Phase 14 : "I Think, Therefore I am.........Just..."

An Alcoholic has a inner voice. In fact everyone has an inner voice, but they don't always pay attention to it. Or the voice is just a whisper, and gets completely ignored. An Alcoholic, and me in particular, had an inner voice that was loud, and argumentative, and confident, and imaginative, and clever, and had all the answers. I wanted that voice to be my main voice, and I knew exactly how to "turn it up". Whilst I was sober, it sat quietly in the background. It needed the Vodka, like a flower needs water, to rise up and come to life. I liked it. I liked what it said. I liked how it formed opinions. I liked how it conjured up solutions to problems, to creative designs that were so implicit in my work, so I decided to try and write down what it was saying.
It didn't look as good when sober, not what I thought it was saying, and an all too different message seemed to be abundantly clear......
...."What with all these extremely brilliant things I think about, I really must document them. They will be dynamite for the future. These designs, these quotes. They're fantastic."..I thought to myself, as I woke that morning. Whilst thinking these thoughts, and deciding to buy a diary, I hadn't even realised that 3 gulps had gone by. I snap back into consciousness when I nearly drop my pint glass. "O, nearly spilt that. Mr careless..". I go through my customary routine that morning, and decide to browse the corner shop for cheap diaries. I check my change, "...£8.42, should be OK," I ponder. I found I have enough for both the diary and my daily Vodka allowance, so I buy both. The day goes pretty much as all the others recently, I think. Visited to the car during the day. Driving to a quiet spot at lunchtime, so as not to be spotted as I skip food and just spend the time in the driver seat, drinking. That evening I start writing. "This writing lark is difficult..." I think. I was right. Writing isnt easy. But, I dont mean writers block, or the panic of a blank page. No, I mean physically forming the words on a page, when the shakes are bubbling under the surface, and when the double vision comes and goes. Its like being a 5 year old again, trying to keep the words all horizontal, with lettering the same height. I scrawl something down every day, thinking it is some spectacular literative masterpiece. It is only later, when I look back and decipher the infantile lettering, that I make out the statement..
"Why I drink so much..."
There were even reasons, so I must have been trying to say something...

Phase 13 : Its water, honest....

Any reformed Alcoholic will tell you that they have done things that they regret. Some will tell you that they have done LOTS of things that they regret, others just wont remember things they have done, but they know they regret them. When those "things" are recalled later in life, when the Alcoholic haze has lifted from the memory palace, they become all to real. They "sting", just as thousands of needles would sting. You automatically wince at the image and the feelings that the regret conjure up. When those regretful things involve people close to you, people you love, and especially your children; the stings increase tenfold, and the shudder amplified. I look back at certain times, and hope that any effect on them, generates a positive future decision for them, not a negative one. One of many involved a holiday. The holiday itself was supposed to enjoyable.........
...with the car packed full of luggage, and toys, and all the other standard items for a weeks break on the South Coast, we set off. Just me, my 3 children, and 2 hour car journey ahead. However, in all the panic to get everything ready, my routine had been interrupted. My normal auto-pilot of Vodka induced breakfast, had been upset. I had not planned this well. Yes, I had planned the route. Yes, I had planned how we get all the stuff in. Yes, I had planned how to get the keys for the apartment. But. What I hadnt planned. Is how I stop my shaking, that would inevitably occur. How I would explain why I couldnt hold things still. The very thought of this was starting them off, with a vengeance. Driving was going to become extremely difficult, because i had noticed that recently, my legs were developing a quiver. The muscles were twitching of their own accord. Having to operate the pedals for any length of time without my Alcohol Settler was going to be downright dangerous. "I know", I thought, "I can pop to the shop first. Make some excuse. by a little bottle, few swigs, inside pocket, couple of mints, grab a comic for the kids, back in the car. Job done."
"Right then", I said "I've just gotta stop off, get some sweets. Who wants sweets?..", I glanced behind to see my kids strapped into their chairs, whooping at the request. "Yeah, yeah....can i come in the shop!"..."err, not really, gotta get you out, I know what you want, wont be long". "Ok, then.." they said innocently. I had the route through the shop already planned in my head, to be the quickest I could be, and it went to perfection. "Right; sweets, paper, comic, oh can I have a small bottle of Vodka, please..". The assistant turned and reached for it without looking. No time lost there then. I paid, put the things into a bag except the glass bottle, and stepped outside. Quick swig, or maybe two should do it. I turned away from the shop entrance, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed hard. It felt good at the time, and the shaking was subsiding already. Plan going well until...."There you are Daddy..." my eldest said behind me. I swung round quickly, to see that he had gotten out of the car to come in the shop. "Whats that?", he said pointing to the bottle, that was now half empty. My answer was a lie. A lie that he knew was a lie. But he didnt want to question me further. He didnt want to hear any more lies. But he knew what it was. I knew he knew, and that started to bring the shakes back. I had to continue to take the Alcohol, as secretly as I could, as the journey continued. The shaking in my legs was threatening to become uncontrollable. Any questions raised over what was in the bottle, from which I kept slurping from, was met with. "Its only water.......". They werent fooled for a minute.
.

Phase12 : "Off the record..."

If you wonder how an alcoholic makes it through the day without getting caught, keeping up a daytime job as if everything is normal, trying to lead normal outward behaviour as if a non-drinker, then the answer is they dont!. They just think they do. They think that no-one has noticed the slight change of mood, the daytime dissappearances, the excuses at lunchtime, the physical appearance change, and the overpowering unmistakeable odour of drink. I thought it was all invisible. How wrong I was, looking back. An how taken aback I was when my boss confronted me about it for the first time......
......."Come in, take a seat" he said, "over there.", and he pointed to a particular chair directly opposite his. It was not busy in the office today, but he still insisted on closing his door, rather than leaving it slightly ajar, as normal. This is obviously serious. Projects?, workload? cant be appraisal? The adrenaline started to kick in, which was starting to counter act the normal Vodka start to the day, that I had become so reliant upon. I had brought my cup of coffee with me, but just thinking about reaching for it made my arm noticeably quiver. Oh how I needed my sure-fire remedy now. 2 mouthfuls, thats all it would take then Polo mint after. Result would be no more shakes. My customary swigs, just after I parked in the car park, and just before I prepared for the dya ahead, were well and truly negated now. As I contemplated, I hadn't noticed him sitting down. My attention was drawn just in time, as he started to speak. "It has come to my attention, that a number of people have commented that you seem to smell a lot recently of....... Alcohol....", he paused at the word, waiting for me to react. I kept as still as I could, trying as much as I have ever in my life, to stop shaking. I looked surprised, or as best as I could imagine what surprise would be, then replied. "I'm not sure I know what you mean?". Had I slurred my answer? Had my mask of invisibility been swept away, to reveal the Alcoholic beneath. The next few minutes involved questions about talking honestly, and openly, and that help is available for those with "problems". I did not flinch for a second. Instead, denied EVERYTHING, and gave some lame excuses. I came out of the office, and went for a little walk. Somewhere that I knew, or thought I knew, a welcoming voice would be. That voice would be mine, my "inner voice", after having swigged 3 more mouthfuls of the clear Russian brew.
I now realise that being called "blind drunk", was ironic, in my case. It did not refer to slightly blurry eyes, or clumsy. No. I was "blind" to what everone else could see. I was blind to what was happening to me mentally, physically and emotionally. I was "blind", and I was a "drunk".

http://cafe2iols9tmpkctuswimpgjtt.hop.clickbank.net/    This help.

Phase 11 : "Good Morning, can I have a word.......in private?"

Coincidences happen, I believe, and always have. The moment you think of a friend or relative, and at that same instant the phone rings, with them speaking as you answer. The moment you have a song in your mind as you switch on the radio, to be met with the sound of that song echoing through the speakers. Some people say its more than coincidence. that its some divine, or supernatural, event. However, some people like to use the excuse of coincidence, to hide another reason. I was that person, and looking back, coincidence played no part in the following....
....."Half an hour early for work today", I think, as I settle behind my desk at 8:00am. Have still got 30 minutes till Monday really starts. Could've spent a bit longer in bed, but had to get up anyway. I foolishly left the Vodka in the kitchen last night, so needed to get up in order to "cure" the shakes this morning. Didnt seem much point in returning back to bed after finishing the glassful. The "warming" fluid succeeded in keeping the cold at bay, as well as taking its customary 30 seconds to settle the quake that developed in both arms this morning. "It really is magical", I think, "that my morning "sip" works so quickly... My mind snaps back to work, and I get my bits ready for a days work. My boss walks past at 8:15 and looks over to me, almost directly AT me. I nod, and we exchange 'hello, morning..'. This seems to be becoming a habit, I think. He seems to be almost 'noting' the time I'm in every morning. Almost mentally checking out whether I am "ok". Almost checking that I look smart, clean and respectable, as the Senior Position I currently hold, demands. Maybe its coincidence that as I think he`s doing it, he does it. Oh well. Others are arriving with tales on their how their weekend invovled "getting hammered", and only just recovering. I dont go out drinking like they do. In fact I dont go out. Except to the bottle bank. ".I wish they did withdrawls rather than just deposits", I think, and lightly chuckle to myself. Another coincidence. Me thinking about withdrawls.Withdrawls would take on a whole new meaning later on...I just didnt know it at the time.
Throughout that morning, I continue to do what I have been doing habitually recently. Popping out to the car park on a regular basis. Peering around as I settle into the seat, quickly glancing around to check if I'm being viewed. Slide it out from under the seat, 3 quick gulps from the glass Vodka bottle, cap back on, and slide it back. All over in 2 minutes, and no-one knows. Quick wipe of the lips with the back of my hand. Others nip out for a fag break, I nip out for "my" drink break. They smoke maybe 5 a day, and I count the same. I'm back to my desk before anyone knows I`m gone.
I continue to type on my computer. Some boring report, or something, when my email tone beeps. Incoming mail from the IT department, it seems. Oh well, need a break from this boring text, so I'll read their mail now. "Update to Companies Terms & Conditions. Addendum to Health & Safety Procedure....". I feel like deleting it straight away, but accidentally press "open". Possibly an accident, possibly something made me do it.
It outlines the addition to the policy regarding "Drugs & Alcohol at Work". I read on and it outlines how the company will discipline employees under influences of alcohol. (Discipline!!). That any form of alcohol, is not permitted on the premises. (None at all!!) That breath-testing, either random or enforced, is now to be used. (Breath testing!!) That individuals are able to disclose admitted conditions, for sympathetic treatment.  (yeah, right!!) Where did all this come from? This cant be legal? What if I refuse? Why does my boss look at me every morning?. As I read on I sense someone behind me. Whoever they are, they know I`m reading this intently. Without turning round, I know its my boss.

"Glad to see you're reading that.... have you got a minute? In my office..."

Phase 10 : When time stands still...

Drinking alcohol kills brain cells. FACT. Drinking lots of alcohol kills lots of brain cells. Another FACT. However, brain cells can regenerate, yet another FACT. All fascinating stuff, I know, and some people will pay more attention to one of those facts than others. But within all that there is a simple equation, that, when put together does explain a lot. And something that somebody with a potential future involving excess alcohol should consider.
Killing brain cells at a faster rate than they regenerate ultimately leads to serious problems. Continual "drowning" of the cerebral tissue with pure alcohol causes a whole host of serious side effects including memory loss, disorientation, and...... errr....... memory loss. If you couple this with the incredible desire to fall asleep in an instant, anytime, anywhere can lead to quite interesting, and looking back on one of my own, rather unsettling experiences.....
....."Blimey, that was another lucky day", I thought. Lucky that I won the lottery?, no. Lucky that I got that parking space just in time? no. These days my "luck" was reserved for not meeting a police car doing breath testing, or not having to use the mechanical lathe at work, that could tear off my finger without thinking. "Then again.." I thought again, "...you make your own luck, dont you. You can get run over just crossing the street [particularly if I'm the one doing the driving these days]...". I put the carrier bag on the side of the unit, and unscrew the red label before I even remove it from the bag. Another visit to the shop complete, though didnt have enough money for fizzy lemon. Current mixer of choice, though all it does is add a touch of colour to the clear vodka. "Should change to orange.." I think, as I grab the pint glass still left from last night..."all this lemon is giving me acid indigestion [obviously cant be the 40%ABV acid I continue to line it with]..". I look at the clock and notice its just turned 4:00. Finishing work on a friday at 3:45 means that the weekend starts early. For me though, over the last 5 years, there never has really been a Thank-God-Its-Friday. That used to signify the end of work, and the start of play, including having a beer for 2 days. Not me though. My last 5 years has been one continual drink. No pauses for "school-days" as they are called. But hey, I'm single now. Divorced, I'll admit, but plenty of free time, so why should I justify this behaviour to anyone. What harm am I doing? Others would be only jealous if they knew. Anyway, enough of this self-thought, time to spend the evening on the PC, using my new found drink induced self-assurance. Mr Comedy, thats me. But first......[Glop, Glop, Glop......Glop], half a glass full, and a touch of lemon from the dregs left in the bottle from yesterday. I hold the half-pint of Vodka up to the light. The touch of lemon wasnt enough to stop me seeing through it. The first 2 gulps "burn" their way down, and I swallow hard, closely followed by the eyes closed hard, and that head shiver. I top up immediately what I had emptied, and carry it over to the PC, logging on to the chat sites to see whose on-line. I'm feeling extremely drained today, and things are a struggle. Height of the summer I suppose, heat exhaustion maybe. Haven't got to move from the chair much, so thats OK. As the evening seems to wear on, I dont notice the time as it flies by. I start to become accustomed to the screen as the double-vision kicks in. The solution of closing one eye is immediate, and effective. The glass is always to hand, as is the bottle. I can even alternate which eye after a while, so problem solved... Both eyes seem unduly heavier than normal though, and I start to struggle to at least leave one open. Blinking becomes more frequent, and a lot slower. To the point that the "open" portion has stopped completely, and I lapse into one of my frequent "knocked-out" sleeps......
....something wakes me, with a start!!. My eyes are usually difficult to prise open, but this time something has sprung them open. I feel as though I have slept for a long while so I look outside, and its light. The clock says 7:50!, got 40 minutes before I need to be at work. My body may have been asleep, but my mind knew it was time to get up. Clever. I think this as I get up off the bed quickly [dont remember moving to it last night...], and all sorts of my routine are thrashing round in my head. I decide to save time by running the shower THEN getting undressed. Should save a couple of seconds. Lay out todays clothes, get todays liquid provisions ready. In shower, wash, out, dry, dressed. Right. Time? 8:15. Should still make it. This new flat being nearby is handy. I'm in the car and get to the car park just in time. Still time for a quick glug though, and looking around there arent many cars about to see me [glug, glug..]. Hold on. Why aren't there many cars? why is the radio station not familiar?
It was then that it hit me. It wasnt 7:50am when I woke. It was 7:50pm. I had only just had a nap. My sleep was only about 20minutes, yet it felt like 10hours. But my body had gone into shut-down though. A deep shut-down. How I laughed at the time. I saw it as an opportunity to drive back, and continue the evening as I had planned. Confusion was forgotten...

....its only now that I realise that it wasnt just one of those things, or an event to laugh-off.
My brain was, quite literally, trying to open my eyes and ironically, give me a "wake-up-call"......

Phase 9 : Seeing things in Stereo...

Remember those old films, and black-and-white science fiction series, showing experimental laboratories, where shelves and shelves hold glass jars of all sizes, with latex modelled organs and brains. Sometimes "pulsing" or "throbbing", or on the more cheesy far-fetched ones, 'talking' to a badly acted lab assistant in the white coat. How ironic that the liquid used for the preserving tended to be alcohol. Surely, then, alcohol must keep it in tip-top shape. It must help to maintain its function?
I used to notice, from early on in my drinking career, that I could tell when alcohol was adversely affecting my brain function. I could control the "unsteadyness" to some degree. I learnt the language of "speaking without slurring", very quickly. These skills I honed to perfection, and they came in extremely handy during later drinking life. They never gave anyone an "outside" clue, to the "inside" condition. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself getting double vision. The moment when the world seems to split, into 2 identical images, albeit slightly out of alignment, and next to each other, rather than on top of each other. Almost a camera trick, you might see on a 1980's pop video. It was unnerving when I first started drinking, and even more bizarre when it re-occurred in later life, but I found a cure...
...."Gotta long drive today, so best make sure I have enough provisions". The recognisable "clank" of the glass bottles nestled in the carrier bag rhythmically chimed, as I walked to the car. The remainder of yesterdays in one, and, obviously, a fresh one just in case a shop isn't near, in the other. A litre of water weighs 1kg exactly, so assuming Vodka is equal, then no wonder the bag is cutting into my fingers. 1.5kg gets heavy after a while. I make sure that after settling into the driver seat, I unscrew the sealed cap on the unopened bottle, before setting off. Tricky to do that whilst trying to change gear, and driving, so best to be prepared. Slide that one under the passenger seat first, with the narrow neck of the top facing forward. Easy to reach and grab when needed. The half full bottle has just enough space to slide in next. A couple of "nerve settlers" before I position it though. Throat seems a little sore today, so the liquid "bites" a bit more than usual. The third "gulp" makes me wince slightly, and rub my chest, just at the top of my ribcage. I have found this little "technique" good at taking my mind off of the inevitable urge of my stomach to try and repel this liquid breakfast. As I rub the spot focussing on this movement, and make small little gulps of residual liquid in my mouth, I breath through my nose. Doing this for about 10 seconds quells this urge, and I am on my way. I have to find a different technique later, as this one no longer works, and occasionally my stomach wins the fight. Whereby I decorate my dashboard with recently ejected alcoholic spray. But not today.
Today seemed like any other day. I think. Except today 2 things were to happen, and those 2 things happened exactly at the same time. I could see them happening, and couldnt stop them. The traffic lights suddenly became 2 red, then 2 amber, and 2 green. I looked around and where I always remember a single "give way" sign, someone had positioned two. My eyes darted from left to right, as best as I could manage at 10 in the morning, but everwhere I looked a duplicate of everything had appeared. This was going to test my driving skills, thats for sure. The road ahead doubled in lanes to choose, only the problem was that there was double the amount of cars occupying them. I didnt panic though. With my new found imaginative sense. My new aptitude for problem solving, I came up with the answer. It was one that I would use for many a month to come, as the double world appeared more regularly.
I shut one eye.
The "other" world immediately dissappeared, and I had the answer I thought I needed.
What I failed to realise was that rather than being purposely blind in one eye, I was completely blinded in both, to the "real" world.

Phase 8: I cant be an alcoholic, I dont get hangovers...

I dont get hangovers so I obviously dont drink too much. Sure, I'm always "burning up", feeling hot, sweaty and occasionally tired. But never a hangover. In fact I can't remember the last time I had a headache. So what are all these stupid thoughts about drinking too much. This "little voice", trying to make out I should be leading the 'perfect' lifestyle. 22 units a week they say. Then in the next breath its "a glass of red wine a day is good for you", "alcohol thins the blood, and you dont want clogged arteries...". Mixed messages. They give them to you to "appear" as though they are experts. Yet they give you the choice to decide for yourself. I know which ones I am going to believe.
Come to think of it, I have been "counting my units" recently, but there again everyones different. In fact only last week the doctor was quizzing me on various things. Nothing to worry about, just a routine visit, as I had changed doctors because of a house move .I woke that morning slightly more anxious than normal....

Some things seemed to be swimming around in my mind last night. Things that weren't good things. So many problems building, so few solutions, or ways out of them. (Keep promising myself to get round to writing that list of things that need sorting, then again the very thought of it sends a shiver down my spine). I'm shivering now. I shouldn't be. I'm still in the clothes I wore yesterday. Must have fallen asleep dressed again. Made it to the bed this time though, not halfway up the stairs, or the toilet. Lying here staring at the ceiling, the thoughts from last night seem even bigger. There goes the jittery hand again. Hold on, I know just the thing.... 3 swigs should do it. Lick of the lips, and wait for stomach to settle (ha, it should say that on the label. No room though. Not with all this 40%ABV stuff they seem to put on). Should take effect before the 9:00 appointment. Whats the time now?. Eyesight not what it used to be. Yet another problem. More glasses, more expense. Where did I put my glasses last night?. The ridges in the middle of my nose suggest they were on my face when I went to sleep. Be on the floor here somewhere. (CRUNCH). There they are. Oh, still got my shoes on too. Definitely will need a new pair. Time says 7:55, just over an hour to go. No time for breakfast, then again never get hungry in the mornings.
8:45 now. Got undressed, showered, dressed again. Seemed a waste really. then again, can't go to the doctors smelling can I. Mouthwash should help. I can feel the 2 other gulps of crystal clear Vodka I had not more than 2 minutes ago working already. My nerves have completely dissappeared....
..."Oh no doctor, never smoked in my life", I reply truthfully to the small stern looking gentlemen sitting across from me, typing away on a screen I cannot see, as we speak. He doesn't look at me as he asks the questions. Just enquires,..then types.
..."and how many units you would you say that you drink...per week". He stops typing, and turns. Only this time his eyes look directly at mine, and his body appears to be leaning slightly forward. His nose is twitching, as if he is trying to smell something. Cant say 22. That'll be too obvious. He'll smell a rat (or something). "...errrm dunno really, bout 30?". I say it as a question to check his response. His nose twitches again, and his expression has changed. To one of disbelief (if there is such an expression). He writes something down on a card, in pencil. Obviously a prescription of some sort. Maybe some vitamins or something. The next question is strange..
"Do you drive regularly, ......." he asks. I reply "every day...", and try to look directly at him as I do so. His expression has subtly changed to concern, and he passes me the card. "I suggest you contact these people.., before its too late."
It said   "AA  - Breakdown Recovery".
It took a few seconds to realise he didnt mean the car repair company. It was only later (much, much later)that I realised that it is an ,even more, apt title..........

Phase 7 : Weather report said dark clouds gathering....

I look forward to bedtime. Nothing beats the feeling of a clean quilt, pillows and sheets. Only trouble is I wish I could remember the last time that happened. Could've been yesterday the way my memory is failing me recently. Musn't let the stresses of work play on my mind. Need something to help relax me before I turn in for the night. Need to open another bottle, just emptied the last one. Oh well, that'll save a job in the morning. Gulp, gulp. Ahh. Wait for the tightening in the stomach. Small quick little swallows of saliva to help quell the reflux trying to return the triple distilled russian nightcap. Relax and breath and all better now.
The good thing about the first part of sleep, is that you are conscious enough to conjure up the world you always wanted. To be the character you'd love to be able to act out in real life. You can excude confidence, and charisma. Be the life and sole, surrounded by people who admire you. Not a problem in sight. No money worries, health issues, happy relationship. Its great in this world. Such a contrast to real life. Im going to revel in this fantasy....... world...........being............ ZZZzzzzzz.

Dont feel so good this morning. The harsh realities of real life flooding my thoughts, sending my heart racing a little. Things seem to be always going wrong, and I feel as though I am fire-fighting all the time. Problems are becoming huge, with each one as important as the next. How come everyone else seems under control. I need my thinking head on. A few gulps should do it. Glug, glug. Now its time to get up. Maybe I'll find some enthusiasm with the next swig.

I used to have a positive attitude to things. Always upbeat and controlled. Not recently though. Starting to worry about worrying. Mood seems different. Darker. Can play the fool, yeah, when chatting online. Always got the witty repost, the clever one-liner. Everyone thinks how funny I am. Wrote something down the other day. Dont remember it at the time, but something made me do it.
"Now I know why clowns have to paint the smiles on their faces."
I think I understand what it means...