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

[NoSugar]

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

RunningCourage;1483571 wrote: I hate wasting. Therefore the bottles will very promptly become presents. And out of the house, to another home. End of.

I hate waste, also, but I no longer give alcohol as gifts. I don't want to contribute to what may be someone else's hidden nightmare. During the past holiday season (even before I successfully quit), I stocked up on several bottles of high-end aged balsamic vinegar to give as hostess gifts or for the unanticipated recipient.

NS

[RunningCourage]

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

Notes from Day 120 - Grave Clothes

Grave clothes. The metaphorical clothes we all wear that keeps us from being our full potential...
Perhaps they are grievances from the past.
Perhaps they are acts done against you.
Perhaps the are horrors you cannot forget and move away and on from.
Perhaps an inability to forgive.
Perhaps they are feelings of jealousy.
Perhaps they are regrets that you did not make that decision, say such-and-such to that person, go for that job.
Perhaps it is simply enjoying too much a self-satisfying, self-indulgent feeling of malaise with life...

We can wear our graves clothes close. They, we believe, form part of our identity. We have worn them for years, decades even. And to be without is unthinkable. Who are we without these clothes, that shield us from what we could become?

I wear grave clothes. Indeed I was wearing a pair of water proof grave overalls while I was drinking. Got rid of them. But they sit at my feet still. And beneath the overalls are other clothes clinging to me. I am currently working at ridding myself of these. It takes time. I am a hoarder. They cling close like skin. It can hurt peeling them away.

My grave clothes (as i find them today): an incident from my past that, for lack of a better word, traumatised me; the resultant control i have over food and beverage consumption; a jealousy of my brother and where he is in his life... a jealousy that can and may at times prevent me from being really, truly thankful and happy for him. Which is what I want. And would be. If I could skin these grave clothes.

To be freed is to be
Naked,
Vulnerable,
Exposed,
And in so doing to be healed, not to let the wound hidden by the grave clothes to fester, become septic and diseased, but instead to be exposed to the air and all the elements - and to heal.
In being healed, to be stronger than I or we have ever been.

...

Who's up for stripping?! :H

[Slaythefear]

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

Who's up for stripping?!

I AM!!!!! Truth be known, it's because of these damn hot flashes, though. So which meltdown is worse, UC?

Crikey!

[Persephone1]

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

RC, what a beautiful awareness and expression. We ARE healing and we are so fortunate to have this community to share in that process. Thank you for opening yourself and being vulnerable and inviting others to join. I'm down.

I am 43. It's taken me all these years to finally like myself, maybe even the sprouting buds of Loving mySelf. Dare I say, comfortable in my own skin? I've had patches of time where this was being cultivated and then I'd walk away and dabble in some form of self hatred. That felt more comfortable, fitting. This cycle has gone on all my life. And the painful truth is that I did punish myself with alcohol, cigarettes, food, toxic relationships, self~loathing thoughts & behaviors. I was ever so slowly self destructing...

Why? Does it matter? I think so, for me. Others may disagree. I think it's important to explore why I loathed myself so much because I think that it started when I was a very young and tender age and I think I (finally!) owe that wounded part, who is clearly 'frozen' in time, the acknowledgement it deserves. Time to melt (remove the grave clothes) it with compassion and dedication to better treatment going forward.

This is actually fascinating to me in some ways, kinda like an archaeological dig of mySelf. Some days I actually stumble upon a long hidden quality and find it charming…other days not so much. :H The key is, I think, to accept the whole kit and caboodle and be kind and gentle and learn to love me in totality. It sounds like you're in that same boat.

Thank you so much for your contributions to this community RC, this thread in particular. Its truly amazing the beauty that comes when we embrace ourselves.

All the best, P.

[RunningCourage]

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

Notes from Day 122 - (1/3 of a year)

Persephone, thank you for sharing that. Yes, as you say, to accept the whole kit and caboodle (nice phrase that!) of me/each of us and to learn to love it in totality is what I am striving for.

One pair of Grave Clothes: We had family around yesterday - bit of a gathering - and my aunt brought up the subject of my brother and his partner and whether... whether there would be wedding bells etc. And did I feel as if I were inadequate? Yup - sure did! Jealous? Damn right. Missed some proverbial boat? Of course. Wasted years of my life pussy footing around? You got it.

I DID feel like this. But i DON'T want to. Right now, these particular clothes stick real fricking close and I am not at all sure how to take them off. Of course, if I were in a serious relationship this might appear to take the clothes off... but I want to - no matter what shit happens - to be able to be thankful and happy for his life and what he does with it rather than feel bitter and subsequently hide, for example, beneath a river of booze, or behind the veneer of a relationship.

1/3 of a year: It is 4 (calender) months today since I stopped drinking. On the whole, feeling stronger about it all. I don't crave AL per se yet I do miss at times, though, the cultural anointment of booze at particular social occasions. I miss too, the chance to imbibe with friends /a friend to share a moment. Sure, we can say we don't need booze for these - and we would be absolutely correct in asserting this - but i can still hear my mind shake it's head as if to say, no :no: you can't do that. A couple of examples that have popped up in the last few hours:
1. One of my cousins who I am close to saying "Och I should come round to your new pad, and we can share a bottle" And i thought - yes, that would be lovely, fun and a great bonding. And it would be. But even if I were drinking, the chances of that actually ever happening anytime soon are remote (she's got two kids and life i am sure would get in the way, we generally only see one another at 6-monthly family occasions).
2. An internet dating site I was a member of a year or so back, intermittently sends me emails saying "such-and-such likes you"... it so happens that a lass i "liked" has, 9 months later, returned a "like". Checked the profile: she drinks several times a week. And the first two thoughts I have are a) I could never meet someone if I don't have a drink and b) if she drinks, then I can drink... it'll be fine - really.

a) is a lie
b) is Rick the Dick... PLUS... I would be drinking because of another, and this is the WRONG reason to take a drink.

If I ever did take a drink, it MUST be because I am in full cognition of my choices AND the consequences, not swayed by or doing it for another. Just now, I can still feel me being swayed by others and losing the clarity of strength of individual thought that I have been cultivating these past four months. Just now I am not strong enough to take a drink. But it is frustrating. I could sense the drinking overalls creeping at my feet the more I though about it. I could hear the lapping of AL at the mouth of my now dry river.

Today is moving in day. Despite all these thoughts, why waste 4 months of good, worthy - and hard - work to be AF these length of time. Now is a new challenge: to live by myself AF. I'm looking forward to it. (Though may be posting here more often.... but incoherent sober ramblings are infinitely better than incoherent drunken evenings alone.)

[decided]

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

[kuya]

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

When I was a child alcohol was consumed to celebrate or commiserate.

The working man had a pint or two every night because his working life was usually so foul and hard he had something to commiserate every day.

This lady you mention drinks several times a week......this would alarm me.......ANYONE that consumes several times per week would alarm me.

It is interesting that you still don't query the unhealthy relationship many have to alcohol......this may be the key to the austere way you view your sobriety. It still feels like you are suffering and enduring it.

I am enjoying my sobriety, enduring my smoking quit......I feel qualified to make these observations

[jenniech]

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

I really like your posts RC...agree with Kuya.... you are not the only person in your life that has a drinking problem it sounds like!!! And as for the dating site woman who "drinks several times a week" I would bet lots of money that she is totally downplaying her REAL consumption. I always did....stay away!!

[Lavande]

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

Happy moving day RC!
make the place all your own

[K9Lover]

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

kuya;1486518 wrote: This lady you mention drinks several times a week......this would alarm me.......ANYONE that consumes several times per week would alarm me.

I've notice in my many observations (lol) that the amount people ADMIT to drinking is usually about HALF of what they really drink. My previous boss used to come in looking like something the cat vomited out and said she had one bottle of wine....uh yeah, times 2 (or maybe 3)...

[Byrdlady]

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

I've heard that statistic, too, K9....from those doctor shows. They say whatever people put down, double it and that's about right....who knew they were on to us? UGG...(not as smart as I thought I was....) B

[RunningCourage]

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

Notes from Day... ah shit... now what day is it?

One mo...

Right - 148. (Thanks JC for the sober calculator, saves using me noggins :H)

Still not got tinternet in my cottage. May be another week or so. At the folks briefly, so popping in with a musing or two.

New addiction: Running. It's taking over. I had to pull out of a race last weekend due to a bad bout of the dreaded MANFLU :egad: - was very angry indeed. Better this weekend, and was able to compete in the Heaven and Hell half marathon, which includes a 2 mile run UP a bleedin hill. Got a free banana for all me effort.

Banana?

A banana?

For all that?

Yup... no medal. Just a 'nana.

Off to do a firewalk this evening. I would like to take tomorrow off please. PLEASE?

No such luck.

For those of you who have sponsored me, I promise to thank you all personally. I really do appreciate it. In fact, I have to say MWO peeps have been pretty much the most supportive peeps in helping me fundraise. So thank you. :l

The date. I asked some for advice about a date I was goin on last Thursday. I'm single and to be honest hardly ever go on a date - perhaps as often as i have a birthday. But I'd got chatting to this lass online - via an online dating site, something that still makes me wince a bit, but I'm ignoring the wincing and just trying to accept as a 21st C way of meeting other peeps - and we decided to meet. And yes, it was the girl i mentioned in earlier posts here on the Stella thread, and yes she did have a drink and no I did not.

Which was not easy.

For the first time since giving up I felt a lack for not having a drink. Not the craving at 5pm (still get that, but that's cos I'm tired, hungry and thirsty... and I know that that is just a physical think i can change in a jiffy), but a sense that I was denying myself a kind of communion (excuse the religious tones in the word, don't mean it, but I think it kinda sums up what i mean)... or more simply, a sharing. This is not about getting drunk. This is not about sharing a drink, to only leave a couple of hours later to get lathered by myself in some other drinking establishment or in the privacy of my home. This was about the civility of sharing a single drink. Like anointing the date, the time shared - a sharing. "Let's do this thing! Take a sup and share this hour together" ... I did feel like I was not joining in. It did feel odd.

I'm wary of how much I really share here. I'm not drinking, but my thoughts about my relationship with AL continue to evolve. Most times I see little reason to drink. And I cannot put into words enough how supportive, helpful, wise and guiding people here have been. Yet there are times when I do wonder that perhaps there are moments when a drink feels right.

For many there can never be a 'right' moment - for all the reasons why people are here. For others, there may be.

For your information - cos actually this is the bit yer really interested in... how did it go? Well, I drank me orange, she never mentioned anything about me not drinking, so it was never discussed that I wasn't drinking there and then. She's a few years older than me (4)... Dunno whether this made a different at all. And lots to her that I liked: Small, quirky, outdoorsy, hippyish, intelligent, similar cultural references...good looking... but ... we both agreed that the chemistry wasn't there.

Back to evenings of writing essays for Uni... or watching episodes of Breaking Bad then...

[paulywogg]

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

hey rc i was just askin about you yesterday in the abs thread i hadnt seen you around anywhere in a while glad youre ok too bad there was no chemistry with the girl but if its not there,it cant be forced for sure,as far as feeling weird about the drink share an appetizer next time,people bond over food too in my experiences,take care missed ya!

[RunningCourage]

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

Notes from Day... bollocks...ehm... just guess (177?)

27th May 2013.

It?s Monday evening. In the cottage. Anthony is in the laptop in front of me wailing melodically. He, or they, put me somewhere emotionally. A melancholy. It?s ok. It is ok. (Feelings are funny things, we apparently strive for happiness, joy ecstacy, or simple contentment? yet sometimes we can take a sense of pleasure from sadness, a dip into some self-maudlin for a short while. That?s ok. That is ok.)

(Anthony has stopped wailing about his winged bird girls flying. Arvo?s on the arpeggio now.)

I look into the screens:
the TV with it?s high- definition colour and the gregarious presenters so sycophantically in love with themselves; their co presenters; their guests; their audiences; the glare of the lights; the stare of the probing cameras.
The laptop and a book of faces whose flesh I have not touched, my eyes have not seen for real, my nose has not smelt, my ears have not heard for? for?

Years.

Not that I have much inclination to visit many of them

Such ?friends? as they are.

They stare at some smartphone, some prying camera prized into a hand that has become our eyes, our memory?s substitute. They stare back, their eyes I see, lusting after the camera as if to say "Record this, this is as good as it gets" the photo an empirical memento of a feeling long gone unobserved. And behind the eyes, I sense a wish to the camera "remember me" in case one day we are only to remember by proxy of technology... all the while reveling at some joint, gig, public house, arena, and it looks so?

colourful?

so? vibrant

They stare back and I see their face but do not see what they feel. The faces on facebook are merely masks.

But then our public persona is, is it not?

I am trying to crack through what I perceive to be real and what is, for all intents and purposes, real (we can come back to ?reality? when I am older and wiser). I have a habit of believing my own perceptions when they have no grounds for proof other than what I feel. So, there was a gathering in the city down the road there. A few folks from work gathered. To watch some box-set. Have a few beers maybe. I wasn?t invited. Of course it may not have been my place to be invited. And there is always the question ?would I have wanted to go?? It would have been nice to have been invited I think to myself. But as I say perhaps not my place.

I mentioned in a PM to a good friend my fear that perhaps I am losing friends, becoming ever more reclusive, now that I?m not drinking.

Instead, I run.
(Running to,

or? running from?)

But this isn?t the issue really. It?s like the crack on the surface of a deeper wound. If I so desired I could join old drinking buddies ? but I don?t want to because I?m not drinking. I could go to gigs that I once attended and hang out with colleagues, but really, why? Must I go to an event I?ve been to before, know it?s just standing listening to music I don?t particularly enjoy to sip diet coke while others stand and blether over beers? Perhaps it might be ?fun?... But in all honestly I can?t be arsed. I?m not there anymore. So I don?t. And the more I don?t, the more I don?t go out and the more I don?t go out, the less I am seen and the less I am seen the less I am remembered and you see where this is going? Exactly. The fear.

The fear

Of being left?

Behind.

But as I say, this really is just a crack.
Go deeper?

Go deeper and I find much of this is 'surface'; all about 'face'.
Go deeper and go figure. Myself. Yourself.
That?s what churns up my innards, makes me feel sick sometimes.
Go deeper and I get scared.
Go deeper and I realize there is nothing there but a hand holding onto some figment of the past and the hand needs to -
slip?


slip?


slip?


I have let go before. But i did not fall, I flew. When I gave up drinking, I realised that I wasn't a prisoner to it. I let go and, in many ways, flew.

This last hand, however, hangs on for dear life. Hangs on to a branch that hangs over a precipice; a cliff standing severely high above an abyss, the bottom of which is?

Unknown?

Hanging on for fear that if this hand lets go, there will be nothing. If I let this hand let go off this branch of my past? who am I? Free..? Falling..? My heart leaves the cage and momentarily leaps into my mouth, screams for fear of what happens were l to fall; to let go.

[Unwasted]

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

RC how incredibly beautiful. This is so well-written I initially thought you were quoting a famous poet. As Molly said, it will take coming back and rereading in order to respond more thoughtfully. I'll be back too.