18 days in rehab and 18 days at home
 

I could hardly walk 36 days ago as I 'baby-giraffed' my way through the door at the farm to begin my rehab on a sunny saturday afternoon. I had barely slept or eaten for over 2 weeks and after 30 years of booze my body's reserves were running on fumes - my mind (NB - not brain) having only a tenuous command over the skin and bones below.

Having spent most of the previous Thursday morning (3 am onwards) mesmorized by yet another fresh glass of the Irish and ruminating over the 'if only's' and 'what the **** did I do last night's' I pushed the half-full/empty glass to the other side of the table. It was nearly lunchtime, I remember the news coming out of the TV, the 'good' fridge with all of its delights was only 8' away, the 'bad' fridge and its sanctuary three times the distance. After a small detour to rescue a much-neglected glass (hiding among the snifters, highballs and rocks) from the dresser I was semi-thankful to find that the 'good' fridge light still worked - first excuse ruined.

Getting the glass out of the dresser had been relatively easy, placing it on the work surface took both hands - the anticipation of cold apple juice having sent my forearms and white, veinless five-fingered extremities into open revolt. I should have put the glass in the sink, it would have been easier to clean instead of the floor, cabinet, hob, wall etc as the carton joined the ever increasing movement. **** getting the glass to my mouth, swallowing and a guerilla raid on my stomach lining was next - the old fashioned was glowing a very seductive amber.........

:c041:

Hi Alobar

Welcome to SR.

I think it's easy to focus on 'war stories' - even sometimes romanticise drinking - but I find no romance in it now.

You'll find a lot of people in recovery here - and a lot of support.
I hope we can help you put those times behind you.

So that was - what - 40 or so days ago?
How are you doing now?

D

Romance
 

This is no romance of alcholism nor 'war story '. It is the beginning of reflecting on the positive aspects of being sober as well as my own stupidity and arrogance from my addiction.

If I should only share and linger on all of the issues/injuries that I am responsible for then perhaps I misunderstood the 'recovery' part! I am dealing with my past which is extremely painful and confusing, however, I will not lose sight of where I want to be.

I recognise that my thoughts are sporadic and probably will be for many months so please excuse me if I have offended - that is so far from my intention.

The last page is a long way off and sobriety a fledgling concept.

Lets chalk it up to my misunderstanding :)

No offence was meant for my part either.
Again, welcome to SR :)

D

Alobar,

Welcome to SR! You'll find lots of good support here! Great people, great advice too!

Love,

Lenina

I think you have a writing talent Alobar - I hope you develop this in your sobriety. Welcome to SR.

Thanks December15 - I'm guessing only a few weeks to your birthday (sober/real). Not sure where it came from, probably trying to make up for the awkward 'short and sweet' ramblings in the rooms.

Anyway it helped, maybe I'll get some sleep tonight and not wake up in a pool of cold sweat aching from my body's campaign of retribution.

Happy birthday mum (sorry I won't be at the party)
 

It could have been 10 seconds or 10 hours, but was probably closer to 10 minutes before the opening battle was won. God knows how many times I had been through the reasoning, replaying the images of hospitals, funerals, police stations, doctor's waiting rooms, bar room floors, empty bottles, blood red urine, bile encrusted sinks, twisted cars, knowing gazes, the tears on a loved ones face sliding through their fair baby-haired moustache. I hadn't been able to look in the mirror for weeks but these memories flooded my vision, as sharp as any high-definition TV; the pain, embarrasment, regret, stupidity relived so rapidly that I sought refuge on the tiled kitchen floor, clutching my knees and swaying like a caged polar bear.

Did I need to convince myself, yet again, that what lay ahead was so inevitable, literally a 'dead' end that not even my 30 years of deceit and cunning could cheat, this time? The ubiquitous chants of 'you ******* idiot', 'you stupid-selfish wanker' providing a constant bass in my head as my mouth moved silently, whilst the treble of guilt and arrogance tried to find room and keep tempo with the cries of 'take the easy way out, do everyone a favour'.

I crawled to the toilet, shaking, my head pounding, my stomach ready to rehearse it's starring role in the latest production of antiperilstasis - this one was going to run and run, breaking all records...

:headbange