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 Iām off).
An illustration (not me this time).*
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. Weāve had so much fun together over the years. Weāve had some laughs, weāve 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 youāve been such a good friend, but I canāt be around you anymore. You are destructive, and you have started to ruin parts of my life. I didnāt realise you were doing this; youāve 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. Iāve come to realise that I donāt need you anymore. All the time I thought you were helping, you were destroying. Itās 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 canāt take any more of this. So I have to let you go. I donāt want you to call me. Donāt chase me; just leave me, as I have moved on. Take care, my friend.
I would just add, the realisation isnāt new. Iāve 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. Sueās 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 - āYou mean thatās not normal?ā. 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. Youāre pre-diabetic; youāre diabetic, your BS levels are still increasing, your blood pressureās a bit high, soās your cholesterol - you are watching what you eat, arenāt you? Finally, an excuse to stop I could happily grab hold of, ironically a part of my continuing bad health. A virulent dose of āflu (Iād never felt sufficiently germ-free to go for the free jab Iām entitled to) knocked me down to the extent that I just couldnāt face my traditional bedtime glass of wine or four. āMY EYEBALLS HURT!ā. āIāM COLD/BOILING/FREEZING!ā. 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 hasnāt returned so far. I had deliberately ignored ādry Januaryā - 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. (Iāve got as far as attending a couple of AA meetings before but the religious aspects, āthe drinkersā churchā as Rebus called it in one of his early stories, put me right off pursuing.) Tomorrow is the first of the milestones youāre encouraged to aim for. Iāve 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. SlĆ inte mhath!
*One Year No Beer
amandla
titsay
vaporwave
