Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘change’

I’m neither particularly down now up at the moment.

In fact, since I stopped drinking my mood has been all over the shop, like a toddler allowed to drive the IKEA trolley.

This is helping. I’ve not written enough lately – neither for fun, nor for pleasure, nor for profit.

I have my excuses. I always have my excuses. Some are better than others. Once, in an even Thinner City faraway, a wise young alcohol worker told me: “Once you stop drinking the reasons why you drank will still be there.”

He was right then and – if he’s still saying it to his clients – he’s still right.

So, the life I want to lead – productive, healthy, honest, independent, hell maybe even succesful in some small way – is now one step closer. That step is the sober step. The others do not necessarily fall after it automatically.

I’m writing more today because Mag is away. I’ve had previous blogs and one of the reasons I stopped them was because Mag read it and got upset – not only about what I wrote about her (and, as I noted with my post on the Spread, I’m not overly keen on anonymously splattering other people’s lives around the web), but with what I revealed about myself.

But this is good for me.

One of the downers that has stopped me experiencing the euphoria I associate with stopping drinking is that I’m still quite ill. Since I suffered pneumonia back in the spring my chest hasn’t been right and last week when I went to the doctor to report I was still short of breath a hurried conflab led to me being sent for a TB test.

That has now been taken and I am almost certainly – as I almost certainly knew – not suffering from TB. But it’s an excuse I can use to not make the other changes – too numerous to list here and now – that I need to make in my life. I’m seeing a specialist at the Thin City TB Clinic next week and hopefully that will put an end to things in that department.

But it hasn’t made me any busier workwise. It hasn’t made me address the large pile of papers hiding under this very desk. It hasn’t made me take steps towards financial independence. It hasn’t made me attend the tai chi classes I’ve enquired about.

It hasn’t even helped with my depression or anxiety. In fact, I’ve suffered some really quite dispiriting lows in the last week or so. It could be mourning for my lost love. It could be the reality of my life.

Because of my illness I haven’t been to counselling for a while. And on my ever-growing to do list is my homework. I’m to look at a situation where I started to think in an anxious way and record either how I observed those thoughts or didn’t give in to them.

To be honest, all I’ve managed in the last week or so (and Mag was away last week) is to attend my appointments, do the work I’m already committed to and… and… that’s that.

Drop us a line if you feel like it.

TCC.

 

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I work on Tuesdays. Proper work. Paid work. I drive out of Thin City and into the Former Industrial Area (FIA) to an office and write. It’s not great stuff. It’s for some free local magazines. The people are nice and it’s good to get out of the house.

I remember reading a couple of accounts of heroin use which chimed very much with me. (I can’t for the life of me remember who wrote these accounts, but I’m pretty sure they were musicians). The gist of it both of these stories was that heroin use is a full-time job – you get up and spend all your day trying to get your hands on heroin (or, if you’re not a rock star the money to buy heroin) then you take it, the next day you do the same – and repeat.

I like routine. And alcohol helps me have a routine. It’s not a good or healthy routine (it’s got a hell of a lot better since Sunday) but it’s a routine.

I’ve gone over what the bad routine was and it’s very similar to the heroin routine – sleep, drink, smoke, sleep.

Yesterday as I drove towards the FIA, I followed – of course – my usual routine. Out of Electric Street, down White Street and onto Mud City Road and then call it at the nearest petrol station to buy fuel if necessary and cigarettes. As I pulled into the forecourt yesterday I had a shock. The pumps were all behind wire and the place was being dug up.

The shock to the system was quite severe. I cling to routines and habits desperately and any change causes real unease. I drive the wrong way to the FIA; Exact has been telling me for months that there’s a much quicker, easier way to get there, but I can’t quite manage the change in routine that would cause – where would I stop to buy cigarettes? What if I get lost? What if the traffic’s bad going that way? What if aliens land in Dodge (aigthoo) and set up some sort of checkpoint. What if… What if…

Mag rang me at work yesterday. The Shinei are moving. They will be gone in two to three weeks. The landlady is selling the house. This should – this is – unalloyed good news.

But.

What if lunatics move in next door? What if the Ku Klux Klan set up a training camp next door? What if squatters get in in the meantime and start to stage Thin City’s biggest free raves? What if it’s bought by a charity for rehousing owners of dangerously loud birds of prey?

Change ahoy. Danger ahoy.

Read Full Post »