Seem to be finding it difficult to concentrate. Haven't really read any of my current books for any length of time. Reading bits and bobs on the internet, only not now because I've disconnected from everything. Which actually has been quite nice. I had a good day yesterday. It was a bit more difficult than it has been so far, but I coped.
Why have I got a headache? I never have headaches, and I shouldn't be de-hydrated. Perhaps I'm over peeing (see below).
Did something really evil last night - I had a mini-magnum before I went to sleep. Surprisingly nice.
15 seconds to deal with inbox this morning. Result. (not because of the ice cream but because I'm only seeing emails from people I don't know, which are easy to delete - all the others get an auto-reply saying I'm off the web).
Nice to wake up, stiff and a bit groggy and stumble downstairs for juice and milk for my morning tea, and to be feeling better within a few minutes, as opposed to the exact reverse of a few weeks ago. And no regrets.
Deadlines / my treats list / crises. B asked me to come up with a list of treats (quite fun once I'd lost my inhibitions) and passions - things I would like to do (like finish the fucking novel). I produced quite a list and I realised something about myself. I love deadlines and crises, because then I absolutely have to focus on one thing, and I get in the zone or flow, and work at it really hard for a few hours or days and then I've done it. And I feel pleased and satisfied and proud of myself and of course deserve a massive drink. But often I can have a list, as here for B, of things I'm really keen to do, but I just can't make up my mind which thing I'll do. So I often do nothing, or play freecell, or drink. Which is sort of mad. It was why I loved gliding - it's a permanent crisis, you have no choice but to be fully engaged, all the time, in flying the glider - if you aren't, you crash, or you land in some misbegotten field miles from home. But it's not tense (half the skill is to learn how to relax while concentrating on flying really intensely - if you can't relax, you're physically and mentally shattered very quickly). Sailing is a bit the same. And painting. Total absorption.
"I'm spread a bit thin, and I think the kindest thing I can do for myself is to do fewer things better" - B at her 6 month soberversary. Sort of funny / appropriate.
I was just thinking as I leaned out of the window having my morning fag, of alternatives to alcohol. i.e. drinks that are like alcohol, but aren't. Not sweet, cloying, sticky. Refreshing, clean, with a bit of a bite. Also that I can drink by the pint. (Ma and Da called me booze as a baby, because I was so thirsty). And I thought, water fits most of that. (I am producing the most phenomenal amount of urine. After my party, I slept in the caravan and had to pee in my washing up bowl (yeah I rinsed it after). In the morning there seemed to be at least 3 or 4 litres in the bowl. This must be very good for me (or my kidneys/liver anyway).) Anyway, back to drinks. I think nice fizzy water should be added to my list of treats. Ironically.
Natural and induced highs and lows. And alcohol / drugs.
Natural lows :
tired
hungry
depressed
ill
angry / irritated
Natural highs :
flow / in the zone
euphoria
love
sunshine / nature
physical activity (skiiing, wild swimming, walking, climbing, flying)
positive feedback from friends
creativity e.g. painting, making something, repairing something
Induced lows :
hangovers
exhaustion
starvation
rage
paranoia
Induced highs :
being drunk / stoned
hysteria
over-excitement / stimulation
praise / fame (undeserved / unearned)
Not a comprehensive list, but interesting. A sensible response to a natural low, is to deal with the proximate cause (and recognise it first!). So eat, sleep, talk about it, meditate, let it go (the anger or negativity). Not to drink or take drugs to anaesthetise the pain. Obviously a pill, if the illness really requires it (or just rest and sleep).
And a response to a natural high - don't hang on to it, don't try and "improve" it with drugs or drink. Recognise when enough is enough and it's time to move on.
And the induced highs and lows are mostly the result, precisely, of either trying to hide from the unpleasant experiences / feelings, or hang on to or reinforce the highs. It's like, going back to the place where I had a wonderful time (usually with alcohol, although the first time this was just part of the experience, not necessarily the cause) and of course, it's not the same (sometimes it's better), but the drink is still there. So keep repeating the experience, and eventually, that's all that's there. Like Naxos this last time, and actually, like Naxos last year - the good bits almost entirely obscured by the crap of drinking. (I read my journal last night from a year ago, when I started a new volume on my way to Naxos via Corfu - it was truly crap. Not that I didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt rubbish a lot of the time, and that was entirely down to alcohol).
Although I am genuinely not testing my new / temporary sober self (a few days alone at J & I's, a weekend with Pol, my birthday party) and I think I should cut down a little (see induced highs above), I would like to go back to Naxos (if only to retrieve my white jacket from Christos, and kayak with him round the island, and walk to the top of Mavro Vouni from Apollon) and do it sober. Just to see. Next year, in the spring. Ditto Vietnam, even New Zealand and Rhiannon/Ecuador.
My desk, or room, as a metaphor for my brain / state of mind. How chaotic it can look / get, so quickly, and how much better I feel when I actually engage with it, sort it out, work out what needs to be done, what can be filed away or thrown in the bin. How nice it is to live in a clean and tidy space. Energising, bringing my day and life into some kind of focus.
I've just spent (not wasted) an hour or so re-reading my blog from day 1 (I sent the link to Stuart this am). B was right, it's a very good / helpful thing to do (blog every day, that is). It's good to go over the story / journey (and even to read my journal of 18 months ago, although it was very depressing to see how unhappy and unwell I was then). It will be nice if I reach 100.
Spoke to the young in the CoOp who didn't make it to my birthday party - they weren't "dissuaded" by the scout leaders. Lack of DDs and other engagements, apparently. Overshopped.
Borrowed Johnny's car to bring back my overshopping (not really, just way too much for my pathetic new panniers). Meditated, which was a great comfort.
Exciting bath time treat for men (what would happen to a woman?) - black pepper and ginseng muscle soak. Much nicer than it sounds. A quiet evening ahead, just what the doctor ordered - horrible racing brain this afternoon. To which my old response would have been at least a half bottle of Scotch and a spliff, followed swiftly by unconsciousness. Feel much better now.
Still buzzing like a jack rabbit on speed. Up and down, doing this then that - in 10 minutes I brushed my teeth, bottle brushed my teeth, clipped my toe nails, updated my blog, answered 5 emails, tried to listen to In Our Time, then watch telly, then Jeff Salzmann on talking to Trump supporters . . . arggh. Finally, I found Red 2 (B Willis, J Malkovich, H Mirren, Mary-Louise Parker) which was sufficiently violent, funny and fast moving to keep my attention until I went to bed.
It's funny - stopping drinking is I suspect the easy part (for me) - physically, emotionally I felt so much better immediately, but now I'm beginning to bump into the things that got me into heavy drinking in the first place, a long time ago. So, we're going to have to see if there is a different way around the boulder(s) in the middle of the road. On the plus side, I do have meditation, and I'm not working (no distractions, no excuses). Frustrating that all this whizzy energy doesn't seem to translate into anything very constructive like starting back on Metanoia. Tho' that may be the problem - I need to plug myself in to something completely absorbing, to give all this whizz somewhere to go.
I want to turn Jean Tuley's old curtains (now a bit mouse eaten in my crack den) into a nice waistcoat or tabard. Laura has a tailor's dummy and I have a load of pins I bought to stick the Russian labels on my party guests, and a decent pair of shears. If I cut and pin it to size, perhaps Laura can show me how to use her sewing machine.
Why have I got a headache? I never have headaches, and I shouldn't be de-hydrated. Perhaps I'm over peeing (see below).
Did something really evil last night - I had a mini-magnum before I went to sleep. Surprisingly nice.
15 seconds to deal with inbox this morning. Result. (not because of the ice cream but because I'm only seeing emails from people I don't know, which are easy to delete - all the others get an auto-reply saying I'm off the web).
Nice to wake up, stiff and a bit groggy and stumble downstairs for juice and milk for my morning tea, and to be feeling better within a few minutes, as opposed to the exact reverse of a few weeks ago. And no regrets.
Deadlines / my treats list / crises. B asked me to come up with a list of treats (quite fun once I'd lost my inhibitions) and passions - things I would like to do (like finish the fucking novel). I produced quite a list and I realised something about myself. I love deadlines and crises, because then I absolutely have to focus on one thing, and I get in the zone or flow, and work at it really hard for a few hours or days and then I've done it. And I feel pleased and satisfied and proud of myself and of course deserve a massive drink. But often I can have a list, as here for B, of things I'm really keen to do, but I just can't make up my mind which thing I'll do. So I often do nothing, or play freecell, or drink. Which is sort of mad. It was why I loved gliding - it's a permanent crisis, you have no choice but to be fully engaged, all the time, in flying the glider - if you aren't, you crash, or you land in some misbegotten field miles from home. But it's not tense (half the skill is to learn how to relax while concentrating on flying really intensely - if you can't relax, you're physically and mentally shattered very quickly). Sailing is a bit the same. And painting. Total absorption.
"I'm spread a bit thin, and I think the kindest thing I can do for myself is to do fewer things better" - B at her 6 month soberversary. Sort of funny / appropriate.
I was just thinking as I leaned out of the window having my morning fag, of alternatives to alcohol. i.e. drinks that are like alcohol, but aren't. Not sweet, cloying, sticky. Refreshing, clean, with a bit of a bite. Also that I can drink by the pint. (Ma and Da called me booze as a baby, because I was so thirsty). And I thought, water fits most of that. (I am producing the most phenomenal amount of urine. After my party, I slept in the caravan and had to pee in my washing up bowl (yeah I rinsed it after). In the morning there seemed to be at least 3 or 4 litres in the bowl. This must be very good for me (or my kidneys/liver anyway).) Anyway, back to drinks. I think nice fizzy water should be added to my list of treats. Ironically.
Natural and induced highs and lows. And alcohol / drugs.
Natural lows :
tired
hungry
depressed
ill
angry / irritated
Natural highs :
flow / in the zone
euphoria
love
sunshine / nature
physical activity (skiiing, wild swimming, walking, climbing, flying)
positive feedback from friends
creativity e.g. painting, making something, repairing something
Induced lows :
hangovers
exhaustion
starvation
rage
paranoia
Induced highs :
being drunk / stoned
hysteria
over-excitement / stimulation
praise / fame (undeserved / unearned)
Not a comprehensive list, but interesting. A sensible response to a natural low, is to deal with the proximate cause (and recognise it first!). So eat, sleep, talk about it, meditate, let it go (the anger or negativity). Not to drink or take drugs to anaesthetise the pain. Obviously a pill, if the illness really requires it (or just rest and sleep).
And a response to a natural high - don't hang on to it, don't try and "improve" it with drugs or drink. Recognise when enough is enough and it's time to move on.
And the induced highs and lows are mostly the result, precisely, of either trying to hide from the unpleasant experiences / feelings, or hang on to or reinforce the highs. It's like, going back to the place where I had a wonderful time (usually with alcohol, although the first time this was just part of the experience, not necessarily the cause) and of course, it's not the same (sometimes it's better), but the drink is still there. So keep repeating the experience, and eventually, that's all that's there. Like Naxos this last time, and actually, like Naxos last year - the good bits almost entirely obscured by the crap of drinking. (I read my journal last night from a year ago, when I started a new volume on my way to Naxos via Corfu - it was truly crap. Not that I didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt rubbish a lot of the time, and that was entirely down to alcohol).
Although I am genuinely not testing my new / temporary sober self (a few days alone at J & I's, a weekend with Pol, my birthday party) and I think I should cut down a little (see induced highs above), I would like to go back to Naxos (if only to retrieve my white jacket from Christos, and kayak with him round the island, and walk to the top of Mavro Vouni from Apollon) and do it sober. Just to see. Next year, in the spring. Ditto Vietnam, even New Zealand and Rhiannon/Ecuador.
My desk, or room, as a metaphor for my brain / state of mind. How chaotic it can look / get, so quickly, and how much better I feel when I actually engage with it, sort it out, work out what needs to be done, what can be filed away or thrown in the bin. How nice it is to live in a clean and tidy space. Energising, bringing my day and life into some kind of focus.
I've just spent (not wasted) an hour or so re-reading my blog from day 1 (I sent the link to Stuart this am). B was right, it's a very good / helpful thing to do (blog every day, that is). It's good to go over the story / journey (and even to read my journal of 18 months ago, although it was very depressing to see how unhappy and unwell I was then). It will be nice if I reach 100.
Spoke to the young in the CoOp who didn't make it to my birthday party - they weren't "dissuaded" by the scout leaders. Lack of DDs and other engagements, apparently. Overshopped.
Borrowed Johnny's car to bring back my overshopping (not really, just way too much for my pathetic new panniers). Meditated, which was a great comfort.
Exciting bath time treat for men (what would happen to a woman?) - black pepper and ginseng muscle soak. Much nicer than it sounds. A quiet evening ahead, just what the doctor ordered - horrible racing brain this afternoon. To which my old response would have been at least a half bottle of Scotch and a spliff, followed swiftly by unconsciousness. Feel much better now.
Still buzzing like a jack rabbit on speed. Up and down, doing this then that - in 10 minutes I brushed my teeth, bottle brushed my teeth, clipped my toe nails, updated my blog, answered 5 emails, tried to listen to In Our Time, then watch telly, then Jeff Salzmann on talking to Trump supporters . . . arggh. Finally, I found Red 2 (B Willis, J Malkovich, H Mirren, Mary-Louise Parker) which was sufficiently violent, funny and fast moving to keep my attention until I went to bed.
It's funny - stopping drinking is I suspect the easy part (for me) - physically, emotionally I felt so much better immediately, but now I'm beginning to bump into the things that got me into heavy drinking in the first place, a long time ago. So, we're going to have to see if there is a different way around the boulder(s) in the middle of the road. On the plus side, I do have meditation, and I'm not working (no distractions, no excuses). Frustrating that all this whizzy energy doesn't seem to translate into anything very constructive like starting back on Metanoia. Tho' that may be the problem - I need to plug myself in to something completely absorbing, to give all this whizz somewhere to go.
I want to turn Jean Tuley's old curtains (now a bit mouse eaten in my crack den) into a nice waistcoat or tabard. Laura has a tailor's dummy and I have a load of pins I bought to stick the Russian labels on my party guests, and a decent pair of shears. If I cut and pin it to size, perhaps Laura can show me how to use her sewing machine.
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