A long, long time ago in a country far, far away there lived an ordinary man with an ordinary life who lived in an ordinary house with an ordinary wife. They say the past is a foreign country and looking back on it now nothing could seem seem more true.
Today that same man has been through more humiliation, detoxes, spoiled relationships, damaged work and god knows what else than the old me would ever have believed possible.
As I sit here today writing this I am coming to the end of yet another medical detox and still have no idea what is going to happen next in my life. It feels like I’ve been punched to the floor time and time again but somehow drag myself up and try again. Try what and why I don’t think I’m even sure anymore.
I’m writing this for three reasons.
One, as every true alcoholic will understand is selfish (a hint for any normal people out there, all alcoholics are selfish! We probably don’t mean to be…but we often are). I makes me feel good to write it so I will.
Two, probably selfish as well, I’m really interested in other people’s experiences. Does what I write resonate or am I just living in my own weird bubble of chemical absurdity.
Three, maybe some of what appears on here will hit a chord with someone else and they’ll do something about it rather than just following the same path me (and others?) have trodden so often before.
I’ll try not to make this simply a drunkalogue of every crazy escapade that has happened along the way but rather a true and honest account of what it is like to live with alcoholism…at least if you’re me.
I’ve got no agenda, I’m not here to push this or that route to recovery. Heck we could even have a whole blog on whether recovery even exists. I promise not to ask you to do anything I’d just like the chance to tell my story from my perspective and maybe keep updating it with whatever happens next.
If no one reads this then that is fine, I’ll write it anyway. If people read it and want to tell me how full of shit I am, then that’s fine too…you might be right. If anyone reads it and empathises with even a bit of it then that would at least tell me I’m not going mad on my own.
We’ve all got a story to tell. This is mine.