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The Wonderful Things I Can Do With my Time Without Alcohol


 

Poverty.

We think it’s a lack of money, but for me, it’s a lack of a discernible life. There was a time when I would sit on a pin and wouldn’t notice. Today, I sleep on a pile of mattresses 20 thick, and the pea feels like a cannonball.

I lost my virginity on a bathroom floor devoid of sensation. My most intimate relationship, and my mentor when it came to how to please a woman were the peas hiding under my father’s side of the mattress.

Later the computer became my guide.

Pornographic pictures pummelling my palate like plutonium.

Thinking about my old life, I see the Narnian wardrobe. I feel schizophrenic, rambling on about a world that no longer exists. I remember flying high and writing “There’s No Place Like Home,” on the side of an H-bomb, and then cutting the rope. 

Boom!

Burnt toast.

A lamb roast. 

A head through a window, blood dripping on my bright white Nikes, a crazed grin caught in the shards.

A milk crate on top of a car; white blood spilling into the gutter.

What a nutter.

Naked in the middle of a lawn bowls competition.

Handstands.

A hand on the doorknob of temptation. 

The twist. 

The guilt.

The pain.

Showering the bartender. 

Fighting the bartender.

Fighting the bouncer who is friends with the bartender.

The bucket. 

Blue. 

White paint.

Yellow bile tinged with blood.

Broken factory windows; skinless knuckles wrapped around the brick; a mother calling me a prick.

Zombified children are sitting on the settee playing Pokemon while parents get fucked up in another world. A woman is struggling to put shoes on a baby; a man shows her how it's done. A child lies in bed shouting to his parents because he wants to go ‘poo;’ the silent screams of two worms drowning in a home battered by sprinklers with nothing but blackbirds and the baking sun waiting to greet them. 

A job you hate.

A strange woman, late.

Spots.

Blood clots.

Dots.

English, Welsh, Irish and the Scots.

The life of someone lost in the fog of alcoholism is a crazy thing. The things I used to do with my time bordered on the insane to the mundane - a life inert through ball and chain. 

Enough.

Enough.

Enough pain.

Striver Brad asks, “What wonderful things can I do with my time without alcohol?”

And that’s what we talk about in today’s podcast

The Truth About Alcohol
We Are Not Alcoholics, And we Refuse to be Anonymous

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DISCLAIMER: PLEASE READ THIS CAREFULLY: This is not medical advice, and if you believe you require such advice, please seek immediate help from a medical professional. I am not a doctor or a medical practitioner. If you want to quit drinking and are worried about doing so, then in all cases you should first contact your doctor and seek advice and assistance. These are the tools that worked for me, and I share them with you as a learning tool. If you have sought or seek medical advice and or attention and any of these tools are in conflict with that advice or assistance, please do not use these tools. I take no responsibility for the continued use of these tools in contravention of any medical advice or assistance you have sought.