Good morning all,
The sun is out today. Makes for a nice change from the gloomy weather we have had the past few days. It is the start of day thirty eight and I am good. Business first.
Physically I am great. I slept right through until the alarm this morning. This is the longest stretch of sleep I have managed to date. Six to seven hours. I am experiencing a little bit of anxiety/discomfort before I fall asleep. I am not sure what that is about. Maybe too much on my mind lately. When sleep does come it is deep. I did have a headache this morning, but it is not so sharp. Other than that, all the physical maladies have passed. My appetite is back and I am happy about that.
Mentally I am fine. I am actually looking forward to today. I have some work to catch up on and I am looking forward to adding some more to the book.
Emotionally I am in a much better space today. I am recovering and it does take time. I need to learn how to deal with the "out of the blue" surprises. I don't think I am handling them bad. Even a "normie" would get phased with emotional problems.
I am reading a book that deals with life after we get sober. I will post the title when I get home. It is actually one of the better books I have read dealing with our situation.
I have some work to do around the house still. Instead of putting the skirting boards back, I am going to use tiles. I also have to put up a screen behind the fireplace. It is too hot and burning a hole in the paint. I will do this myself. I will start all the preparation this evening.
I am going to try something new here. I am going to include some snippets from my book every now and then. It is sort of like a sounding board.
Prelude
Come on down and see me. You know my name well. I’m everything you read. I’ve got it to sell. The ladies on my street aren’t there for their health. Welfare checks don’t pave the road to much wealth.
Sixto Rodriguez – Gommorah (A nursery rhyme)
It is 08H00, Monday morning in the heart of the Johannesburg CBD. It is 4 April 2015. Today, I have twenty eight days of sobriety under my belt. Not much I know, considering that I have been a heavy drinker for the past twenty odd years, but it is something.
This is not a story of self pity. This is a story of sex; drugs; rock ‘n roll; broken relationships; a journey to hell and maybe, just maybe, hope. This is not a self help story and neither is it motivational. It may be anecdotal at best. If it makes you laugh – great. If it makes you cringe – even better. If it makes you cry – then I have cocked it up somewhere.
My name is Craig. At this stage of the story, I am thirty nine years old. Although I am married, my wife and I are separated. Not my choice at all; but hey, you’ve got to roll with the punches, even those that are of the pointy shoe variety right in your balls. Hell, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
How did I get here? I am not too sure. To find out I must go back to the beginning. The beginning is shrouded in mist. The beginning is so far back that it is fading even from my own memory. Can I go back that far? Can I perceive the start? I don’t know, but I am sure as hell going to try.
Be safe and be strong.
Cheers,
ZAB