razor blades. Hot and cold flushes. I walked like I was drunk. The lump grew and the pain increased. Going against my old addicted nature, I called the doctor’s surgery and got an emergency appointment.

The GP took one look at it and her face dropped. She called in a colleague and they both agreed instantly. Straight to hospital! Right now!

Blood tests, blood pressure, cannula in the arm, and pumped with antibiotics. I’ve been in hospital every morning since then: lanced, drained, cut open, cleaned, swabbed, and dressed. You name it, I’ve had it. But it’s not going away. Samples have gone off for tests to see what variation of infection it is. But I’m not dying and I don’t have Sepsis anymore. I’m sore and very bored of it all. But sore and very bored mean I’m alive and dealing with problems as they arise.

So, what would have happened pre-April 2017?

Nothing. My best guess is that it would have gone like this:

Woke up with a painful lump under my ear – drank alcohol. As the day went on, it grew and grew – drank alcohol. Feeling sick, confused, peeing razor blades, hot and cold, and walking like I was drunk – more alcohol. The lump got bigger and the pain worse – kept drinking alcohol. Go to the shop, get more alcohol. Repeat until blackout.

No urgency there eh! All blotted out until whatever happened, happened. It wouldn’t have progressed much further than the next drink. No doctors, nurses, or surgical teams. No friends to worry about me because they wouldn’t have known. Alcohol was my antibiotic and anaesthetic for everything – my oral Cannula. Extreme pain and increasing symptoms? I wouldn’t have cared one iota. Certainly not with a bottle in my hand. Pain? Death? Bring it on! Sooner the better! Nobody gives a shit anyway. And on with the badly-attended pity-party of one. Rinse and repeat.

But it’s 2019. I don’t have Sepsis. I’m 397 days sober and glad to be alive! I love my life and adore my many wonderful, stunning, amazing friends and peers and (soon to be) colleagues. I love my son so very much. Next month I’ll be employed for the very first time in two years working in my dream job as an addiction recovery worker. I’ve worked really hard for it. So hard! I won’t let anything get in the way of all this love and joy and new confidence. Nothing!

Recovery will always forever be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done, and keep doing. But I have to keep doing it because the alternative isn’t worth going back to. Ever!

Hell’s basement is always open to me to slide or fall into the pit. So, I carefully watch where I walk. Every single day. Because without my recovery I have nothing. Well apart from Sepsis, badly-attended parties, oh, and death.

I’ll keep you posted.

Keep smiling. Stay safe everyone xxx

Birthday in rehab 2017