Phase 19 : I'm a "Glass Half Full" kinda guy. [GULP] Now its gone...

After 30 months of being Alcohol free, still means, though, that I am an Alcoholic. And I have found one major side effect of this journey into abstinence. In some ways, I dont want it to go, because it is a reminder.
It is that I get extremely annoyed now with others who get drunk. Theres an internal dilemma as the feelings of irrittation and intolerance starts to build up inside, as I watch others making complete fools of themselves. I dont want to "temper" these emotions, as it is this unwanted passiveness that I found was "cured" with the addition of Vodka. Being able to express these thoughts, without the "dutch" courage, is an achievement in itself. However, it portrays the impression of a "jealous" alcoholic even more. "Your only jealous because they can and you cant..." is the trademark response. "Youv'e had your fun, let them have theirs.."
In some small way, there is some envy. Not envy as regards "letting my hair down". More so envious that they can do one thing, that I will never do for the rest of my life.

Phase 18 : Stewed Liver and Onions. One makes you cry, the other ones an onion...

Being an Alcoholic should mean that I wake up every morning with temptation tugging at my first thoughts of the day. That taking each day as it comes means breathing a sigh of relief, at the end of each alcohol free day achieved. Or that is what I have been lead to believe. However, I want to be in a mind state that "not" thinking about what I have achieved that day becomes the norm. After all I dont mentally slap myself on the back for not taking up smoking that day, or refusing that last doughnut. Thinking about "not" drinking, means thinking about drinking not done, thinking about drinking resisted, thinking about drinking. The same way telling someone to not think about a banana, makes them think about, not thinking about, a banana. I may be fooling myself, in the thought that I will always take it for granted I dont drink. It may be reckless to be "letting my guard down", by not constantly reinforcing to myself that "its one more day", and "theres another challenge round the corner, be prepared". I think that reinforcing the positive aspects, without even mentioning alcohol, is a more effective future strategy.
I am delighted with my confidence, and assertiveness, and stubborness (yes, a good trait if used correctly), and ability to walk in a straight line, and remember the following day.

Phase 17 : Whisky's horrible. So hold your nose, then you dont taste it...

Being an Alcoholic, I think I can speak with some degree of "expertise" on the subject. As if, "expertise" is the right word. Makes it sound like an intellectual education on a subject. then again, I did study it for many years. Many, many years. And always willing to take the oral examination, on a daily basis. In large quantities.
I think that the difference between a drunk, and an alcoholic, is that you can easily spot a drunk. They stand out, (or rather "not-stand", out). They care not for the opinions others may have of them, and am only too willing, and forceful, to discuss it in a loud & slurred mannner. They have no secrets, are not putting up a facade. They have, in some peculiar way, an acceptance of where they are in life, and who they have become. They are "happy" being a drunk.
An Alcoholic, on the other hand, needs the alcohol to prevent becoming somebody they dont like. They are not necessarily "happy" with who they are, but they are determined to do what it takes to not be the "unhappy" person lurking inside. They slip into character easily (and in my case around 3am when the first few gulps of Vodka started the chemical process off), and keep it continually topped up during the day. An alcoholic relishes the cloak of secrecy, and deception they beleive they have created, and it is that, that gives them false contentment.
My cloak has well and truly been discarded, as I dont need to keep the shivers at bay any more.

Phase 16 : Every journey starts with a single step..

Being an Alcoholic means that at some point in your life, Alcohol ruled. Some might argue, it may have been right from the start, you just didnt know it yet. Some may think, that it is in the past, and you have overcome its rule. Again, the debate on "never being free from it", is entirely individual in my book. As an alcoholic myself, I believe that thinking the thoughts that work for you, are your solution, and if they are working then stick with them They may not be someone elses, but they will have their own remedy for abstinence.
I sometimes think back to my drinking days (which were only 2 1/2 years ago, though it seems longer), and wince at the journey I was making. This wasnt the journey to sobriety. This was a much simpler trip. In fact, a short walk of no more than 600 yards.....
"...the swelling in my foot is becoming ever more noticeable", I think to myself as wait, yet again, on the rest benches outside the local shop. "Seem more noticeable by others, who comment on it. And come to think of it I've noticed it more recently when trying to put my shoes on every morning. That in itself is becoming a problem, and affecting my schedule timings for waking up to, leaving for work. I am having to set my alarm 2 minutes earlier to ensure the liquid breakfast of Vodka gulps (3 now), isnt reduced. The physical act of bending over to put on my socks is physically challenging by the ever enlarging stomach, and proportionally growing ankles. In fact now I look more closely, both ankles are enlarged." I instinctively look down.".. and the swelling seems to be moving ever upward, slowly, day by day, week by week." The "water tablets" are no use, so cant be fluid retention". Seems ironic that you take them with a glass of water, or in my case substitute the word Water for Vodka.
I try to convince myself that it will dissappear. That as if by magic, my skin fits again. My diagnosis was absolutely spot on. My body was retaining fluid. My liver was drowning, as was my kidneys, lungs, and most of the other internal organs. I couldn't walk more than about 50 yards without rest, because my feet were swollen, my legs were swollen, my lungs were being crushed internally by fluid, and my energy levels had dissappeared long ago. I wasnt giving this a moments thought, as I sat on the cold, wet bench. Contemplating the next 50 yards, in the same way that Edmund Hilary pondered the vast climb in front of him. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that the shop I was headed for had Vodka at a Special Price today. Cant miss that....
This determination and stubborness is a trait that would come to my aid, much, much later, for a much more beneficial outcome . And all the while I remain sober, now, I know that these qualities, when used in the right way, help me to maintain a alcohol-free lifestyle.

Phase 15 : "Never Mix Grape'n'Grain.... use 2 glasses".

As an Alcoholic, I was living the life I thought was working for me. I welcomed the "mental" freedom, that a Vodka fix can give, especially first thing in the morning. To some, its a euphoric wave, a rush of adrenalin, that has to be topped up continually. To me, though, it was as if someone had lifted the "self-censor". The "little voice" or filter, that kept stopping me doing things I had always wanted to do, but stopped myself. I mean, being more spontaneous. having a freedom of speech, and language, that I didnt think I could do without the alcoholic push.
In some ways, looking back, it amazes me that I felt this way. I can be all those things now, and remember them this time. I can be assertive, and confident, and funny, and at the same time know that my liver is not getting drowned in Vodka. All of these posts are not necessarily in the right order, as they happened. But they all happened. I'm glad I can remember them now, because being able to remember them means I took my doctors advice. "If you take another drink, you'll probably be dead within a year...". Not long after starting to document my thoughts (see previous post), I started to think dark thoughts. Very dark thoughts. And death wasnt far from my mind then either...
....."Not feeling well today, in fact my head hurts on the inside, as well as the outside", I thought as i tried desperately to lumber out from under the quilt. It stank of last nights sweat, and I'm sure some other bodily fluids, that had leaked whilst asleep. I'd felt bad for 3 days now, and it was unusual. I hadnt left my room much, and my bed not much more. The quilt felt so warm, and, despite the odour, inviting. Every time I rose, I yearned to get back underneath. i couldnt keep still though. Fidgeting, and twitching. Mind spinning. Rations starting to get low, but dont even feel well enough to venture out. Sleep. Thats what I need. But everytime I close my eyes due to their extraordinary apparent weight, the darkness appears. Everything seems worse in the dark, yet in some ways it feels comfortable. To be hidden away behind my eyelids means I can escape from everything else. I can be in a place thats as I want it to be. I can conjure up the world I wish. Opening my eyes means transporting myself back to reality. And thats a place I dont want to be. I could be here forever if I wanted to.
Do I want to?, do I really want to?.
The darkness got darker, and the desire to act got greater. It was a solution, and so I acted. The voice in my ears replied to my question.
"Hello there, you've got through to the Samaritans.. how can I help you today?"
Thankfully, I had spotted, the tiny microscopic pin-prick of light, at the centre of the blackness, and acted on that, before that had gone out for good.

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.
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