Went over edit time...
I've probably told this before but...
When i was 30 (38 now) i made some money in London and left the job, moved down to my home town, rented an unfurnished house for 6 months...to sober up...i went to a nice furniture shop and bought all the furniture, all the electrical equipment, massive telly, spare bed for spare room...i was all set to be normal now!
I had a small blackboard that i would rest on the mantlepiece above the fire place with 1-28 written on it...the goal was to get to 28 days without drinking, i got it from that film 28 days with sandra bullock of all places! Anyways never got there...
I remember i would always get so far then crack and order a taxi to the casino (25 miles away) and off i would go for the night, i was so happy at the start of these nights, all dressed up, beers in the taxi over (gave them big tip!) just like james bond?!...then back to day 1 again and the horror of the night before.
Looking back it was total isolation between trips out, i literally would hardly go out at all, except for drives and to get food...nothing...the day after was horrendous it was like i was having mild panic attacks all the time and these would last for 2/3 days, like suddenly getting up and walking around feeling like i was unable to breathe and doing something quick to take my mind off of it...then, as we have said, the night time would come...i hated the night man!
I remember having a talk with the housekeeper (i know!) in the kitchen, this poor lady who was cleaning my house to make ends meet, telling her how much money i had left and i didn't know what to do with my life...could she tell me what to do...she looked quite annoyed (not suprisingly) and said you could pick up the envelopes when you open your post and not just throw them on the floor for me to pick up...cue another resentment!
One of my favourite songs through all of this was papa roach - last resort, always the last time i would do it...
OT i know but good for me to write it down:-)