Sunday, 8 February 2015

Fighting the good fight. Physical symptoms. Planning ahead.

Today is proving quite tough. I will make it through.

Mag has left for her four nights away. I'm anxious as hell about myself. I'm as anxious as hell about the people I love. The car is playing up. I didn't want her to drive. Her destination is distant and difficult to reach, trains and buses take many hours and are very expensive, she might arrive too late to get into her accommodation. 

It's uncertainty that's been the problem. We took the car to a Kwik Fit (an exhaust and tires place really), but the problem was outside of what they can deal with. We couldn't find anywhere else open. From the point we left the Kwik Fit I was under the impression that Mag was going to get a bus. 

When we got back she told me she wanted to drive. She wasn't sure herself. I'm not very strong in these situations. I needed her to tell me what she was going to do and she didn't, and the plan changed about three times. 

I'm doing the best I can. My big targets are to lay off cannabis and porn while she's away. She left about two hours ago and so far I'm clean. That might not sound like much but my previous pattern has been of relapse once she's out the door. There's no cannabis in the house. That's a bloody good thing.

I have a headache and a dry mouth and I'm exhausted. I think this must be from the strains of her leaving and the lack of my usual coping mechanisms. I'm realising how much all my addictions were related to turning off my mind - stopping the clocks, stopping the mind chatter. I used to call it "killing the day" back in counselling - that's just what the first drink did; when the first sip was taken the day was over, no matter that it might be 1pm.

My urge to drink is much stronger than it would usually be on a Sunday. Although for long periods I drank every day, the weekends were still special. There were more people around, sport on the television. I got into a routine of taking Sunday lunch with a group of friends, either in The Spread or another local pub. A lunch that grow and spin into a long afternoon and sometimes night of drinking and singing. Sundays in The Spread have been some of the drunkest times of my entire life.

I've planned ahead and I'm trying to keep planning ahead. No matter how short term the plan is. A lot of this reduces down to knowing when and what the next meal is. There is currently a very large potato in the oven. I know there's something I want to watch on TV at 6pm. 

I had grandiose plans of cleaning the house, but I'll be very happy if I manage to have what would pass for an ordinary evening. Eat, wash-up, watch TV, exercise, meditate, bed. 

If I can do that - and there's no reason why I won't - I will have succeeded.