Momentum is Everything

Kid's Toys.  Noticed how children's toys are totally over-packaged?  A big rattling box, colorful glossy printing, plastic moulds to hold the product in place.  The toy is clearly visible, yet still wrapped up and untouchable.  Maybe you can touch a tiny little part of it, and there is a hole for you finger with "TRY ME" and an arrow pointing  - so you touch it and there is a noise or reaction - but you still can't REALLY have it.  Not until you buy it and unwrap it.  But within 48 hours of purchase, the toy lies on the floor, ignored.

So what has this got to do with sobriety?  Well, I was just over at another blog  Sober For a Year and was inspired to write about momentum.  How momentum can flag and pale and become that ignored toy on the floor.

Just like drinking.  Now I have worked pretty much flat out for the last eight days, and have set aside a day or two to recover.  So I'm walking to the beach after this, even though it is only 19C and I have just come off a night shift.  But if I don't go for that walk, I will lose a bit of momentum.  And that is not a good thing.

Writing in the blog format as a therapeutic tool to assist in my staying sober requires plenty of momentum, and me to diligently maintain that momentum.  Out in the blogosphere there are a multitude of blogs that have lost momentum and quietly wither from lack of new thoughts.  And the author eventually returns to the blog and prefaces her entry with something along the lines of "sorry not to have posted for so long, but..."

Just like the new toy that loses appeal by the hour, or the blog that isn't nurtured with fresh reflections, sobriety can be quietly lose momentum just as quickly.  For a friend's birthday, or a family funeral, or an unexpected ugly - whatever that is - but you know what I mean.

It is my role to maintain that momentum, even in the face of (0) comments.  Keeping that momentum rolling is the difference between staying sober for good and being on that exhausting tightrope that they benignly call moderation.

The Little Things (grr)

"Fuck it all," I would have said, "There's wine and beer organized for tonight so who gives a shit?" That's where you would've found me tonight - retreating into my alcoholic haze. The easy option would be to drink and drink until I passed out.

See, it's the little things that get at me. Like today it was not exercising this morning (grr), an unfair comment at work (grr), not knowing an address and driving around in circles (grr), having a stupid dumped dog kennel in my van (grr), missing a call, and then calling back and finding the job has already been taken (grr), not having asthma medication (grr) and something else - probably ruminating over my estranged father and mother relationship (grr).

I won't bore you with the list above, except to share the old dog kennel was a spur of the moment thing - my father in law suggested it would make a great chicken house and against my better judgement we lifted it into the back of my van. The stupid thing is mouldy and festering with long white dog hairs. But it is too heavy for me to move by myself. So it is still there, like a week later.

And there it is - some little things from daily life that just weeks ago would have me reaching for the bottle are now opportunities for reflection and accepting and tolerance. Just a little mindfulness and self awareness has me looking at things in a different way, and seeing an inconvenience as just that - not some big fucked up conspiracy where the whole world is out to get me and we are all doomed!

Yeah it's almost funny isn't it - how me not finding a car space at lunchtime can somehow be rolled together with some cheap shot from a work colleague and rolled into an excuse for getting drunk. Sort of pathetic in a way.

It was satisfying to step back and see it for what it was and know myself a little bit better. Know that my quick to fire temper can easily be confused with a tendency to sook and have unreasonable expectations. Know that it is an old habit to slip into ungrateful mode and be a bit of a princess.

Learning tolerance, funnily enough, of myself. Tolerating how fucking over the top my expectations and standards are in some areas, whilst being so damn low in other areas. Tolerating that since I am now sober ALL THE TIME without the option of escaping to drunkland, I am seeing myself and my stupid little habits and I don't like a lot of them!

So I have to change those little habits, one little annoying habit at a time. Like getting steamed up over no parking - suck it up, live with it and shit - take a deep breath or something!

And more importantly, accept that there really is no excuse.  Nil.  No excuses whatsoever. 

Here's some Helen Keller to send you on your way...

The highest result of education is tolerance.

also

Toleration is the greatest gift of the mind

Sober on The Radio

"because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me,"

Fifteen seconds of airtime. That's all I got after all the planning. Barely enough to mention the business name and product. But it was enough to have me anxious at times over the weekend, wondering what to say.

This morning I was booked for a short grab on local radio to promote my business, and after a restless night on the lounge, woke up at 3am still ruminating on what to say.

When the DJ called sure enough I mentioned the product and some key features and the business name, and the host was gracious and complimentary and as soon as it started it was all over. Phew - and there I was standing outside with beads of sweat on my brow - all worked up about fifteen seconds - almost famous embarrassing.

So I went off whistling to the warehouse.  Then, whilst listening to the ABC Newcastle in my van, they played a half-second sound grab from a song and challenged the listeners to identify which song it was.  I knew straight away - it was Wonderwall by Oasis.

. 

Still high on the endorphin rush of live radio (!!) I made the decision to call and put my answer to the producer - who put me on hold and before I knew it I was talking live on air.

"So we have Brendan here from M, and he thinks he can identify the song from the half second sound clue"

And I put it to her and she confirmed i was correct.  Flushed with confidence, I began to talk a little.

"So are you a big fan of Oasis?" She asked.

"Yeah, well, I have the Oasis CD in my van and I have been playing it a little too often lately I guess - It is an anthem of mine you could say."

There was a split second of silence, so I took the opportunity.

"And since I stopped drinking alcohol on the 20th April, the words are a sort of a mantra of mine - not to be too sentimental and just get on with it"

"And not drinking on Friday and Saturday nights?"

"Yeah, I avoided some situations early on, but getting up fresh and calm on the weekend is such a change to be tired and hungover all the time."

"So you were drinking pretty heavily then?"

"Yeah, they say I was drinking for Australia, and now I'm clear headed, less angry, more patient, I'd recommend it to anyone who's listening - not to be too evangelical about it - but not drinking makes such a difference."

Then the host ended the conversation and I was back standing there, with a couple of beads of sweat on my brow.  Two radio gigs in one day - in one HOUR!  What a media whore!
In the following minutes two other listeners called in and gave messages of support and congratulation to Brendan from M.

So there was a delicious irony in that the seemingly inconsequential fifteen second business grab had me anxious whilst the far more personal and  honest interaction was spontaneous and natural.  It was an awesome high to admit I was confronting my alcohol issue with whoever was listening and at the same time not really care what they thought anyway. 

This is another incredible paradox of being a recovering alcoholic - at once the shame and indignity of conceding I cannot control and am powerless to alcohol BUT also, at the same time I have the self knowledge, awareness and strength to just not have it.  So the first part is the bit that the neighbors whisper about, and the other parents at school meetings tut tut about, but the second part is the where the pride and strength comes in, and that is far removed from being a slurring, stumbling drunk.

And back to Wonderwall, by Oasis.  The brothers famously had their experiences with drink played out in front of the media.  The poem is a masterpiece of indulgent reflection and of almost mournful pleading with an unnamed other about shared experiences, words left unsaid, and opportunities lost. It is reaching out to an idea of perfection with hope, but knowing that you have no control over what the result is - whether the other will accept it or not.  Vulnerability.

For me, Wonderwall holds a beautiful naivete in that maybe, just maybe, the 'unknown other' might just want to help, and in that glimmer of hope the singer, might be saved from himself.  In reference to the alcoholic - that unnamed other is sober you, and the pleading, hopeful one is drunk you.  When you are living the spiral of drunk/hungover/irritable/drunk/hungover/irritable you are wishing for your sober wonderwall self to pull you out - and only you can pull yourself out.  (I hope this isn't degenerating into much psychobabble)

"there are many things
that i would like to say to you
but i don't know how"

Smells Like Rock Bottom.

This is unpublished from September 9, 2010. 

Just bounced off 18 days straight drinking and am feeling low and exhausted. Can't even think of anything positive.

So this is the bottom of the cycle.

Fat, lethargic, irritable, seething, short of breath, depressed, ashamed...

Dozens of brown, green and clear glass bottles clinking in the garbage bin, under the bed, in the bushes, under the lounge, in the garage behind things, in drawers, cupboards - everywhere I look.

And strips of paracetamol, three tabs for waking, two more an hour later, with a skull from a bottle of cheap merlot hidden behind the fridge - nearly coughing when the dead fly in it tickles my throat - but gag, my eyes watering, gag, and make a choking, strangling sound as a I force myself to swallow.

And just sit there and feel disabled - like I am sort of waiting to be a bit more sober so getting drunk will be 'fun' again.  Here's the cycle - get drunk enough, but just drunk enough to feel 'alright' and try to walk that tightrope between drinking all the time so as to stay just at that 'alright' feeling.  Fucking exhausting.

Walking Clears My Head

10.81 kilometres!  Or 6.71 miles!  Not a bad walk for a fat drunk who hasn't had a drink for a month! 

Walking is a great exercise during this first month of sobriety as I am learning patience one step at a time, literally.  Even though I feel like I could run and go faster and get the exercise over with, I have to walk and just take it one step at a time. More importantly, as I walk further and for longer periods, emotions and thoughts bubble to the surface and I can confront them instead of denying them or avoiding them.  Here is the subtitle to this blog post, which one do you prefer?

Walking brings up old resentments and regrets which is an opportunity to re-process the event so I no longer hold on to the event as a negative, instead as an experience, without a positive or negative bias.
 -or-
Walking Clears My Head

Whilst I am walking, it is amazing how frustrations and old regrets come to my conscious mind.  (Like how I am a fat drunk and 36 next month and how I haven't really got a career or a trade and had a wife and two kids to support.)

Here's today's trigger...  I was about twenty minutes into the walk and was going past the entrance to an independent coffee roaster, a place where artsy types and students lounge in the sun but also business types meet for the good coffee.  And there was my next door neighbour (A we'll call him) from when I was about nine years old, standing there shaking hands with obviously a business associate.  A was wearing a chambray shirt and trousers with his surname embroidered on it, for example Johnsons Building and he was fit and healthy looking.

And that was all it took for me to go into a negative self-talk spiral, looking at my reflection in the shopfront windows and saying things to myself like "look at A, he was never a smart kid or that good at school, and now he has his own building company and he isn't a fat miserable drunk" or "yeah but his father would have helped him out getting started and my Dad has never shown any interest," and stuff like this as I trudged along the pavement.

But then, a funny thing happened and I caught myself in the act of doing this, and I made a conscious effort to  stop it.  I just said to myself.enough - no more.  And kept walking, looking up and around and trying to find a positive thing to think about.

And the positive thing I thought of was A appears to be doing well, and good for him.  For me, I have been living with an illness called alcoholism and it has influenced me to make some poor choices, which I am living with now.  Where you are today is the result of all the choices and actions that you have made in your life  It is just the way it is.  I am a fat drunk who goes on long walks for exercise, and I know and accept this, and I am working towards being better and improving.  And that's all I can do right now, right here, in this moment.


Have an appointment with the doctor this afternoon so will be a bit anxious to see if I can get a new prescription for antabuse.  I am hoping I can as it is invaluable during these first few months.

"Hey - It's Saturday Night - Let's Get drunk!"

Sunday Mornings?
Drunk Me. > Hungover, anxious and gulping down water and paracetamol, walking around the house with a throbbing headache, bursting bladder, dry mouth and feeling irritable and tired and wanting to roll over and go straight back to sleep for a few more hours.
Sober Me > Fresh, rested, tying my shoelaces and walking over the hills to the beach. Refreshed, clear, observant and positive about the day and the week ahead. Stretching in the morning sun and sweating but with that early winter chill cooling me. Just simple, being grateful and calm and being present - that is all there is to it - just be there, breathe and experience the moments.

As I approach a month of sobriety, I appreciate how much of a spoilt drunk I have been over the years - always bringing out alcohol and drinking as a prop for any event - whether it be a birthday, or even as trivial as the day of the week - like every Thursday was "Payday - let's get a few beers at the pub" and Friday was "of course, it's Friday, let's get drunk" and every Saturday was "Well, it is Saturday night, everyone else is drinking" and every Sunday was "Well, it is nice to have a bottle of wine on a Sunday" and on and on it goes. Then on the weekend "Hey, who wants a beer" at anytime of the day. There was always the perfect excuse and occasion to have a drink.

Now, after my Sunday morning walk and lying on the grass watching the girls play on the swings in the morning sun, it is so obvious that my drinking was holding everyone back as we all had to endure me staying up all night drinking and then being a fucking wreck the next day - either watching me mope around the house or letting me buy more alcohol so I could stay drunk for the morning and avoid the hangover.

Saturday Night at The Pub - Sober

Spent last night sharing Mother's Day with the in laws and some family at a beer barn drinking diet ginger beer. Don't get me wrong - I was looking forward to the ribs and seeing some of the relatives, but sheesh, listening to all the drunken babble at the bar was a new experience.

I bought a couple of ginger beers at the bar and the smell was over bearing of alcohol and sweat - plus how everyone's eyes seemed bloodshot and glazed and half shut. I just watched, trying not to stare as they leaned over each other's shoulders shouting above each other, and rocking back and forth from their spots against the tables.

Then an old guy tapped me on the shoulder and told me about his spot on the end of the bar, as though he was part of the furniture. He went on about how the management had moved the bar stools out of the bar area and it was standing room only at the bar service area.

He tapped on the sign "service area, no standing" and the glass partition that had been built around the end of the bar so patrons would not be able to reach over and access the till. "This is where I have sat for the last twenty years," he grinned, tapping his fingernail on the bar, "And they have take away the barstools, put up these fucking signs, almost made it impossible for me to keep my spot here, but I still keep coming back - this is Jim's End, I tell em!"

He was all pleased with himself and I smiled and nodded back to him. It made me think - here's management totally disregarding a regular customer's established position and taking away his identity as a "positional" drinker like on shows like Cheers and others, and this guy still keeps coming back regardless.

What other business could treat a regular client like this, yet still get such compliant, gushing endorsements from the client it has so obviously overlooked? Unless the client was an alcoholic.

A Brief History of Time as the Sober in 100 Days Blog

Some of my favorite posts.

Typical Saturday Night

Starting to See Clearly Now

Watching Late Night TV

Is Blogging Just Another Addiction?

Drunk as a Skunk

Just a glimpse of what I have been blogging about this past year - well it is getting up to that time and amazingly have made some very positive progress.

Found a half drunk bottle of wine on the back shelf

Found a half drunk bottle of wine on one of the shelves at the warehouse - the wine had turned to vinegar and I couldn't even dare smell it - I just threw it in the bin with a sense of sort-of-pride that I don't do that anymore.

Remember the days when I would work late with a bottle of something hidden in the drawer of my desk and every now and then I would top up my "coffee mug" with some more wine. Just like they do on Letterman isn't it? Or do they really drink coffee?

Anyway, is another small step away from what I used to be and towards what I want to be. Here's to nothing hidden anymore...

Two Weeks Sober - Can See Clearly Now...

So many little achievements being sober - it is almost as self absorbing and engrossing as sneaking around planning and hiding booze for my next bender! But without being too complacent, it is timely to appreciate simply be grateful for being clear headed, calm and alert.

Have been doing some business research and compare the struggle for sobriety with the board and CEO of an organisation - not performing properly at the head of the organ means the staff and frontline workers are bumbling around inefficiently and basically chaos ensues. This translates into relationship breakdown, employment struggles and financial difficulties.

So it could be said that making the decision to go sober, and remove alcohol from my life is a 'clean out' of the executive and a fresh new focus on day to day living. It may be presumptuous and jumping the gun at this early stage, but like my giving up smoking three years ago, I just feel strong that I will never ever drink or smoke again in my life.

It is too much stress and commitment to be juggling getting drunk enough during the day and then being sober enough to present as straight when required and still being organised enough to get stuff doen in business, career and on the home front.

It is just not possible and 'little cracks' were starting to show and they have not magically healed without my stopping drinking, getting sober, straight and having a few weeks decent sleep.

Take the time to get it out of your life if you can, I recommend it.