Three cheers for three years

Yup. Three years. Three years. Insane?! I don’t know where to start. The short clip I posted of me singing, waking up to incredibly positive wonderful comments.

The status I put on Facebook and so many congratulations . .

And I feel but what?! I haven’t done anything. But I have. And it is a celebration. Because life can still be so hard, because it’s life, but life is so good. The life I have, that I’ve fought tooth and nail for. That you guys helped me hold on to when I was only grasping with finger nails.

Worth celebrating. Yes it fucking is.

So three fucking cheers to three years.

Being sober fucking rules!

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Hey Y’all <3

Gosh, it’s been a while. Still sober. Ha, writing that I wanted to put ‘obviously’ or ‘why would I be anything else’ – funny how complement I get about it most of the time. But still there are those days – where I am necking down N/A beers or doing all the ‘things’ to make sure I don’t drink.. they don’t happen often, but when they do. WOW – I remember that I am an addict. And FUCK THAT SHIT I WILL NOT SUCCUMB AND I WILL GET THROUGH.

Ha – not at all what I was going to write! I just checked – it’s been TWO MONTHS since I last wrote. And it’s only a few weeks until I’m 3 years sober. THREE YEARS! Longer or less? I can’t decide. And what shall I do? I thought perhaps I should do a ‘thing’ – then thought I might just go get ice cream and sit on the harbour front and think and walk. Because I love doing that.

So much has happened in these two months. I spent almost 3 weeks in Europe with my family & friends, having the most fabulous time. It was unpaid time off, so man I’ve been feeling it – but worth every cent. I had the most wonderful time with everyone I saw (ok, one exception) and the overwhelming love I felt for my friends and family – for where I am in life, where our relationships have got to – some people, it’s been rocky. I was so excited, I was worried it wouldn’t live up to my expectations (that I tried not to have, but hey, I’m human – SO excited) and it exceeded everything.

I was worried coming back would be hard. It’s the first time I’ve ever flown into this airport and thought ‘I don’t want to be here.’ Which was very strange. But it didn’t last long at all. I met someone. As fucking always, cause it’s me, nothing happened.. and this person lives in another country – but this was pretty monumental. It was a mutual feeling (I found out after a super honest conversation, ‘I really fancy you.’ Ha!) This person is a woman. I’ve fancied women before, like REALLY fancied, but never truly explored the idea of having a gf – for various reasons, that I’m finding fascinating to think of myself, and write about in my paper journal. But the world’s a little different now – though only a couple of people know. Things make a little more sense too. I feel better in my own skin. Am I gay? I don’t know. Does it matter to me? Not so much. I told a friend I was bi when I was 13. She kinda shrugged it off. Even since I’ve been sexual I’ve been drunk. What matters is that I’ve opened my eyes to dating women, and it just makes sense. Take each day, each encounter. Who knows. Interestingly I had a one off session with my old therapist (man I miss her!) over Skype, and the week before she’d been at a conference about sexual identity and its fluidity. ha.

The woman is American, and I still have some sort of hope, but, if not.. hey ho.. meeting her, and the overwhelming, head over heels feelings I had (have) for her led me to picking up my guitar and writing and singing and writing and singing, and even sending stuff to people, and now going to try and put some songs on soundcloud and get to some open mic nights. Which is another monumental thing for me. To sing in front of people, my words, being vulnerable is the most scary, and most wanted thing for me. It’s insane that I’ve done so much, even as a scared teenager – I was an activist, but I couldn’t sing in front of people, even though it was my biggest wish.

To the world I seem the same, but to me, wow – things are changing. Things have changed so much. And all of this is because I got sober. It’s been so hard. Some of the revelations cut me as deep as they did when I first had them. But they’re real, I’m okay, and it’s okay to hurt, be sad, to scream, to cry.

And being sober, the main gift it’s given me is honesty. To myself and to others. Through honesty I’m happier, my relationships are better, for everyone.

Bring on the three years. Bring on the ice cream! ❤

 

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Rollin rollin rollin

Rich Roll – I love this guy. Addict, vegan, ultra runner. (Don’t let the last bit put you off!) so down to Earth – great guests, many who are addicts and have amazing, humble, funny stories s

The reason I share this is currently listening to an interview and they are discussing how when you think about giving up, especially as an addict, suddenly you seem to have your whole life planned out and how could you possibly do without X… made me laugh out loud. I remember sitting at my desk in London genuinely worrying about how could I survive not having champagne at my wedding. With the non exist fiancé.. with the non existent boyfriend. Hahahaha.

One day at a time. I recovered from Friday. It reminded me how I’m an addict through and through. But I’m now an addict with tools and support and a great life. I held on with everything I had and here I am. Doing alright. Everyone says (and does) have down days – but I’m not sure everyone, for no reason (ie not a death or break up) has days they have to sit on their hands and drink non alcoholic beers to stop themselves from harming themselves or drinking.. but if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. But gosh, it can be damn scary. I guess it doesn’t matter – but I ponder it because I assume everyone must know this pain and struggle, but often if I start to vocalise it I can see they really don’t. But I’ve always been known to feel deeply, extremely. Hey Ho. That’s why meetings and blogs are vital eh? 💕

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Urgh

Working from home. Had a meltdown. Cried. Went for a run. Didn’t get out the rage. Cried more. And now drinking my 2nd non alcoholic beer. It’s 1pm.

Urgh.

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Honesty

It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d written a post with this title before. Sat on the floor, half on my yoga mat, candle flickering beside me. Just did a 20 minute bedtime practice. I feel so calm. I had a very exciting weekend. I laughed so much. I danced, I hardly got any sleep, I flirted, I did a medical course (Emergency First Response) and though I took what I was learning very seriously, I laughed a lot – made a new proper friend (I think!)

The guy I flirted with – the first time I met him there was a spark. And it seems its mutual, though nothing happened. He doesn’t live in the same country. But really this post isn’t about him. I’ve just been thinking about honesty, and how, now, for the first time ever, I feel honest. To myself, to others. When I’m feeling shit, I don’t always talk about it straight away, but even when the clouds started clearing I had to tell me close friends how awful it had been, and that I knew I could reach out, but I didn’t want to. Other times, I do want to, and now, I do. Even though it’s hard. But it helps.

The words I say, at work, in my personal life – I’m honest. The way I act, the way I try to live by my beliefs, they are honest. Including knowing my hypocrisies. I’m not saying being honest makes me infallible. When I say something I mean it. So many other people say things when they are drunk. Did they mean it? No? Yes? But now shying away from it, because they are scared? Embarrassed? Sobriety not only has made me see the importance of being honest, but the benefits of it. If I am me, and me, generally is okay, and people don’t like that? There is nothing more I can, or more importantly, want to do to make them change that view.  If I say what I think, what I feel, and I get rejected, sure it hurts – fuck it can hurt. But, hmmm, actually sometimes I do hold back. And 100% that is the right thing to do.. but in almost all (if not all) these situations, I tell my friends what I’m feeling, or family.

I always thought I was honest, but I lied to myself, to my friends. The pain I felt, the pain I caused myself. And trying to escape all the time. And at it’s worst I really was living a double life. Looking back, and I know I’ve written this, I can see how hurt my friends were – because, I had been keeping things from them. Of course I did. But to put myself in their position, I would feel sad, and probably a little betrayed too. But the important friendships have been rebuilt.

This post isn’t at all what I wanted it to be. I can’t quite seem to articulate what I feel should be said in once, perhaps two simple sentences about honesty. How precious it is. That if you live by it, nothing else matters. You can be questioned and told you are wrong, but if you believe in what you are saying there is nothing more you can do. Nothing more.

I suppose in some ways I have been pretty true to me. I thought about trying to be someone else a few times in my life, but it never lasted long. I was always the weirdo. I still get called weird all the time. I know I am. It’s okay. When I look at societies norm, I don’t want to be that person. There is nothing wrong with it, but that’s not me. Yet, at the same time – if I say I’m weird, people rush, supposedly to my defence, saying ‘no one is normal…’ But, there are societal norms. Some people are more ‘normal’ than others. And many of the things I enjoy most are things that make me sound weird. So what. Then people compliment me for being weird. It’s all very confusing.. so really, as long as I’m honest with how I want to be, and act in good faith (which I always try to) and smile a lot – I do that too – weird, not weird, cool, not cool – all of that is other people’s shit, not mine.

 

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1000 days

Yup. Yes siree. That’s me! I was having brunch with a friend who also doesn’t drink (but never really did) and thought HOLD ON! So I checked on my phone and yup, 1000 days! Not sure if it seems more or less than that but ONE THOUSAND sounds like a number that should be recognised. So here I am.

I took one of my old diaries down to the beach this afternoon as I wanted to re-read the entries about a yoga retreat a couple years back for another blog post I’m doing. As I opened it I realised it was my diary from when I first gave up booze ‘for a year.’ I read about 1/5th of the journal. Wow. HUGE gaps between entries, but I that’s because I was always writing in here. Where as now I try to write in my paper journal every (few) day(s), but not so much on here. Which ultimately is good, as most of my day to day isn’t booze related anymore. AND WOW HOW MUCH IT WAS.

It was hard to read, but also so fascinating. There was so much struggle. So much fight. So much pain. But fuck – I got through it all!!! I knew it was hard, I knew there were a lot of demons, but WOW – even I forgot how hard, how many. There is some extreme self loathing in there too. Extreme. And I can picture exactly where I was writing them nd how I felt. And the entries that make no sense but I just needed to write and write. How obsessed I was with alcohol, EVERY DAMN MOMENT. How EVERYTHING was about booze. The buzziness of the mind. I think it’s bad sometimes now? Ha! It ain’t got nothing on two years ago!!

One early paragraph really stood out for me.

‘I’m on the early start (sic – is there any other type of start?) of a journey. A tough tough journey. Bit I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. It feels like a joke, ‘I don’t drink,’ but  I can’t do it anymore. I’m so exhausted. Of trying, of failing, but I go on.’

And on I did, and on I continue. Thank you all. This community gave me so much strength. And here I am, in a place I never thought I’d be, doing things I never thought I could do. Feeling more mentally and physically well, with better relationships with others; friends, family, and perhaps most importantly, myself.

Love. x

 

 

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Update?!

Gosh, what extremes. After that meltdown things did get better. But I feel.. as if I’ve been really sick, that kind of sick when I sleep by the toilet because I can’t leave it’s side. But then I feel better. And it’s been a little while since I was last ill. But I’m fragile, and cautious… but can vaguely remember what it’s like to feel okay, and look forward to, and enjoy not being sat by the toilet.

Ha. Beautiful analogy eh.

But I do think things are looking up. I went away this weekend – not out the country but on an overnight camp/dive trip. Day one was testing. Bad vis, strained eyes, feeling a little :/ but I got through it all – the sun shined, the scenery was glorious, and I did see some marine life – I slept on a tent on a beach.. the next day; I felt peace: that seed of contentment. Overwhelmed by the majesty of the hills around me, the peace of the underwater world.

I told a couple of friends how low I’d been feeling. It was weird how telling them also lifted something – like I wasn’t lying to them. An of course they were wonderful. Because of course they care. Of course. It makes me so angry how I get myself into thinking otherwise. That dark black heavy cloud. It’s so insulting to them as friends, who’ve helped me through so much – what is it with the human condition?! All is well, life is short… yeh shaking the blackness is so hard. The shit at work probably isn’t helping.

I even thought that if I wanted to drink again I’d have to move back to London as I couldn’t be a drunk here – it just would work. What stupid thoughts. Gone now.

It’s past my bed time.

Thank you for your support – 💕 xxx

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