Monday, February 29, 2016
Friday, February 26, 2016
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
Monday, February 15, 2016
Wow! Crossrail continues apace. This bridge has appeared since Friday
February 15, 2016 at 05:49AM via Facebook
Sunday, February 14, 2016
OYNB
Day 29 now. Will definitely go on to 60 days. Two immediate aims now - muck out my room and exercise (might have to strip down the bike while I’m off).
An illustration (not me I hasten to add).*
I would just add, the realisation isn’t new. I’ve known, certainly since my twenties, how unhealthy my relationship with alcohol is or was. My personality and self-loathing or lack of confidence meant even a destructive prop felt better than trying to go without. Sue’s support (when taken) and nudges toward self-examination have encouraged me in aggregate towards my current small near-milestone. One prod towards an autism self-test had a lasting effect; recalling awkward moments growing up chimed with some of the questions - “You mean that’s not normal?”. Moments of sober reflection began to add up. I still fell back on solitary binge-drinking and destruction, despite the evidence of continuing, mounting harm. You’re pre-diabetic; you’re diabetic, your BS levels are still increasing, your blood pressure’s a bit high, so’s your cholesterol - you are watching what you eat, aren’t you? Finally, an excuse to stop I could happily grab hold of, ironically a part of my continuing bad health. A virulent dose of ‘flu (I’d never felt sufficiently germ-free to go for the free jab I’m entitled to) knocked me down to the extent that I just couldn’t face my traditional bedtime glass of wine or four. “MY EYEBALLS HURT!”. “I’M COLD/BOILING/FREEZING!”. But no desire to drink. Having to go back to work before I felt recovered (the joys of a job without sick pay) meant the want was still not there and hasn’t returned so far. I had deliberately ignored “dry January” - I strongly resist doing something when lots of other people are doing it - but now found myself near the end of the month in the midst of a surprise dry spell. I have forgotten where, but will try to find out, I saw an article about one of the founders of One Year No Beer. It appealed to me in my current state of mind and now I find myself wanting to keep it up. (I’ve got as far as attending a couple of AA meetings before but the religious aspects, “the drinkers’ church” as Rebus called it in one of his early stories, put me right off pursuing.) Tomorrow is the first of the milestones you’re encouraged to aim for. I’ve gone more than a month without a drink before but fairly quickly relapsed. This time I feel good about going for the sixty days, then maybe ninety. Slà inte mhath!
*One Year No Beer
An illustration (not me I hasten to add).*
DEAR ALCOHOL
Thank you for the fantastic years together; you
have been a great friend for so long. You have
brought endless fun, gotten me into many
hilarious and disturbing situations, got me laid,
hired, fired, sent to A & E and even to a little town
called Manningtree, when I was supposed to be
at the church. We’ve had so much fun together
over the years. We’ve had some laughs, we’ve
had some tears.
But things have changed for me now; there are
so many things I want to achieve in this life and
you are holding me back. I find it really painful
to tell you this truth because you’ve been such a
good friend, but I can’t be around you anymore.
You are destructive, and you have started to ruin
parts of my life. I didn’t realise you were doing
this; you’ve been doing it all behind my back. I
wake up each day hearing stories of what you
have been doing to me.
The lies, the pain.
I’ve come to realise that I don’t need you
anymore. All the time I thought you were helping,
you were destroying.
It’s heartbreaking that I put so much trust,
money and time into our relationship, and you
have been so cunning and deceitful.
The destruction to my family and my body and
my life plans. I can’t take any more of this.
So I have to let you go. I don’t want you to call
me. Don’t chase me; just leave me, as I have
moved on.
Take care, my friend.
I would just add, the realisation isn’t new. I’ve known, certainly since my twenties, how unhealthy my relationship with alcohol is or was. My personality and self-loathing or lack of confidence meant even a destructive prop felt better than trying to go without. Sue’s support (when taken) and nudges toward self-examination have encouraged me in aggregate towards my current small near-milestone. One prod towards an autism self-test had a lasting effect; recalling awkward moments growing up chimed with some of the questions - “You mean that’s not normal?”. Moments of sober reflection began to add up. I still fell back on solitary binge-drinking and destruction, despite the evidence of continuing, mounting harm. You’re pre-diabetic; you’re diabetic, your BS levels are still increasing, your blood pressure’s a bit high, so’s your cholesterol - you are watching what you eat, aren’t you? Finally, an excuse to stop I could happily grab hold of, ironically a part of my continuing bad health. A virulent dose of ‘flu (I’d never felt sufficiently germ-free to go for the free jab I’m entitled to) knocked me down to the extent that I just couldn’t face my traditional bedtime glass of wine or four. “MY EYEBALLS HURT!”. “I’M COLD/BOILING/FREEZING!”. But no desire to drink. Having to go back to work before I felt recovered (the joys of a job without sick pay) meant the want was still not there and hasn’t returned so far. I had deliberately ignored “dry January” - I strongly resist doing something when lots of other people are doing it - but now found myself near the end of the month in the midst of a surprise dry spell. I have forgotten where, but will try to find out, I saw an article about one of the founders of One Year No Beer. It appealed to me in my current state of mind and now I find myself wanting to keep it up. (I’ve got as far as attending a couple of AA meetings before but the religious aspects, “the drinkers’ church” as Rebus called it in one of his early stories, put me right off pursuing.) Tomorrow is the first of the milestones you’re encouraged to aim for. I’ve gone more than a month without a drink before but fairly quickly relapsed. This time I feel good about going for the sixty days, then maybe ninety. Slà inte mhath!
*One Year No Beer
Monday, February 01, 2016
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