The Boxing Ring.
OK, I have been doing battle with my opponent, ?drinking Neil? for almost 35 years now.
A new metaphor popped into my head, while reading another thread about AA.
Sober Neil was the only one in the ring for the first 16 years of life. Then one day, drinking Neil climbed through the ropes, and walked right up to me with a sucker punch. Knocked my ass out with a right hook, and I was down for the count of 5 or 6 years. In this match, only a TKO forever is the win.
Then sober Neil got back up, and took some rabbit punches at drinking Neil, and surprised him a bit. Drinking Neil did some fancy footwork, and a little dance, and BAM! On the floor again by way of a sneaky left jab. Out for count again, for many years.
Then a little wiser, sober Neil got back up, and sat in the corner for bit, while child Neil gave me some water, and a little styptic on the punch cuts. The bell rang again, and this time I remembered that I could do the footwork too. I made a little dance, and landed a barrage of 5 or 6 punches, all jabs to drinking Neil. He was staggered this time, but did not go down. Referee called time out, and back to the corners. Sober Neil got very confident, and the bell rang again.
This time drinking Neil spiraled in with a Muhammed Ali two-step, swished a lot of fake punches in the air, and then out of nowhere came a sucker punch, and I saw stars again.
Out again, with little tweety birds circling my head. I went down, but crawled back to my feet after a count of 7. I reeled back to the corner, and little Neil, said I was still in the fight, and that I would have to get mean. I would have to pull the gloves off.
So I did. The bell rang again, and I slung the gloves off. This put the zap on drinking Neils head, and he sort of looked scared. I went in, spitting blood, and with rage in my heart, I pummeled drinking Neil with every last thing I knew. I was a little wiser this time, and concentrated on staring right into drinking Neils merciless eyes. Punch after punch I flailed out. Hooks, jabs, my own fakers, and I felt my bare knuckles bloody after opening up several wounds on drinking Neils face. This time no mercy. Drinking Neil hit me a few times, with some weak punches, but this time I was too mad. I kept on ramming my fists into his smart-ass face and torso. Even hit the dude with some bare knuckles kidney punches. Drinking Neils legs got real wobbly, and he went down on both. I had hoped for a TKO, but not until the bell rang again.
We both went to our corners, and drinking Neils eyes looked a bit googly, and I knew this time, I had hurt him bad. I sat down on my stool, and rested. I won that round. Little Neil is fixing me up, and I?m not taking my eyes off my opponent. Time to rest for a bit now.
The bell will ring again, and the fight goes on. I am Rocky.
Be well.
Neil
OK, I have been doing battle with my opponent, ?drinking Neil? for almost 35 years now.
A new metaphor popped into my head, while reading another thread about AA.
Sober Neil was the only one in the ring for the first 16 years of life. Then one day, drinking Neil climbed through the ropes, and walked right up to me with a sucker punch. Knocked my ass out with a right hook, and I was down for the count of 5 or 6 years. In this match, only a TKO forever is the win.
Then sober Neil got back up, and took some rabbit punches at drinking Neil, and surprised him a bit. Drinking Neil did some fancy footwork, and a little dance, and BAM! On the floor again by way of a sneaky left jab. Out for count again, for many years.
Then a little wiser, sober Neil got back up, and sat in the corner for bit, while child Neil gave me some water, and a little styptic on the punch cuts. The bell rang again, and this time I remembered that I could do the footwork too. I made a little dance, and landed a barrage of 5 or 6 punches, all jabs to drinking Neil. He was staggered this time, but did not go down. Referee called time out, and back to the corners. Sober Neil got very confident, and the bell rang again.
This time drinking Neil spiraled in with a Muhammed Ali two-step, swished a lot of fake punches in the air, and then out of nowhere came a sucker punch, and I saw stars again.
Out again, with little tweety birds circling my head. I went down, but crawled back to my feet after a count of 7. I reeled back to the corner, and little Neil, said I was still in the fight, and that I would have to get mean. I would have to pull the gloves off.
So I did. The bell rang again, and I slung the gloves off. This put the zap on drinking Neils head, and he sort of looked scared. I went in, spitting blood, and with rage in my heart, I pummeled drinking Neil with every last thing I knew. I was a little wiser this time, and concentrated on staring right into drinking Neils merciless eyes. Punch after punch I flailed out. Hooks, jabs, my own fakers, and I felt my bare knuckles bloody after opening up several wounds on drinking Neils face. This time no mercy. Drinking Neil hit me a few times, with some weak punches, but this time I was too mad. I kept on ramming my fists into his smart-ass face and torso. Even hit the dude with some bare knuckles kidney punches. Drinking Neils legs got real wobbly, and he went down on both. I had hoped for a TKO, but not until the bell rang again.
We both went to our corners, and drinking Neils eyes looked a bit googly, and I knew this time, I had hurt him bad. I sat down on my stool, and rested. I won that round. Little Neil is fixing me up, and I?m not taking my eyes off my opponent. Time to rest for a bit now.
The bell will ring again, and the fight goes on. I am Rocky.
Be well.
Neil
Control the Mind
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