Category Archives: Thoughts

Repetitive insanity

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“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”

“Taking the same action over and over again expecting different results.” Each day I wake up and I am sober.
Each day I wake up and hope that tomorrow will be better, easier.
Each day I wake up and pray for passion and enthusiasm.

I thought I needed will power to give up the drink.
That was not true.
I took away the desire.
That was all.

I stand today sober.
I do not desire to drink
Yet,
I carry the same mind with me on my shoulders,
She waits for what next?
She collapses on the floor,
Tired of waiting,
For what? She’s not sure.
No one is coming to rescue her?
From what?
She’s not sure.

She is her saviour.
Yet,
She cannot see the love in front of her.
She cannot hear the gentle whispers of devotion,
She cannot feel the warmth of the embrace enveloping her,
She cannot taste the sweet words of encouragement,
She cannot touch the gaze of tenderness,
She does not know that it is she herself,
She is there to save herself,
She shows up each day,
Waiting for the day,
I know she is ready,
She lies in the shadows,
Immobile,
Inert,
Stuck,
Yet,
Hopeful,
One day,
Someone will come and save her.
Tomorrow?
She waits patiently.

I wrote the above last week. My head is in a better space today. I am hugging the me of last week. She was lost and desperate. She panicked. She froze. Instead of doing something silly she did nothing at all. She rode through the thoughts and feeling and she came out the other side unscathed. She survived.

Here’s the thing though. I don’t want to just survive. I want to thrive. In order to do that I need to act. I cannot wait for life to come to me. I must seek it out. I must get off the couch and out of the house. I need to show up.

One action at a time.

Newton’s 3rd Law

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Motivation will not appear before me and urge me forward. Passion will not miraculously appear and wave its wand over me, transforming me into passionate. These are things I must act upon myself. Newton Third Law says that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. When we perform no action, nothing will happen. Nothing will come to me, I must seek it out. Ready for action.

Idleness is unbecoming in large doses. I idled last week. I didn’t go anywhere, do anything. I can’t say I coasted, that implies moving forward; there was no action, so I did not. Rest, idleness is necessary but I over indulged. It no longer stayed as rest it morphed into something else. Uncomfortable, uneasy.

The week began well last week.
Gym: Twice
The gym helps my soul, it is not just a physical exercise.
Keep at it. Go more often.
Morning Pages: Thrice
MP Writing. Not consistent. Show up everyday.
Whole Foods: Seven
Whole Foods: Regular breakfast of homemade toasted muesli, yoghurt, pomegranate arils and ground linseed is a well formed consistent habit. A new batch is cooling as I write.

Status: SOBER 66 DAYS
Well done. Keep it up.

Laziness and Freedom

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Laziness is idleness.

Freedom is the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.

I choose idleness. I have the freedom to choose to be lazy. Laziness is a type of freedom. To be freely idle is a skill. To be idle without guilt, shame, regret or perfectionism is rare, is it not?

Rest is a form of idleness. Stay with me. So rest is laziness? Rest is as important as exercise. Why is there a negative stigma surrounding laziness. Why must one appear to be busy or active or expressive at all times. That is exhausting. Rest, idleness or laziness is as important as not being those things. Social media would have us think otherwise. It’s okay to rest, to be idle, to be lazy. Resting bitchy face is okay.

Meanwhile the dust and cat hairs mount on the carpet. They have banded together into piles and are visible now to the naked eye. I observe. I do not remove the dust nor the cat hairs. I remain idle.

For one to remain idle. I prefer the word idle over laziness. For one to remain idle one must either ignore the chaos surrounding oneself or do something about it. One can create habits to clear the chaos or set up systems where others deal with the chaos. The world is one system. Your country is another system. Your city, another. Your neighbourhood, another. Your home, another. Your family, another. You are another. How do you deal with your systems? Do you have freedom in all your systems? How do you navigate the chaos? How do you not let the chaos of the systems invade your freedom? How do you choose freedom in your world/systems? If you don’t have freedom within a system how do you navigate the chaos?

Take for example cat hairs? Technically they are fur strands.
Solution:
Acquire a hairless cat. Too late.
Remove the cat. They are family. No
Remove the fur? No absolutely not. I don’t even shave my armpits.
Remove the shed fur/hairs? Okay? How?
Vacuum regularly so there is no build up. Possible.
Hire someone to vacuum regularly so there is no build up. Possible.

Problems and solutions. There are as many solutions as problems, more really. We can choose to act on something or not. We can look for a solution. Whether we act on it is up to the individual. Sometimes we stumble upon a solution by chance, other times we analyse and spend countless hours mulling over the problem. Sometimes we don’t notice there is a problem. We are blind to the problem. If we are blind to the problem then how can we find a solution? We cannot. We must first acknowledge the problem before we can do something about it. Sometimes there is no solution. Or one that we can think of for now. It is beyond us for now.

Today I choose sober. Today I choose idleness. Today I choose avoidance.

Ah. That last one. Avoidance. Do I really choose avoidance? By choice? By not choosing does that automatically mean avoidance? I’m afraid so. It is my system’s way of protecting myself. Self care.

Avoidance

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Drinking was an avoidance. An avoidance of what exactly? Life? Facing myself? Facing today? The present?

I have been supremely adept at avoidance. Pushing something away. Not facing something actually is far more exhausting and requires more energy than facing it. The avoidance thingy is draining and I am tired. Enough is enough is enough.

Excuses:
I’ll get round to it.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
All right.
I can’t think about it now.
I’m too tired.
It’s too late.
It’s too much.
Not now. Later.

Habits are easy. Once an excuse is spoken or thought it becomes easier the second, third and fourth time. It rolls off the tongue, it glides through. It appears easier not to. On approach it is waved away. Like a small child interrupting adults talking. Soon it knows it’s not welcome. It lingers but behind closed doors. Lurking. There but not really truly present. More of an essence. A residue.

In limbo now. I am no longer drinking. I have no desire to go back to drinking again. A small white lie. I had a thought yesterday. Of what if? The thought was there. How big or small it was is irrelevant. It was there. And now it is no longer there.

I am aware of this avoidance that I have veiled over myself. The cape is see-through. It has slipped down to my shoulders. It pins me still.

Drinking is behind me. The present is in front of me, it is around me, it is here, but I still feel frozen with fear. Fear of what exactly? I have no idea. The fear of stupidity? Of failure? Of success? Of boredom? Of nothingness? Of repetition? Of feeling? Of letting go? Of control? Lack of control? The unknown?

Ah.

Control. A fear of a lack of control? Is that it?

Does that boil down to ego?

I have no ambition. Never had. I used to think that was a minus. Now I see it as a plus. I had no self confidence. No self esteem. Now I have some. I used to feel guilt, paranoia and perfection. I have managed to shake them off. Anxiety lets itself in still. It comes hand in hand with depression sometimes. They are a pair who have a key. I asked for it back but it fell on deaf ears. I changed to locks. But we are in a heatwave and I need to let in fresh air. Sometimes they creep in an open window. Tonight they are bothering someone else. I am alone with my fear.

The present is now. I am here. I am showing up. I am present. Now what?

A Purring

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I’m one of those people who like to get everywhere early. Punctual. I allowed for traffic and the unforeseen hurdles. So I planned for bad traffic and a delay at the post office picking up the parcel. And low and behold we were more than half an hour early for our vet appointment. There was no traffic at all. It was smooth driving, interrupted occasionally by a wailing cat. He wasn’t happy. Perhaps he thought he was being returned or abandoned. Who really knows. Maybe he didn’t like the music on the radio.

He sat patiently in the waiting room, caged and smoochy. Was expertly avoiding eye contact with the two dogs and the other cat. All was well. We waited. The canary sang behind the counter. The parrot was grumpy. A blanket was thrown over his cage. He napped after that. It was the afternoon of a heat wave.

Once in the consultation room the purring began. A reluctance to get out of the cage, a shyness to show off his inside back leg. Once it was done he was fine. He behaved like a champion, all 4.2kg of him. He has grown, a lot. We met him when he was 400g. He has come a long way.

It was nothing. It was a war wound, a bite or a scratch, licked to death with a ring of bald skin. Made it look worse than it was. He was thinking why did we bother, I could have stayed on the couch. Antibiotics were offered. We obliged. Pills twice a day for the next five days. Ten pink pills to shove down his throat. He won’t like me for ten moments. I wish for a short memory.

Life without booze is freedom. Early appointments are now a possibility. My head is on straight. I can face whatever life throws at me. Okay except the ice machine. I haven’t won that battle yet. The wooden spoon is not winning again the ice buildup. I have jabbed with a bbq fork. And a large knife. Still not working. Patience. Will try again tomorrow. I have read the manual. It’s useless. Might need to call customer service. Will assess if that’s a must tomorrow.

Picked up pizza tonight, washed it down with fizzy drink. Pepperoni, chili flakes extra. Pizza eaten sober is quite delicious. I didn’t opt for the larger pizza. I chose regular. It’s all gone now. Every bite was hot and crisp. Just right. Not a crust left in sight. Today was a carefree day. No gym, no cooking. A be kind to me day.

Two months sober. Yesss. Pizza was my sober treat.

Waiting for the vet

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Attempt to visit the vet yesterday was thwarted by one of my cats. The one that needed to go. I underestimated his determination to want to get outside. Hence, I got home and he was outside wherever and my appointment was looming. No cat. Cancelled appointment. Apologies and rebooked for today. With fingers crossed that he walked in the door later that night. He bowled in at 10pm. I greeted him and then raced to block up the cat door. Tape and cardboard. Lots of it. Mission complete.

The wait continues for the vet. Two unhappy cats who wish to be outside running in the grass pouncing on cicadas and other crawlies. They are going stir-crazy and I hope they don’t get too stressed that they pee somewhere they shouldn’t. The litter tray is unused. They haven’t needed it in some time. They always go outside now.

Heat wave still with us and they are stuck inside. (We are stuck inside.) Unhappy about it too and letting me know. They did so well until 6am. I am still not a morning person and despite that they can do no wrong. Our cats get away with murder. They are spoilt rotten. They deserve it. They flop down when they see one of us coming and demand a belly rub. They wag their tails with delight. I think they might have been dogs in a previous life.

The windows are slightly open, the safety latches firmly allowing a breeze but nothing further. Their attempts to check and recheck are to be commended but there is no escape this time.

Why am I “punishing” the cat that doesn’t need to go to the vet by keeping her inside? Well yesterday I had her “trapped” outside instead. Then I worried that she would think she wasn’t welcome. She came back home in the evening. No hard feelings.

I care for these creatures better than I care for myself. I am selfless with them. As it should be. They had a tough start in life. Rescued cats always do. Now they live a life of exploring, sleeping, eating and unconditional love.

Did I mention that we are still feeding a neighbour’s cat. Not by choice. He is a thief. He steals into the house at odd hours of the day and night and helps himself. He does it around the neighbourhood to other homes too. He is notorious. He should be the side of a house. I wait for the day he can’t fit through the flap. He gets shooed away and yet he still comes back. A persistent one.

He was the one that got stuck in the other neighbour’s treehouse for 4-5 days. And survived. Silly moo.

I’m sure our cats are enjoying this new sober me. No more wine breath.

Managed to somehow stand on a cat’s tail last week. Sober. She forgave me. How could I have been drunk all this time last year and never do it and then once sober go and do it. Of all the odds. Felt so terrible. She still loves me. All is forgotten and forgiven.

The house is quiet. A resigned feeling of what will be will be. They are sleeping again. Peace is restored. Until the cat cage and the journey…

The Joys of Soberishness

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  • I can drive myself home at night
  • I don’t have to get an Uber
  • I don’t have to watch what, how much, when about drinking
  • I can wear high heels without the fear of falling over (I have yet to bother)
  • I love night driving
  • I am saving money by not drinking
  • I am never hungover
  • I don’t waste “the next day” recovering
  • I remember everything I do when I go out
  • The recycling bin takes forever to fill now
  • I don’t have the midnight munchies
  • I am more mindful of my time
  • I am more serious about play
  • I take better care of myself
  • I appreciate the silent stillness of the night
  • I am still not a morning person
  • I am an accidental insomniac
  • I have a huge tea collection
  • I drink almost no coffee these days
  • The days are longer
  • I am full of hope
  • I am more active

AF

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I thought everyone on sober sites were a sweary bunch. AF this and AF that. It didn’t twig that AF meant Alcohol Free for a few days. That’s how entwined alcohol was in my life. It was a code I couldn’t read. It may seem a humorous misunderstanding and it does make me smile even now but the reality of not knowing what it meant is very sobering.

It also stand for Auto Focus and Atrial Fibrillation.

Recovery

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Alcoholism is wrapped like a poisonous vine all through New Zealand society. Every magazine, commercial, advertisement, film, book has a mention or a splash of an image of someone enjoying an alcoholic beverage. The drunk ones always have more fun, more confidence, gorgeous friends, they live life to the fool full. They get their hooks into you from youth and cling to your ankles when you try to run away. They offer free drinks, a discount when bought in bulk, wine clubs to help you talk the talk, tastings and trips and a day at the races all sponsored by big brands.

To chose a sober life is conscious choice. The right choice. It is not the easier path. At any function you attend the alcoholic array is endless, the non alcoholic choice is one, orange juice. I haven’t had orange juice in years. I don’t like sickly drinks. Never have. Give me salty, sour or bitter anytime.

I say this but I haven’t been out yet to a western restaurant or bar yet. Asian and Indian restaurants: yes. They serve tea and water without question. There is no awkward pause before saying just water please. I plan to order sparkling water when I do go out where wine is abundantly on the menu. You know but, I keep thinking of all the money I’m saving by not drinking out or at home. It brings a smile to my face just thinking about it.

Wise Greg at Club East Indianapolis wrote “… many ….. value the image of recovery over recovery itself.”

I hadn’t thought about recovery at all. And with the image of recovery there’s a disconnect. To me that is something on television or in film. Someone else with a foreign accent. It’s not me. I’m only interested in the internal journey. I hadn’t thought of it as a recovery. My secret is “I never grew up.” My curiosity is endless. This is helping me discover “sober”. Really in essence it is learning to live again fully present.

Even the word alcoholic seems like a foreign word. It doesn’t roll off the tongue easily. It is a word I may think I am but will not speak aloud. Perhaps I am still in denial about this. Acceptance will grow on me.

Scott Peck’s book The Path Less Traveled was an exciting book for me when I read it many moons ago. I took that book to heart and have always forged my own one. To create a new path rather than follow one already ploughed is more difficult but is ultimately more satisfying. It is nice to get pointers and meet like-minded or not along the way. I am tackling this new sober path the same way.

Recovery, discovery, internal journey, whatever you call it I am doing it. I am not here to pretend to be sober. I tell it like it is, how it feels, straight. (How I liked my vodka.) Maybe blunt at times. Honest. Absolutely. Without that I am nothing. I take my life seriously. (I drank seriously too. Look where that got me.) I am loving this new sober me.

Day 52

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In bed by 11pm after a long soak in an Epsom salt bath with a book. More reading till almost midnight. Lights out. I relaxed every part of my body in anticipation of sleep. Sleep didn’t come. 1:30am rolled around. Light on again. More reading. Light off. Calling quiet now for sleep. Less tossing and turning and sighing last night. Managed to get to sleep somewhere around two. Better. Not great but better. Doesn’t help when my cats wake me up at 7:30am greeting me with ciaos and demanding food and acknowledgement with a tummy rub. I get up without a grizzle. I do it with love and wander off to the toilet before heading back to bed and more sleep. The alarm clock said 8am. I changed it back to 9am. Even then it wasn’t enough. 10am and finally I emerged. Bleary eyed. Not rearing to go but up.

Sleep is not my BFF anymore. I don’t know where we went wrong. It all happened around the time I became sober. I stayed up late instead of going to bed. The evenings were long. I sat in a daze of what now. Either I abandoned sleep or she abandoned me. I’m trying to get in sleep’s good graces but it is an effort. Worth it but exhausting.

Showing up is showing commitment and I will show up before midnight every night and wait patiently for sleep. I won’t get frustrated if she doesn’t show. I won’t get angry. I will not sigh. I will not toss and turn and wrestle with the sheets. I will persevere. Sleep will come around again. I may get up and wander the house and do something else but I will come back to bed and try again. Patience and perseverance will prevail.

The gym today. I made it. I walked on the treadmill to the words of my audio book. I cycled for a bit. Then I jumped onto a bosu ball and tottered awkwardly about. And done. Heat rate elevated more than usual so I took it easy.

Grit The Power of Passion and Perseverance by Angela Duckworth is my book for the evenings. It is almost finished. It is fascinating. It is difficult to put down. Perhaps it is the wrong choice to have beside the bed. Instead it should be a boring/difficult book. One hard to pick up rather than one to put down. I will be onto the next soon and it will no longer matter.