This year I've nominated for Dry July - a community fundraiser for people who abstain from alcohol for the month of July to raise money for cancer. It's a great concept and a worthy bandwagon to hitch to - so it's hi to everyone who is going without for such a worthy cause. If you've got a few to spare it would be greatly appreciated.
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This time last year I wrote The Meaning of Life - at the time I sort of did not realize I was at the top of a steep decline that would see the bottom out and end up the Psych Ward. I was up here again, at the winery, taking care of things whilst the in laws were away, and the weakness to get into all the wine lying around was just something I didn't fight. So I caved and was glugging wine and burping and chewing lavender buds to cover my breath - but people aren't stupid and sure enough it led to some pretty stark confrontations.
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It wasn't long before I sort of sobered up for a week or two and then it all fell away and I was back into the daily drudge of waking, drinking copious amounts of water, then slinking around skulling from a bottle to chase that warm feeling. I didn't write another post for three months and in that time I was basically resigned to the ride - knowing it would slide disastrously into some sort of climax but not giving a fuck because i could drink and have that glorious empty bravado of complete peace in a bottle.
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It's ironic how a relapse that started in wine country ended in wine country. I was sleeping about 25kms from the winery in a stiff bed with some sloppy adolescent on methaphetamine next to me. He was forthright and to the point "Mate, are you gonna turn the fucking light off soon?" and I was honestly a bit scared of his thick fingers and tradesman's tattoos - plus he was coming off his own crazy bender. I wanted to pull some seniority thing, but I couldn't really say "I've been fucked up since you were in grade school" could I. So I let sleeping dogs lie.
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The mental health unit welcomed me with serious frowns and that jaded look allied health workers have after taking a little too much overtime. Sure, spending a few days eating food from under glass with plastic cutlery was just what I needed - and to connect face to face with some 'real' crazy people. I have to check myself here - it's the massive ego elbowing in again - setting aside some other patients as more crazy than me, just a simple old school alcoholic - or as one of the other patients said - 'not that bad'.
But I was bad - and it's really refreshing and a source of some self respect that I am staying the course this year after such a messy failure in 2013.
Anyway, keep sober and if you can make a contribution to Dry July.
*
This time last year I wrote The Meaning of Life - at the time I sort of did not realize I was at the top of a steep decline that would see the bottom out and end up the Psych Ward. I was up here again, at the winery, taking care of things whilst the in laws were away, and the weakness to get into all the wine lying around was just something I didn't fight. So I caved and was glugging wine and burping and chewing lavender buds to cover my breath - but people aren't stupid and sure enough it led to some pretty stark confrontations.
*
It wasn't long before I sort of sobered up for a week or two and then it all fell away and I was back into the daily drudge of waking, drinking copious amounts of water, then slinking around skulling from a bottle to chase that warm feeling. I didn't write another post for three months and in that time I was basically resigned to the ride - knowing it would slide disastrously into some sort of climax but not giving a fuck because i could drink and have that glorious empty bravado of complete peace in a bottle.
*
It's ironic how a relapse that started in wine country ended in wine country. I was sleeping about 25kms from the winery in a stiff bed with some sloppy adolescent on methaphetamine next to me. He was forthright and to the point "Mate, are you gonna turn the fucking light off soon?" and I was honestly a bit scared of his thick fingers and tradesman's tattoos - plus he was coming off his own crazy bender. I wanted to pull some seniority thing, but I couldn't really say "I've been fucked up since you were in grade school" could I. So I let sleeping dogs lie.
*
The mental health unit welcomed me with serious frowns and that jaded look allied health workers have after taking a little too much overtime. Sure, spending a few days eating food from under glass with plastic cutlery was just what I needed - and to connect face to face with some 'real' crazy people. I have to check myself here - it's the massive ego elbowing in again - setting aside some other patients as more crazy than me, just a simple old school alcoholic - or as one of the other patients said - 'not that bad'.
But I was bad - and it's really refreshing and a source of some self respect that I am staying the course this year after such a messy failure in 2013.
Anyway, keep sober and if you can make a contribution to Dry July.
Dry July...what an interesting idea! Have you heard of AnonymousGood.org? It's a website which finds sponsors to donate 50 cents for every act of good posted on the site. The donations go to organizations that feed families, dig wells, liberate people from slavery, and so on. Check it out! It's my latest obsession.
ReplyDeleteAlso, if you feel inclined, I'm new to blogging and would appreciate any support or feedback you can give me on my articles: beckydoyle.blogspot.com
I've included your blog address in a list of Recovery Blogs on mine. :-)