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    Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

    A wee thought experiment

    A wee thought experiment.

    Preamble: Presently it?s 10pm. Friday 15th Feb 2013. I?m in. In my bed. Laptop upon lap. I?ve been mulling a wee bit the fact that I as head towards my mid 30?s, life seems to speed up a bit? this leads to more mulling on the fact that I am single, don?t want to be single, but find it hard to be more proactive about it. Maybe I need a little more self-motivation. Maybe. Mulling over work. Mulling over whether to run tomorrow or Sunday. Mulling over? well?. A little bit of the ?is this all there is?!? Like a palteaux. I climbed a hill, got up and went ?nice view? ehm ? is that it? So, do I just climb down again back to where I was?!?

    Of course not. There are blind summits. On this journey there are gonna be a few blind summits and a few blind turns on the road.

    Anyway, back to the thought experiment: As I say, I am sitting up in my bed. It reminded me of being sick ? duvets wrapped around me, tea on bedside table along with a pint of juice, books, DVDs and earplugs ? and so I thought, what if I had been diagnosed with a terminal disease?

    What if I had been diagnosed with a terminal disease that meant I could live a long and happy life, one that was totally fulfilling and rewarding physically, mentally and in any other way you would care to have it fulfilled.

    Here?s the rub ?

    In order for me to live this life, I must not drink. For some reason it just doesn?t go with me. If I drink it, the likelihood is I will live a miserable life, one where I would be constantly fighting the blood I had poisoned, a pestilence that was a tyranny upon so much of my daily life, a hail of negativity and a darkness that I desired to escape from. Yep, to drink would be as to live with the biblical plagues.

    So the doc says ?I advise you don?t drink, unless you want to die.?

    I sit here and think, ?well? that?s it then. I can?t drink?

    For ever.

    Well? what do I do?

    I think. And then I see.

    I see everything I could be doing if I cannot drink. I see everything I did when I was drinking ? such as going out and going to parties etc ? and realize that I can do them happily sober. I see that this is not a loss, but an opportunity. Nobody?s died. Indeed it could be argued that I just got a second lease of life.... something clicks... I feel it's gonna be OK... actually, I feel somewhat empowered.

    Comment


      Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

      Catbuddy;1461655 wrote: RC, what is "booty sleep?"

      How is your marathon training going?

      Cat
      Hey Cat,

      Booty sleep = Beauty sleep

      Marathon training is back up and running

      Tempting myself with 5 marathons this year. Did I just say that?!?!

      Comment


        Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

        In the words of ' the Matrix' .......' Welcome to the world of the REAL'

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          Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

          Hot Dam, RC....you've got it!!!! It's not a death sentence, it's a LIFE sentence...(so to speak)!! xo, b
          All you gotta do, is get thru this day. AF 1/20/2011
          Tool Box
          Newbie's Nest

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            Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

            Notes from Day 77 (a bit bolixed)

            It's Saturday. Last Saturday day off for 6 weeks.

            Awoke 5.30am to go for a 6.30am run... long weekend run to the point my thighs ache and my feet are turning their toes up at me as if to say "excuse moi?! you think pounding our faces upon 18 miles of concrete jungle is FUN?!"

            The army thread today had a good morning discussion between Zen and Molls - rehab, staying the course of a programme, losing ourselves a little bit by getting out there helping others (Byrdie speaks a lot of this)... all good stuff.

            Phoned Frank. Frank is frank. Literally. Shoots from his gammy hip. At 61, HIV+, chronic emphysema, hips that are crook and walking around like a shrivelled human coal furnace smoking his full strength Drum tobacco, he is the epitome of human endurance. We met when he was 47 - said he was looking forward to his 50th. Didn't expect to get much beyond that. Defies belief does Frank. Anyway, we spoke about the acceptance of self. The letting go. (I'm still working out how to articulate all this... Lav might be along with a pithy one-liner). How it's both the most simplest concept, but the hardest act. It is. I'm only just beginning to realise stuff about myself I had never addressed (my low-self esteem, for example)... and to change that will take work and time. But I am adamant I will change it. Even if peeps have to suffer a few of my temper tantrums.

            I arrive home having gone for a walk with Frank (I walked in Stirling while he sat in his flat in Glasgow), to put on the TV. And as the TV picture flips into view there staring at me is the face of a friend who has gone missing. It's been two days. I so hope it is nothing more than he had a wee flip, went a wandering and will come home very soon.

            Until I went to my pit tonight, I thought I'd done relatively little... but the day has shown me a lot. I tried to connect Molls and Zens postings with Franks conversation and my friend gone missing, but it ended up being wordy knotted ramble... about letting go and taking control... a prolix of a paradox.

            Comment


              Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

              This paradox that you are currently attempting to understand is at the very core of how to be happy.

              You remember the thread where I put forward the suggestion that we fully accept ourselves?

              The good, the bad, lose all meaning and judgement when simply accepted as facets of our complex selves.

              Most of us were reared to reject the 'bad' , And in doing so we are dehumanised. Since we are all imperfect this constant self loathing sets us up for constant failure, depression and outward projection of judgement. This erodes our ability to love others, our self-worth, creativity and joy.

              I only know I am kind when I see that I am also unkind. To mature into the person that I would like to be I must be able to accept the person I AM......with gentleness and humour.

              When I argued here with another member about belief our egos were battling, there was no right and wrong, since such a thing cannot exist when debating belief. At a certain point I watched myself, laughed at myself and stopped.

              She, however, chose to infer that Satan was at work ( look I am still point scoring :H:H) She disowned her fury and made it a messianic mission.

              The paradox is that in my OWN estimation ( which is the ONLY one that should EVER matter) I was both right AND wrong, kind AND unkind but I like ALL of these parts. In the space of 30 minutes I was sarcastic, clever, childish, judgemental, angry, forgiving, mature, funny, unkind, giving......but at the end I was still happy.

              I am still annoyed that, this supposedly secular, site has no clarity in this area, but it really isn't that important.

              So to return to YOUR paradox with Frank, he advises that you let go of control and live.....and so you should, you are a young man.

              But Frank did not WANT HIV, he just does not RESENT having contracted it. It was a consequence of him living life to the fullest as he saw it. If there was a new, experimental, drug that could eradicate it, he would probably take it ......and hang the consequences!

              Yet if he had been stopped at the MOMENT he was about to contract the virus he would have fled the scene.

              Likewise if you were to tell Frank the truth about your alcohol problems he would probably say 'quit while you are ahead......but don't stop living'.

              You did not WANT addiction, but you have it, now you must learn not to resent it, but to embrace it as part of your living fully. After all, you downed an awful lot of ale to get to join this exclusive club at MWO

              Living fully involves risk, but drinking for you now STOPS you living fully. It is no longer just a risk, it is suicide.

              If you jump out of a plane WITH a parachute, you are taking risks but fully living. There are 'good ' and 'bad' outcomes possible in making that jump.

              If you jump out WITHOUT a parachute.....you are a fool...... you are living fully, just not for very long ! :H

              Comment


                Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                Outstanding post, Kuya! The funny thing is I believed living fully included the alcohol...the wild side of me.

                Your thoughts regarding accepting all of ourselves and how we learned to not accept those parts is spot on and very logical and yet we struggle. I so often recognize the ego in myself and others. I've learned a lot about controlling that troublemaker through the years and recognizing it in others so I don't get caught up in the chaos that unravels from fighting against it. I'm not yet able to fully accept myself, though; nor have I rid myself of all those deep programs, but I am and have been aware of them for a long long time. Awareness is necessary, but I wonder how long it will take me to get to full acceptance and shedding of all those societal programs? The process continues; the journey is riddled with low and high points. Today, I feel empowered on that journey. Last week I was feeling its weight.

                I enjoyed reading that; it's reassuring to hear someone else thinking my own thoughts. You put them down into a very cohesive and understandable post. It's reinforcing.:l
                Rule your mind or it will rule you. It is from a thought that an action grows. :bat

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                  Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                  I believe that this non acceptance is the basis of our addiction, Slay.

                  That illusion of being perfect, particularly when we often came from less than perfect backgrounds, causes us so much internal stress.

                  Of course a further paradox exists here, only by abstaining does it seem possible to reintegrate all the parts .......the booze is the result of the disintegration AND the block to reintegration.

                  I could never understand why therapists sent clients to AA at the same time. It always felt to me that they were being lazy. But the addiction blocks any real chance of getting to the CAUSE of the addiction. Of course, many will take your money without clearly explaining this.

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                    Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                    Cross-addictions

                    A pithy post by Molls...

                    I definitely cross-addicted with shopping for a while this time round. I've eased on it now, but it deffo has to be watched. The lady who did my 'chair' last Sunday was talking about how she took up running, not like mrsa or Arsey who achully like it, but literally to 'run away' from actually dealing with what made her drink in the first place --- any replacement 'addiction' is only literally doing that - replacing, and long term imo that won't work either - even if the 'addiction' is a relatively harmless one - the root causes must be examined methinks
                    NOTE TO SELF:

                    The root causes are being examined, still, watch it and take heed: I like running... and I like shopping for food... Two things I do to get a wee muted high. As with all things, healthy done in relative moderation. Just watch it, ok?

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                      Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                      Day 80

                      Thank you Kuya, Slay for your posts. Kuya - mighty good post that.

                      Windy also wrote a very good post yesterday - now 1 yr AF - and used the trying to climb mountain analogy. And kuya, you know the analogy of being like a river? - and the river is AL, and now I've stopped drinking it's run dry? And because it's run dry I am standing in the silt and mud that the drinking had glossed over? Well the same boots that I am trying to clear the silt and mud with are the ones I am wearing to try and find a path to climb this mountain with... and right now my legs feel really rather heavy.

                      Between the mountain and the gloopy river bed, I feel physically and emotionally knackered. Aint even got out of my pit this morning...

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                        Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                        Please ignore - this is likely a whinge ;o)

                        Back to work.

                        Ach... feck. Right... i've royally lost my mojo at work. This aint depression. It is not depression cos it's not as if I'm depressed per se. But at work the mojo has gone. I sit and stare at others and either I am pissed off with them for no other reason than that they are looking well, confident and appear to be doing a grand job of enjoying and doing their job.

                        Blah. Perhaps I just feel simultaneously underwhelmed and overwhelmed. And perhaps it is not the work per se that is overwhelming but my constant inner companion that seems to imbue my entire being that consistently berates me for not being good enough. And being "good" is not good enough. Once he is done berating me, he then turns on others and decides to have overt arguments with them in my head. Meanwhile I'm trying to work on a spreadsheet, or write a workshop plan, or plan a meeting. Or all three at the same time as I listen to the voices, or let the negative emotions take over.

                        I went for a wee walk at lunch. Thought to myself... a)how fucking lonely is this and b) well if you've got time to walk you sure as hell aint got time to complain that you might just have too much on yer plate.

                        The words in black and white in front of me merely fail to articulate the quite demoralising, pervading, incessant feeling I have. But like I say this is not depression. Sure it's "down" and it's "lacking mojo" ... but it's not depression. Well, actually it is a kind of depression. I think it's a building up of everything i have not processed these past 17 or 18 years... a big pile of bricks upon my fragile wee soul that need to be blasted and pulverised. But like i say these words in black and white...? If I saw these written by another I'd be straight in there with positive lines, positive thoughts, positive proclamations that ... that... well something. It's harder to give yourself a boot up the japsy.

                        It will be fine. It's part of the process. A rain cloud over this side of the mountain. Yes - it's part of the process... of course... the one thing I have still learn to do - process certain emotions. With AL, I could run, I could hide, I could dwell, I could wallow, I could sniff the air of truth without ever fully inhaling and exhaling... But I never processed what AL hid...and now... well now being AF, I can either wish to hide while staying sober, and be always a grumpy fucking sod... or start processing.

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                          Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                          mollyka;1465660 wrote: Funny Arsey that you should post that last post tonight. I went to AA this evening and just felt sort of 'left out'. Sometimes when I go to a meeting I just listen to other sober people getting on with sober living, and I love that. Tonight it was more a 'god' one, - some long-termers talking about the 'hole inside' that is left when we quit with our addiction whatever it may be. But they were saying that they filled that 'hole' with god stuff - I don't have 'god stuff' - and I sorta got to thinking - do I have a very large cavity that needs filling that I don't even know about - and that's going to bite me on the bum somewhere down the road. Could it be that you're already recognising it where I haven't - but then, what are we s'posed to fill it with - ach, don't mind me, feel I should delete this, cos it's foolish ramblings --- but shit, I'll hit send
                          Nah, I don't think it's the god stuff. If they need to fill a hole cos of giving up the booze and they fill it with god stuff, fair do's to them. It's for some, but not for all. AND more importantly... what if giving up the booze DOESN'T leave you with a hole... what if by giving up the booze you feel more fulfilled, more full? I'd hazard a guess that maybe you do - and in all the right ways... so the god stuff you can leave or reinterpret Moll-Style, and I don't think you need worry about a cavity that's suddenly gonna get sore and need some filling in.

                          I just got a wee bit of de ja vu while writing that. Weird.

                          Comment


                            Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                            mollyka;1465675 wrote: Yeah, you're right - just came home a bit thoughtful really - wondering was I missing a big piece of the jig-saw
                            What was the deja vu?
                            I think you'll know if you're missing it. Doesn't sound like you do. You sound like you've got most of your marbles!












                            plop












                            oops...












                            there goes another of mine :H

                            De ja vu - when i wrote "I'd hazard a guess... " it just came upon me, like I had written that before. That's all. Or have I written it before...?!

                            Comment


                              Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                              I totally understand this 'spell'. What is it that other people are getting and I'm not? I was months ahead of Nelz, yet he posted about feeling joy...and dammit, I wasn't feeling joyful. It was a sort of doldrums, like in the late summer when you've had enough of the hot weather and are ready for a change of seasons. Something else has to be out there that makes all this worth it...isn't it? You bet there is! Your emotional age is catching up to your physical age. It is eye opening...I had 25 years to catch up on...facing things and not glossing by them is something new. I had a shitty day today, everything went wrong...stupid stuff all at once. But I was able to sort it out in my head and address it all. I didn't go flying to a bottle of fuckets. This was very satisfying to me. I have really grown in the past 2 years. You are growing, too...it's not always sexy or exciting, but it's happening. Please do try and think of putting yourself to the service of someone else...it really helps me...I find whatever I give, usually comes back 10 fold. Visit an old folks home...go to the pet store and say hi to the little fellows there...try and take it outside of yourself. You are getting there, unfortunately, it takes time. Blah, blah, blah...but it sho does!!! xo, B
                              All you gotta do, is get thru this day. AF 1/20/2011
                              Tool Box
                              Newbie's Nest

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                                Stella (Chook), I stole your booze...

                                Notes from Day 81

                                Fucking banjaxed.

                                Firstly, apologies, I appear to be in a bit of a wallow. Actually, you know the river metaphor I've being using... well it's like the more i try and clear out the sediment, the further my wellies sink into it. The further i go down, the higher the mountain I need to climb becomes. It aint that bad, but it is this lack of momentum, a sense of being halted, a seeming inability to be the lightness I once was.

                                People speak here of gratitude. Absolutely... but when I am feeling 'off' about something or someone or me... I find gratitude very difficult. (By the way, Byrdie - agree with the point about putting yourself at the service of others. It does to wonders for the soul...)

                                One thing I am beginning to become more aware of - and subsequently hating... and then finding it near damn impossible to change my thinking / feeling about - is my ego. How fricking sensitive it is. There's a relative new lassie at work who is quickly getting opportunities to advance her career through being part of various "symposiums and emporiums" (fauncy names for get togethers to talk shop and network), training courses etc... and today I caught myself thinking... "well of course you are - you're bright, intelligent, pleasure to work with... why wouldn't you... but you are also 8 years younger than me and you're racing ahead of me because you CAN do yoru job and you ARE a pleasure to work with whereas it would seem i CAN'T and right now am walking round the office so bloody MORBID, like Death's little brother has been left behind after some family excursion.... and I am not really seeing where my job is going other than being a glorified administrator..."

                                And then I feel my ego have a little throbbing pang to itself, a wee 'Ophelia' moment: "Woe is me!"

                                And then another wave of low-self esteem rolls in over me - dragging me down like undertow and back out to sea... and I'm thinking "what's the point?" "Why am i doing this job?" Am I doing it for me?" "Am I doing it for someone else?" "Am I doing it because i have made myself believe that this is the career path that i should go down... when I get such-and-such a job i will have 'made it', oh yeah. Keep trucking."

                                And as quick as that wave has washed over me, another comes. This one filled with rage and venom at people. Some of it directed at people through internal curses and turbulent wordy fights of frothing fury. Some of it just blind rage suppressed - sometimes just - by my skinny and meek mild mannered Clark Kent exterior. When really it just wants to say, very loudly, FECKING ARSEHOLES, THE LOTTA YOU.

                                PERIOD.

                                But... the problem ain't them.

                                It's me. I can't seem to get a grip. Nothing seems particularly wonderful. Highlight of my day seems to be the peace and calm at 6am when I have my first cup of coffee. But like I say, I am banjaxed... which only serves to heighten emotions. Granted. I just want off this bit of the ride... (PLEASE, do NOT read that (if you have made the Herculean effort to get this far) as reaching for AL - it's not... that's not on the agenda... i'm just venting)

                                They're drunk upstairs. I can't be fucked. Can't stand it. I just want to be away.

                                PS - I know a lot of you have heard me speak some of this stuff over and over... I just wanted a vent, so do ignore... it's not new particularly. Just where I am and what I am feeling right now.

                                PPS - sorry for the extreme lack of dick jokes of late. I will endeavour to find new ones as soon as I can.

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