Wednesday, 18 February 2015

Back to The Spread. The great exhaustion. Craving everything. On we go.

I went back to The Spread today. It must be the first time in, what, three months, maybe more. 

I met Baloo to give him a DVD back. He had a day off work so was having a few pints. I've had times when I'm quite jealous of Baloo. No doubt, by most measures he drinks too much, smokes too much weed. 

But by the most important measure - does your life fall apart? - he does not. He works, has his own flat and pays his mortgage, does what he wants to do pretty much. He's a good and loyal friend. Just an all-round top bloke.

Most of what he has I would like, except the drink and drugs now. Of course, if I could have drink and drugs and the other stuff, I'd like that too. But I can't. It's a bit of an either/or thing for me. 

That's OK, I can deal with that. I just need to find something to fill that gap (strike that for opportunity if you prefer, that's what I need to be thinking and this is all about changing habitual thoughts). 

I didn't stay long. Maybe 40 minutes. The conversation was slightly awkward but easy enough. Again the question: "So are you never going to drink again then?" Again the answer: "That's a big scary thing... I probably shouldn't... I'll just see how things go... I'll definitely do a year now then maybe have a think..." 

I'm aware that by most recovery theories that's bloody awful thinking. I think inside I know that too. I'm not sure why I should have difficulty expressing that? Except of course, I am pretty sure. Drink has been my life; it's been my identity; it's been my everything; it's a big part of everyone I know's lives. So my answer was partly honestly how I felt at that moment - there was no scheme or deliberate lying involved - and partly a reflection of a bigger inner turmoil. Maybe that's where the tiredness came from. 


I came home and was hit by terrible exhaustion. I don't quite know why. The only thing I did differently from other recent days was going to the pub. And yes I felt a little jumpy and uncomfortable in what used to be my natural habitat. 

It left me completely washed out and with short-lived and overwhelming cravings for everything - beer, warmth, talk radio (which I've largely sworn off), a bath (likewise - don't worry, I shower instead now), dope, porn... To the extent that I slept for an hour, which is something I almost never do. 

Then again it could be frühjahrsmüdigkeit.

I haven't acted on any of those cravings so it's OK. But I can see I need to aware of that. I'm no longer happy in the pub and so I should no longer go there. It feels like it's in the past. 

That all put my work back a little, so I have that stress now. Mag returns on Friday and we have a guest staying for a couple of days. I need to do some cleaning. 

I can cope with that. I should be able to cope with that. I'm no longer the person who falls apart when asked to do more than one thing in a day. I hope so anyway. 

I carried on well enough. I ate well. I worked out. I'll meditate after finishing this. I've put the rubbish out. Things tick along. 

I've been oscillating between thinking I'm doing pretty well and that I'm not trying hard enough. It came while I was cycling on the exercise bike. I pictured myself as one of those driven people doing 300 press-ups a day. 

I'm not that yet, if I ever will be. I'm not sure that's right for me. I did have a pleasant surprise though. I mess around with my guitar while watching The Wire when Mag is away. Tonight I played and sang (yes sang! Bloody sang!) some of my own songs. It sort of came out of nowhere and it's very pleasing. 

Music will almost certainly play a part in this recovery and if anything is to become an important part of my "big vision" of a new life it will be music and writing. 

That it's returned quite spontaneously to my life is very welcome. 

If you spent it, thank you for your time. If you'd like to talk, please leave a comment after the tone.