Today I attended Belfast Archie's funeral. It was truly incredible. My words cannot do it justice. There were over 400 people. Mostly from AA. The whole service was full of his life, love and recovery. He was 50 years sober. It was a true celebration. Like an AA state funeral. A total classic.
I didn't know him very well, so I wouldn't dream of trying to sum him up, talk about him or claim overfamiliarity. That would be egoic. I attended as a member of AA, to pay respects. I had seen him in meetings over the years, he had always said a word or two in my ear and I had tremendous respect for his long term sobriety. I'm a fan of AA, it's history. It's traditions. I personally believe old timers should be afforded respect. I'd be a fool not to learn from them.
People like Archie are more important than they even know or would dare to think of themselves. He is one of the forefathers of AA in this country. He was part of the group who set the tone for us all to walk behind. He never gave it the big un of 'look how many years sober I am', he never gave it the 'wasn't like this in my day', as far as I can tell he never showed any form of ego. He just got on with it, year in year out.
He seemed to walk the path which shows all us babies in recovery that it can be done, that you can live a long term sober life and be truly happy and free.
That's not to place him on a pedestal. From all the readings today from his family, his son, sponsee's, people he had helped, the last place he would of wanted to be was placed above anyone.
But 50 years of recovery should be respected. Not just that but the people he helped along the way. Here was a man who valued AA, valued recovery, respected alcoholism and the tools as a recovery from it. He was steeped in it and it shone through today.
Firstly the amount of people who turned up to pay their respects. Nearly 500. Some were close friends, some knew him a long time and others like me barely knew him other than from seeing in meetings. All wanted to pay respects for his life.
The church was packed. Stranding room only in the aisles. I think half of London AA turned up. The service was a belter. Kicked off by the reverend but then taken by a lady who proceeded to bind together his life, his story, people within it and invite a number of people up to share their memories of him and read poignant poems and prayers that meant so much to him.
His coffin, decked in flowers and inscribed with the words 'to thine own self be true' lay at the front for everyone to see. Flanked by his family and surrounded by friends it was a stark example of the power of recovery.
I know I keep harping on about it. But my father, an active alcoholic for 30 years died at the age of 65. There were 8 people at the funeral.
Archie, 50 years sober, died from a heart attack at the age of 77. There were 500. Incredible.
Children, wife, family, grandchildren, friends, AA members. The whole range of life was there in death. An extraordinary show of what it means to help so many people and be so active in many people's lives.
He probably had no idea how loved he was. He probably had no idea how many people he helped just by walking his path.
You think that people like Archie will go on forever because you always see him at the meetings. Year in year out, always helping newcomers, always sharing the solution. Always being rock solid. That helps more than he could ever know for people like me. Just by staying sober so long it helped me. It gave me solace and hope and a sense of ease and comfort.
That's not to say I liked everything he shared. I didn't. I remember getting resentments against him because he kept sharing about the solution and was so happy most of the time. Sometimes for miserable angry alcoholics like me, it's painful to hear recovery. My disease wants me miserable sometimes and the self centredness of alcoholism will think the person sharing the solution in the room is sharing directly at you and criticising you because you're not doing it.
Of course that wasn't him, that was my head and my madness but it goes to show you how sick it is sometimes. I'm only 12 years down the track. I have no idea what Archie was like at 12 years, but you can bet as sure as shit he was different at 5 months, to 5 years to 15 years to 50 years.
The readings were beautiful. Footsteps prayer, an Irish Blessing, the step 3 prayer and lots more besides. The stage had a screen full of photos of his life with his kids, grand kids, family, friends, at conventions, singing, living life.
There was song, laughter, tears and spirituality. At the end after the Rev said a prayer for him, everyone joined hands and did the serenity prayer. Powerful stuff.
It's easy for me to say this because I wasn't closely involved. When you are the sadness and grief is so raw and real and painful. I have been to many funerals where it is sullen, sombre and sad.
But today, of course was sad but I was struck by how upbeat it was. How many laughs there were. People seemed genuinely happy when remembering him. There was lots of smiles and laughs. it was touching and genuine.
There was one saying amongst the readings described by his sister in law. I loved it, she said (paraphrasing)
"If you want to know what kind of man you are. Think 20-30 years ahead when you're on your deathbed what kind of legacy you've left behind. How many did you love? Who loved you? How many people did you help?"
Surveying the send off today. Here was a man who genuinely cared. A man who loved and received love. Who helped so many. Who was thought of so highly. What better way can a man be remembered than that? Nice one Archie.
**********************************************************************
I just want to share a quick example of alcoholism in my life today. 12 years In it showed why I'm a baby to this spiritual path. I have lots to learn and change yet.
I'm at a team meeting at work this morning. The boss ends the meeting with a general plea to the 15 people in the room to be respectful of your colleagues in the working environment and not be too loud and disruptive.
So what does the only alcoholic in the room do? He instantly feels that he's talking about me of course. That I am to blame. It's ridiculous. That's alcoholism for you. Self centred fear which runs at the heart of my soul. I didn't have to try to bring that to myself. I laughed at myself on the way out. The alcoholic mind is a powerful foe sometimes.
Then after getting into work this afternoon I was struck with enormous financial fear and insecurity. No matter that I'd been at a recovery funeral. No matter that I'd just observed what a life of recovery does.
Instead my 'rights', 'should's' and regrets moved in. I should have a house. I should have lots of savings. I should be here in my life. Not 2 months away from ruin. What if I lose my job? What then? and so the fear and panic started to take over.
Now I'm 12 years sober and know the drill. But sitting on my own trying to fight this evil force in my head is impossible sometimes. This is when for me a power than myself needs to kick in. Says it in step 2. "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity."
I know I wasn't living in now. I know I was starting to project. I know my mind was heading into a dark space. Insanity.
So I took myself off to a meeting. I wanted to hit the gym to work on my pecs but instead went to a meeting to work on my head. Good move. Suddenly the fear became manageable. Suddenly it became normal sized. Suddenly I was able to breath.
That's why I still go. That's why I suppose Archie went for 50 years. As without recovery. Without the tools, the meetings, the people, the hope, it's just me and my disease in my head. And if I listened to that devil for long enough I'd have to drink and quieten it. There would be no other way out. And if that went on too long there would be no 500 people at the funeral. There would be 8.
So Thank god for AA. Thank god for Archie and thank God I'm on the firm today. I'm a massive enough lunatic sober with all the tools at my disposal, let alone drunk.
We lost a foreman of the firm today. A true old timer with a lot of class, dignity and knowledge. It's not replaced but what it did show me today that I can learn the values and traditions of the fellowship and try to employ them in my own little way.
Sure I fall down. Yes I have a Long way to go. But I'm in with a chance and I wanted to thank you Archie and all the men/women who have trodden this path before. Without them I'd be truly buggered.
The final words I will leave to him. As his sponsee reminded us today. One of his favourite phrases.
Trust God
Clean House
Help Others
I'm pretty good at number 3, it's the other two I need to work on. Thanks Archie, send Elvis Presley our love
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Monday, May 26, 2014
Day 119 - Classic Rainy Bank Holiday and why do blokes sleep after sex?
Today was a classic British Bank Holiday Monday for the simple reason it rained all day and felt like everyone was waiting for tomorrow.
It's an annual British cliche that it rains on Bank Holiday Mondays. Mind you it usually does. Today was no different. It felt like a Sunday from the 70's. For those of you old enough to remember what one of those was like.
If you're not old enough let me explain. Have you ever sat in a Doctors waiting room waiting to be seen? That's what Sunday's used to be like back then. It was a long slow painful day where nothing was open, apart from a corner shop. Pubs closed at lunchtime until the evening. There was no Internet, computer games, mobile phones, what's App, texting, digital TV. You had 3 channels and a video recorder you just knew your Mum had recorded Coronation Street over something you wanted to watch. There wasn't even live sport or football. You'd get the Big Match highlights, if you were lucky, followed by Police 5.
It was a day to spend with your family, even though everyone was bored. The streets were deserted, there was hardly anything to do and it felt like everyone was just counting down the hours until they had to go back to work/school the next day. Once the theme tune to All Creatures Great and Small or 'Last of The Summer Wine' came one the misery was complete.
That's been the feeling in the camp today. Like an old school Sunday. Luckily we now have 100 channels, Internet, phones, apps, messaging to while away the hours of boredom whilst it rains until we have to go back to normality tomorrow. It's the same thing, we just have more 'stuff' now.
Luckily I've felt completely lazy today and done bugger all. I've been in my pants at home since 4pm and the incessant rain has enabled me to indulge in doing nothing guilt free. There is nothing I'd rather be doing today than laying horizontally idly reading a book, grazing on grub and watching an occasional movie. Even blinking was an effort today.
The two most strenuous things I have done was to make love to my girlfriend and go to an AA meeting. Now for the integrity of this blog, my relationship and you reading. I wont go into too much detail about either. After all reading about someone else's sex life is like hearing your parents at it when you were a kid. It's wrong, embarrassing and well, just wrong, again.
However, I'm not sure if it's the same for other blokes but after a bit if rumpy In the morning I always catch the incurable knackered disease and feel like sleeping for 12 days. I seem to have a 10 Min's kip zone. If I can keep my eyes open for 10 minutes then I'm OK, I perk up and I'm ready to face the day. However if those eyes shut. Boom. I'm gone for a good hour or two in the deepest sleep. Never to truly recover my energy.
Women don't seem to have the same affliction. They seem pretty sprightly after nuptials. But us guys. Jesus Christ, it's like we've just had 15 rounds with Carl Froch and George Groves. We're a wreck. Totally useless. Well, I am anyway.
Why do we get so knackered after? Scientifically there must be an answer. It can't be just bone idleness. If you've only lasted for 5 minutes and fall asleep after you're a disgrace to manhood. That's not on. Those sort of men are the ones who have trouble reverse parking. They're a fucking menace girls and best to be avoided.
No, if like me you put you're heart and soul into it and give it a good hour or so, then I think you've earned your kip afterwards. Not just that but a pat on the back and a bacon sandwich.
It's like you've just been shooting up testosterone for an hour. All that surge of adrenaline, lust and testosterone culminating in a spunk bomb renders you useless. Kip is not only welcome. It's inevitable.
God forbid boys if you've bagged a woman who likes to do it 4 or 5 times. Christ you're in for a rough time then. That's something guys just cant open up about. People just don't want to hear you moaning about getting too much. That you are deprived of sleep because of you're girlfriends insatiable horn.
You can get away with it if you have young kids and you haven't had sleep for months. Then you will get bucket loads of sympathy. But if you start blathering on about sleep deprivation because your woman goes more than the shit house door when the plagues in town. Well you better steel yourself for some abuse. Quite right too.
The simple fact is that blokes need kip after sex. It's a medical fact. The trick though boys is to make sure you've given her a hug, kiss, told her she's amazing, asked if her orgasm was real and then you are clear to kip peacefully.
The problem is if you've shot your load and she hasn't reached orgasm. That's a dilemma. Your eyes are drooping, you're yawning like parent with a new born and she needs to orgasm. That is hell on earth right there. You are faced with a huge dilemma.
Fail to complete the job and you have to suffer the consequences. Not only will you be indebted to her in some way but probably on the receiving end of some kind of silent scorn. A woman won't actually tell her she's resentful or indeed may say "It's no big deal." But believe me it is. That kind of resentment gets buried for years.
Not only that but your male pride will be affected. If your cant make you're woman orgasm then it gnaws away at your manhood. Clawing away at your psyche. Forget not being able to reverse park, explain the offside law or work a power tool. If you fail in that department you're cock will literally shrivel overnight. Unless of course you're a man who doesn't give a shit or indeed are gay. In which case this probably isn't the blog for you.
At that stage there is only one thing to do chaps. Emergency measures are required. After all it helps not to be selfish in sex with your loved one. It pays to think of your partner. Of her needs. Of her desires. Of her sexual energy. That is what relationships are all about. Giving. Making each other happy. Going the extra mile.
So don't be selfish boys. If you find yourself drifting off after you've reached orgasm. Don't leave her waiting on hers. It's simple. Just pull out the emergency vibrator from the bedside cabinet, leave it on her side of the bed, place a picture of Zac Effron on her pillow, whisper, 'I love you darling, see you in a couple of hours' and roll over to sleep safe in the knowledge you have selflessly thought of everything.
Of course you may wake up alone in an empty house. But that's the chance you have to take.
It's either that or fight off the inevitable sleep and go down on her for what seems like an eternity until your tongue goes numb, you hallucinate through tiredness and jaw locks. No matter it's not about enjoyment at that stage chaps. It's all about grim determination. You have to get the job done.
Your whole relationship is on the line here. You have to hang in there boys. You can even part sleep if you're experienced enough. Get yourself in that state of REM where you are neither awake or asleep. That way you wont get frustrated after 20 Min's of oral and snap, "when the fuck are you going to come?" That will kill the mood boys. No, keep your trap shut, well a little shut anyway, concentrate on that erogenous zone and keep at it until you get a result. Once she achieves orgasm you can sleep then. Not only that but she will be far more amenable to cook you breakfast and dinner and if you deliver a real belter of an O, she may even give your gaff a quick hoover. Not that we're in it just for a pay off girls. Promise.
Hope you enjoyed your Bank Holiday. I did. Weird blog today but my mind was mush.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
It's an annual British cliche that it rains on Bank Holiday Mondays. Mind you it usually does. Today was no different. It felt like a Sunday from the 70's. For those of you old enough to remember what one of those was like.
If you're not old enough let me explain. Have you ever sat in a Doctors waiting room waiting to be seen? That's what Sunday's used to be like back then. It was a long slow painful day where nothing was open, apart from a corner shop. Pubs closed at lunchtime until the evening. There was no Internet, computer games, mobile phones, what's App, texting, digital TV. You had 3 channels and a video recorder you just knew your Mum had recorded Coronation Street over something you wanted to watch. There wasn't even live sport or football. You'd get the Big Match highlights, if you were lucky, followed by Police 5.
It was a day to spend with your family, even though everyone was bored. The streets were deserted, there was hardly anything to do and it felt like everyone was just counting down the hours until they had to go back to work/school the next day. Once the theme tune to All Creatures Great and Small or 'Last of The Summer Wine' came one the misery was complete.
That's been the feeling in the camp today. Like an old school Sunday. Luckily we now have 100 channels, Internet, phones, apps, messaging to while away the hours of boredom whilst it rains until we have to go back to normality tomorrow. It's the same thing, we just have more 'stuff' now.
Luckily I've felt completely lazy today and done bugger all. I've been in my pants at home since 4pm and the incessant rain has enabled me to indulge in doing nothing guilt free. There is nothing I'd rather be doing today than laying horizontally idly reading a book, grazing on grub and watching an occasional movie. Even blinking was an effort today.
The two most strenuous things I have done was to make love to my girlfriend and go to an AA meeting. Now for the integrity of this blog, my relationship and you reading. I wont go into too much detail about either. After all reading about someone else's sex life is like hearing your parents at it when you were a kid. It's wrong, embarrassing and well, just wrong, again.
However, I'm not sure if it's the same for other blokes but after a bit if rumpy In the morning I always catch the incurable knackered disease and feel like sleeping for 12 days. I seem to have a 10 Min's kip zone. If I can keep my eyes open for 10 minutes then I'm OK, I perk up and I'm ready to face the day. However if those eyes shut. Boom. I'm gone for a good hour or two in the deepest sleep. Never to truly recover my energy.
Women don't seem to have the same affliction. They seem pretty sprightly after nuptials. But us guys. Jesus Christ, it's like we've just had 15 rounds with Carl Froch and George Groves. We're a wreck. Totally useless. Well, I am anyway.
Why do we get so knackered after? Scientifically there must be an answer. It can't be just bone idleness. If you've only lasted for 5 minutes and fall asleep after you're a disgrace to manhood. That's not on. Those sort of men are the ones who have trouble reverse parking. They're a fucking menace girls and best to be avoided.
No, if like me you put you're heart and soul into it and give it a good hour or so, then I think you've earned your kip afterwards. Not just that but a pat on the back and a bacon sandwich.
It's like you've just been shooting up testosterone for an hour. All that surge of adrenaline, lust and testosterone culminating in a spunk bomb renders you useless. Kip is not only welcome. It's inevitable.
God forbid boys if you've bagged a woman who likes to do it 4 or 5 times. Christ you're in for a rough time then. That's something guys just cant open up about. People just don't want to hear you moaning about getting too much. That you are deprived of sleep because of you're girlfriends insatiable horn.
You can get away with it if you have young kids and you haven't had sleep for months. Then you will get bucket loads of sympathy. But if you start blathering on about sleep deprivation because your woman goes more than the shit house door when the plagues in town. Well you better steel yourself for some abuse. Quite right too.
The simple fact is that blokes need kip after sex. It's a medical fact. The trick though boys is to make sure you've given her a hug, kiss, told her she's amazing, asked if her orgasm was real and then you are clear to kip peacefully.
The problem is if you've shot your load and she hasn't reached orgasm. That's a dilemma. Your eyes are drooping, you're yawning like parent with a new born and she needs to orgasm. That is hell on earth right there. You are faced with a huge dilemma.
Fail to complete the job and you have to suffer the consequences. Not only will you be indebted to her in some way but probably on the receiving end of some kind of silent scorn. A woman won't actually tell her she's resentful or indeed may say "It's no big deal." But believe me it is. That kind of resentment gets buried for years.
Not only that but your male pride will be affected. If your cant make you're woman orgasm then it gnaws away at your manhood. Clawing away at your psyche. Forget not being able to reverse park, explain the offside law or work a power tool. If you fail in that department you're cock will literally shrivel overnight. Unless of course you're a man who doesn't give a shit or indeed are gay. In which case this probably isn't the blog for you.
At that stage there is only one thing to do chaps. Emergency measures are required. After all it helps not to be selfish in sex with your loved one. It pays to think of your partner. Of her needs. Of her desires. Of her sexual energy. That is what relationships are all about. Giving. Making each other happy. Going the extra mile.
So don't be selfish boys. If you find yourself drifting off after you've reached orgasm. Don't leave her waiting on hers. It's simple. Just pull out the emergency vibrator from the bedside cabinet, leave it on her side of the bed, place a picture of Zac Effron on her pillow, whisper, 'I love you darling, see you in a couple of hours' and roll over to sleep safe in the knowledge you have selflessly thought of everything.
Of course you may wake up alone in an empty house. But that's the chance you have to take.
It's either that or fight off the inevitable sleep and go down on her for what seems like an eternity until your tongue goes numb, you hallucinate through tiredness and jaw locks. No matter it's not about enjoyment at that stage chaps. It's all about grim determination. You have to get the job done.
Your whole relationship is on the line here. You have to hang in there boys. You can even part sleep if you're experienced enough. Get yourself in that state of REM where you are neither awake or asleep. That way you wont get frustrated after 20 Min's of oral and snap, "when the fuck are you going to come?" That will kill the mood boys. No, keep your trap shut, well a little shut anyway, concentrate on that erogenous zone and keep at it until you get a result. Once she achieves orgasm you can sleep then. Not only that but she will be far more amenable to cook you breakfast and dinner and if you deliver a real belter of an O, she may even give your gaff a quick hoover. Not that we're in it just for a pay off girls. Promise.
Hope you enjoyed your Bank Holiday. I did. Weird blog today but my mind was mush.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Day 118 - Bank Holiday Boozers
I'm writing this at 9.30pm and everyone is pissed.
I'm just home after spending the day hanging in the sun in Richmond with my GF.
We had one of those idyllic lazy Sunday's where you take the papers, camp outside a cafe in the sun, sit, chill, read, laze, talk, drink tea (me), wine (her) smoke, chat to people and watch the world go by.
It was an afternoon equivalent of Crosby, Stills and Nash. Easy listening. Middle of the road. Half paced but not half arsed. I liked it.
It was followed by a relaxing dinner at a great pub with live music, reclining on a battered sofa and topped off with triple cooked chips and a fresh cream Sundae. Bingo!
There was a great atmosphere on the streets today. You could feel it. The sun was out, no work tomorrow. It's a Bank Holiday weekend, so everyone was milling about, happy, smiling, chatting and mostly drinking. I love it when Britain's like that.
A classic summer bank holiday. The mood is good and the weather is sweet, to spend it lazing around watching the world go by, by the river was a real treat. There's something about being by the river. By water on a sunny day that makes everything OK.
By 9pm, we nipped into Richmond to pick up some stuff and everyone was pissed. Girls were swaying across the street in their long flouncy summer dresses, boys staggering around balancing bottles of Magner's with Marlboro Light in salmon pink shorts or chinos. Groups of OAP's bumbling around like they'd forgotten their mobility scooters. The whole place was arse holed. It was hilarious.
A full summers day of boozing merrily in the Sun meant lots of red faces and strap lines as people swayed about not wanting the day to end. Bank holiday Sunday's when it's sunny is a freedom pass to drink. No work tomorrow so Britain becomes one massive Wetherspoons. Sometimes I miss the freedom of those endless afternoons.
You could almost see the hangover forming on some of them. Even looking at them made me thirsty.
But what struck me was that nobody were alcoholics. They were just normal people getting on the lash because it was sunny and they had no work tomorrow. I love that.
I never demonise drink. It's just not for me or other alcoholics. But I would never ever look down or criticise people for getting pissed. It's what we do in Britain. It just made me laugh that all the conditions seemed to give everyone an excuse to tear the arse out of today. I like being sober enough and out and about to observe it.
But the thing is Richmond is so posh and middle class attracting so many out of towners when the weather is sweet because it's such a good spot by the river, that the pissed up crew are like Extras from Made in Chelsea. Coupled with the fact it had one of those Foodie Festivals going on, like a mass Farmers Market it was as if the entire audience of Great Brutish Bake off decided to meet in Richmond for a wine soaked piss up.
I did spot a couple of good old alkies though, drinking Special Brew, shirt unbuttoned to the navel shouting at the traffic just to keep the town honest. The practicing alkies weren't entirely drowned out by the part timers.
In the morning I went to a great little meeting and felt good to be sober. I met a guy who was shaking like a shitting dog at his first meeting. A street drinker who had, had enough. He had no teeth and was 4 days 'off the booze'. One more strike and he would go to prison for a long time. Like most, it was all alcohol related.
I suppose to the outside world, me, looking like a poor man's David Beckham chatting to messy gap toothed Big Issue seller would look like an odd combination. A mix match. But we have the same disease. I am him if I don't go to meetings and pick up a drink. And he is me if he can put the drink down and do meetings. It's an amazing leveller and I love it. No man is better or worse. That's why in AA it is a We programme not 'I'. I know when I'm in my disease when it's all 'I'. It's been a little like that this past week if I'm honest.
I gave him a few quid and a meetings list and sent him on his way. He was a lovely little fella. I just hope to God he took the £8 home to his missus so they could eat instead of bagging 6 tins of Tenants Super. I hope I see him back, but we shall see.
All in all I had a great day. It showed me that normal people who like a drink far outweigh us alcoholics. It showed me that Bank Holidays in the sun send the population booze bonkers. It showed me that The sun does bring out a cafe culture in certain parts of the country. And it showed me that we are all equal. Not what we see on the outside.
Hope you have a good Bank Holiday, whatever you're doing and just for today I'm very grateful I don't have kids as everyone who went by from our spot outside the cafe who had kids all looked totally stressed, miserable and overweight. It may have just been weird odds but nearly all of them looked like they wanted to be doing what I was.
Weirdly everyone who walked past with a dog all looked happy and lean. Is that a coincidence parents out there? For this self centred, responsibility phobic loony hasn't got a clue about all that. I merely observed it today, granted through 12 cups of tea and 21 silk cut but boy did I look happier than most of them.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
I'm just home after spending the day hanging in the sun in Richmond with my GF.
We had one of those idyllic lazy Sunday's where you take the papers, camp outside a cafe in the sun, sit, chill, read, laze, talk, drink tea (me), wine (her) smoke, chat to people and watch the world go by.
It was an afternoon equivalent of Crosby, Stills and Nash. Easy listening. Middle of the road. Half paced but not half arsed. I liked it.
It was followed by a relaxing dinner at a great pub with live music, reclining on a battered sofa and topped off with triple cooked chips and a fresh cream Sundae. Bingo!
There was a great atmosphere on the streets today. You could feel it. The sun was out, no work tomorrow. It's a Bank Holiday weekend, so everyone was milling about, happy, smiling, chatting and mostly drinking. I love it when Britain's like that.
A classic summer bank holiday. The mood is good and the weather is sweet, to spend it lazing around watching the world go by, by the river was a real treat. There's something about being by the river. By water on a sunny day that makes everything OK.
By 9pm, we nipped into Richmond to pick up some stuff and everyone was pissed. Girls were swaying across the street in their long flouncy summer dresses, boys staggering around balancing bottles of Magner's with Marlboro Light in salmon pink shorts or chinos. Groups of OAP's bumbling around like they'd forgotten their mobility scooters. The whole place was arse holed. It was hilarious.
A full summers day of boozing merrily in the Sun meant lots of red faces and strap lines as people swayed about not wanting the day to end. Bank holiday Sunday's when it's sunny is a freedom pass to drink. No work tomorrow so Britain becomes one massive Wetherspoons. Sometimes I miss the freedom of those endless afternoons.
You could almost see the hangover forming on some of them. Even looking at them made me thirsty.
But what struck me was that nobody were alcoholics. They were just normal people getting on the lash because it was sunny and they had no work tomorrow. I love that.
I never demonise drink. It's just not for me or other alcoholics. But I would never ever look down or criticise people for getting pissed. It's what we do in Britain. It just made me laugh that all the conditions seemed to give everyone an excuse to tear the arse out of today. I like being sober enough and out and about to observe it.
But the thing is Richmond is so posh and middle class attracting so many out of towners when the weather is sweet because it's such a good spot by the river, that the pissed up crew are like Extras from Made in Chelsea. Coupled with the fact it had one of those Foodie Festivals going on, like a mass Farmers Market it was as if the entire audience of Great Brutish Bake off decided to meet in Richmond for a wine soaked piss up.
I did spot a couple of good old alkies though, drinking Special Brew, shirt unbuttoned to the navel shouting at the traffic just to keep the town honest. The practicing alkies weren't entirely drowned out by the part timers.
In the morning I went to a great little meeting and felt good to be sober. I met a guy who was shaking like a shitting dog at his first meeting. A street drinker who had, had enough. He had no teeth and was 4 days 'off the booze'. One more strike and he would go to prison for a long time. Like most, it was all alcohol related.
I suppose to the outside world, me, looking like a poor man's David Beckham chatting to messy gap toothed Big Issue seller would look like an odd combination. A mix match. But we have the same disease. I am him if I don't go to meetings and pick up a drink. And he is me if he can put the drink down and do meetings. It's an amazing leveller and I love it. No man is better or worse. That's why in AA it is a We programme not 'I'. I know when I'm in my disease when it's all 'I'. It's been a little like that this past week if I'm honest.
I gave him a few quid and a meetings list and sent him on his way. He was a lovely little fella. I just hope to God he took the £8 home to his missus so they could eat instead of bagging 6 tins of Tenants Super. I hope I see him back, but we shall see.
All in all I had a great day. It showed me that normal people who like a drink far outweigh us alcoholics. It showed me that Bank Holidays in the sun send the population booze bonkers. It showed me that The sun does bring out a cafe culture in certain parts of the country. And it showed me that we are all equal. Not what we see on the outside.
Hope you have a good Bank Holiday, whatever you're doing and just for today I'm very grateful I don't have kids as everyone who went by from our spot outside the cafe who had kids all looked totally stressed, miserable and overweight. It may have just been weird odds but nearly all of them looked like they wanted to be doing what I was.
Weirdly everyone who walked past with a dog all looked happy and lean. Is that a coincidence parents out there? For this self centred, responsibility phobic loony hasn't got a clue about all that. I merely observed it today, granted through 12 cups of tea and 21 silk cut but boy did I look happier than most of them.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Day 117 - Outbreak of Peace and This world is going insane
Finally I have peace! After a week of massive impatience, intolerance and simmering pressure an outbreak of peace took place today. I must admit, I'm pretty relieved. As is the rest of the world, at least the ones who work in call centres anyway.
Yesterday I said sorry to Angela, the Call Centre c**t. She's not really that of course. It was all my doing. She was unfortunately on the receiving end of my vitriol. Having said that I'm convinced she's planted by the c**t police to wind people up on purpose. Taking a sick pleasure out of the misery and frustration she causes. It must be a power thing.
There's another one who's on the reception of my GP surgery in Barnes. She is utterly incredible. Mixing downright stupidity with rudeness and arrogance to form a powerful cocktail of misery.
Still, I must clear my side of the street, concentrate on myself and not judge others. I'm in recovery see. That is what we are taught. What I did was wrong, stupid and uncalled for. It's disrespectful to another human being. Angela may have been having a bad day. Her roots may have been showing. Her boyfriend may well have slept with her best friend. She may have overeaten Minstrels at breakfast. Who knows. To shout 'FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING CUNT' down the phone at 9.15 am is no way to talk to anyone. It's intolerant, impatient, selfish, self centred, prideful, arrogant and egoic.
Having said that it's still pretty funny though. And she really was a call centre c**t.
Judging by the reaction to the blog I am not alone. Everyone has their own call centre experience. Some have even banned themselves from using them, such is the danger to their sanity. You require a lot of patience, tolerance and phone credit to use them.
It never used to be this hard. Did it? Why in this technological age, when we are supposedly light years ahead of previous generations, where we can pay a bill by the swipe of our phones. Where we can speak to anyone around the world face to face, when information is instant, is it so friggin hard?
Why does it take so long to report an accident, get a bill queried or make a complaint about poor service?
Corporations are taking the piss. They make it so difficult for us to see if we give up and just accept the butt fucking they are giving us with extra charges, hidden discrepancies, over billing. WE are being systematically pissed on from a great height and it is infuriating.
Endless faceless call centres, some in India, some in this country, all of which are of little or no use. To make a complaint you have to write, or waste hours being transferred from department to department, as they no doubt all shout in their office, "we've got another here guys. Let's fuck him up. Make him wait longer."
It's a big game and it's just getting harder.
Why are some parts of life so complicated? It's so frustrating. I must be getting old. Oh no, have I really turned into one of those old sods I hated in my youth, who said 'it wasn't like this in my day'?
In my day - You had an 'on' and 'off' button with a few others and gadgets were easy to use.
If you had a compliant you saw someone to get it sorted.
If you had an accident you would speak to your broker and they would at least lie to you with a smile and not keep you waiting 5 hours.
We've always been dicked by these companies. Insurance, finance, banks, telecommunications, energy. All they want is our money. At least in old school days they did it more openly with a smile rather than now, where they hide it beneath layers and layers of bureaucracy and then spend millions on advertising saying "we care about you". Sickening.
Anyway, enough of such ranting. That's just the way it is in the UK today. Still, at least the UKIP party isn't on the rise. Jesus, what the fuck is going on the elections. What is happening to this country? It's insane. All of the parties are worthless buffoons. But who in the hell is voting for UKIP? What are we coming to.
I swear to god I look around and wonder about this country, this world. It's genuinely getting more insane. Martial law in Bangkok, mass drive by shootings in California, Far right fascism on the increase in Europe and Kim Kardashian having an £11 million wedding. What the fuck is going on?!!!!
I found out a great stat the other day that pretty much sums it all up for me. Ready for it? I couldn't believe it.
There are now more smart phone handsets in the world than toothbrushes. Take a moment to digest that. More phones than toothbrushes.
I know you can use fingers to clean your teeth and people survived long before the toothbrush was invented. I know that people in parts of the world don't use them but they are pretty much accepted as a good thing and part of on going health to keep our teeth and gums in place. But they have now been outnumbered by smart phones. How weird is that?
Here's another belter.
Smart phones are used in the following order;
1 - Internet
2 - Messaging
3 - Phone calls
The very thing it was designed for is now only 3rd on the list. How the fuck did that happen? Amazing. It's a different landscape now. A totally different world.
According to many it's bigger and better and faster and richer. But is it really better? Is it really richer? Look around you. Are you reading this on a handset on the train? How many are playing on their phones? How many are not communicating? Messaging has now replaced speaking as an order of communication.
It's not our fault. I am addicted to my iPhone. I'm terrible for messaging instead of calling. It's so much easier!!!! Communication for the lazy.
It's so much easier having a conversation with someone when you don't speak to them. You don't have that whole nightmare of the voices in your head wondering if what you said was OK, if they like you, what they just said, what you have to say next. Conversations are such a ball ache sometimes. It's so much easier to send a text or Whats App.
Or better still, just put a Facebook update on your page, so you don't have to speak to anyone then about what you're up to. Mass communication. That's the key. It saves so much time that way. Speaking and meeting people takes up ages.
Just think, all that time you save not speaking or seeing people. And what can we do with that precious time saved? Spend it surfing social media of course. Perfect! The circle is formed. Those technology crack makers have got us just where they want us. It's not our fault we're insane. We're just following the script. They are turning us all into addicts.
Isn't that right Angela? Now finish your minstrels.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Yesterday I said sorry to Angela, the Call Centre c**t. She's not really that of course. It was all my doing. She was unfortunately on the receiving end of my vitriol. Having said that I'm convinced she's planted by the c**t police to wind people up on purpose. Taking a sick pleasure out of the misery and frustration she causes. It must be a power thing.
There's another one who's on the reception of my GP surgery in Barnes. She is utterly incredible. Mixing downright stupidity with rudeness and arrogance to form a powerful cocktail of misery.
Still, I must clear my side of the street, concentrate on myself and not judge others. I'm in recovery see. That is what we are taught. What I did was wrong, stupid and uncalled for. It's disrespectful to another human being. Angela may have been having a bad day. Her roots may have been showing. Her boyfriend may well have slept with her best friend. She may have overeaten Minstrels at breakfast. Who knows. To shout 'FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING CUNT' down the phone at 9.15 am is no way to talk to anyone. It's intolerant, impatient, selfish, self centred, prideful, arrogant and egoic.
Having said that it's still pretty funny though. And she really was a call centre c**t.
Judging by the reaction to the blog I am not alone. Everyone has their own call centre experience. Some have even banned themselves from using them, such is the danger to their sanity. You require a lot of patience, tolerance and phone credit to use them.
It never used to be this hard. Did it? Why in this technological age, when we are supposedly light years ahead of previous generations, where we can pay a bill by the swipe of our phones. Where we can speak to anyone around the world face to face, when information is instant, is it so friggin hard?
Why does it take so long to report an accident, get a bill queried or make a complaint about poor service?
Corporations are taking the piss. They make it so difficult for us to see if we give up and just accept the butt fucking they are giving us with extra charges, hidden discrepancies, over billing. WE are being systematically pissed on from a great height and it is infuriating.
Endless faceless call centres, some in India, some in this country, all of which are of little or no use. To make a complaint you have to write, or waste hours being transferred from department to department, as they no doubt all shout in their office, "we've got another here guys. Let's fuck him up. Make him wait longer."
It's a big game and it's just getting harder.
Why are some parts of life so complicated? It's so frustrating. I must be getting old. Oh no, have I really turned into one of those old sods I hated in my youth, who said 'it wasn't like this in my day'?
In my day - You had an 'on' and 'off' button with a few others and gadgets were easy to use.
If you had a compliant you saw someone to get it sorted.
If you had an accident you would speak to your broker and they would at least lie to you with a smile and not keep you waiting 5 hours.
We've always been dicked by these companies. Insurance, finance, banks, telecommunications, energy. All they want is our money. At least in old school days they did it more openly with a smile rather than now, where they hide it beneath layers and layers of bureaucracy and then spend millions on advertising saying "we care about you". Sickening.
Anyway, enough of such ranting. That's just the way it is in the UK today. Still, at least the UKIP party isn't on the rise. Jesus, what the fuck is going on the elections. What is happening to this country? It's insane. All of the parties are worthless buffoons. But who in the hell is voting for UKIP? What are we coming to.
I swear to god I look around and wonder about this country, this world. It's genuinely getting more insane. Martial law in Bangkok, mass drive by shootings in California, Far right fascism on the increase in Europe and Kim Kardashian having an £11 million wedding. What the fuck is going on?!!!!
I found out a great stat the other day that pretty much sums it all up for me. Ready for it? I couldn't believe it.
There are now more smart phone handsets in the world than toothbrushes. Take a moment to digest that. More phones than toothbrushes.
I know you can use fingers to clean your teeth and people survived long before the toothbrush was invented. I know that people in parts of the world don't use them but they are pretty much accepted as a good thing and part of on going health to keep our teeth and gums in place. But they have now been outnumbered by smart phones. How weird is that?
Here's another belter.
Smart phones are used in the following order;
1 - Internet
2 - Messaging
3 - Phone calls
The very thing it was designed for is now only 3rd on the list. How the fuck did that happen? Amazing. It's a different landscape now. A totally different world.
According to many it's bigger and better and faster and richer. But is it really better? Is it really richer? Look around you. Are you reading this on a handset on the train? How many are playing on their phones? How many are not communicating? Messaging has now replaced speaking as an order of communication.
It's not our fault. I am addicted to my iPhone. I'm terrible for messaging instead of calling. It's so much easier!!!! Communication for the lazy.
It's so much easier having a conversation with someone when you don't speak to them. You don't have that whole nightmare of the voices in your head wondering if what you said was OK, if they like you, what they just said, what you have to say next. Conversations are such a ball ache sometimes. It's so much easier to send a text or Whats App.
Or better still, just put a Facebook update on your page, so you don't have to speak to anyone then about what you're up to. Mass communication. That's the key. It saves so much time that way. Speaking and meeting people takes up ages.
Just think, all that time you save not speaking or seeing people. And what can we do with that precious time saved? Spend it surfing social media of course. Perfect! The circle is formed. Those technology crack makers have got us just where they want us. It's not our fault we're insane. We're just following the script. They are turning us all into addicts.
Isn't that right Angela? Now finish your minstrels.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Day 116 - Call Centre C***s
I'm not going to lie, my stress and pressure has built up over the past few days until today. It erupted.
Lots of work deadlines, waiting on lots of outcomes, lots of decisions outside of my control, waiting, waiting and more waiting. Add some domestic turbulence, lots of stress and chaos around some personal relationships and my intolerance, impatience of alcoholism and you have a heady mix.
The final straw began last night and blew this morning.
An old lady I help now and again rang the previous day saying her car had been removed and was in a car pound. She's lovely but a little helpless and rings me for help now and again. Usually at the times I'm most busy and under stress. Still I'm a people pleaser and of course said, 'leave it to me'.
So, after calling around we ascertained it had been crashed into overnight, damaged and removed. It was now in a car pound, undriveable and accumulating costs.
Cue 8 calls to different departments of her insurance company to try and find the right department to deal with. Finally late in the day I was told. "I'm sorry but you don't have permission we need data protection. Is she with you?"
"Er no, she's 30 miles away, I'm at work, she's hard of hearing, Czech and slightly insane, hence why I'm calling on her behalf."
"You don't have permission"
"But I have all the details"
"I'm sorry Sir you'll have to get her to call"
The call was cut. Then I called her to ask her to call the insurance company to give me permission. That proved a painful experience. It was like trying to talk someone through brain surgery as I explained to her what she had to do and how to do it.
Finally we got there and I was free to talk. I called the insurance company. The lady was on the phone, I was told, "she'll call you back Sir". She never did.
I tried again this morning, still riddled with anger, niggly intolerance and a burning resentment against the bureaucratic bastards.
She answered the phone. Then immediately back tracked when confronted about not calling me back.
"Anyway we're here now. Can i proceed with the clam?"
"Yes Sir, what's the password?"
"What Password?"
"You need it to proceed"
"You didn't tell me that last night, you said you merely needed to speak to the woman so she can confirm I'm acting on behalf of her" You did so here I am."
"We cannot proceed without a password."
"But why tell me that now and not on the phone yesterday."
"Well I'm saying it now Sir, you need a password."
I was starting to boil. Bits were now falling off. The red mist descending,
"I've called 8 times. Spent 2 hours getting the right department, have given the policy number, crime reference number, address, post code, car registration number, a date and time of incident and where the car is impounded. We have an OAP who is freaking out and all I'm trying to do is report the fucking incident. How difficult can it be"
"Please don't swear Sir" (fuck this swearing for a lark. I was heaving by now)
"So you're telling me you cannot proceed?"
"No"
"It's easier to report a fucking murder than this."
At this point I instantaneously thought i had a choice. A choice not to give into my rage and anger. I could put the phone down and instead give myself a break. I could pray. I had already meditated that morning. I could count to 10 and walk away. It wasn't her fault the stupid rules. Yes she was being unhelpful and unfriendly but i had a choice here. After all Nick, you're 12 years sober and in recovery.
I replied
"FUCK YOU. FUCK OFF. YOU FUCKING CUUUUUUUNNNNNTTTTT!!!!!" on the top of my voice and cut the call.
Not quite the outcome I'd hoped for. Not sure she would release the information now.
I then hyperventilated, let the anger subside and laughed at myself. What a twat. That was proper temper. Anti recovery.
The funniest thing is i could actually hear her reply to my outburst but cut the call before i could hear it fully. What on earth was she playing at? I think she was enjoying it and wound me up on purpose.
I rang my old lady friend gave her the numbers and instructed her to deal with it, I had to go to work and may have ended up killing someone if i carried on.
My day was busy, i felt niggly and stressed all day and had the full intention to call her and apologise. It wasn't her fault. It was other reasons that caused the outburst.
It reminded me of the bloke who physically assaulted his wife because she cooked the sprouts too much. You can guarantee it wasn't the sprouts but the years of built up resentment before. That's how it felt today, except the sprouts were overcooked on purpose it and then rubbed in my face. Repeatedly.
Moral of the day. Never start it off with a call centre and if you do be sure to do more than 5 Min's meditation. I think 5 hours is needed first, then prayer, then a meeting, then fuck loads of valium. Cunts. Call centre c***s!
Together We Are Stronger
Nick E Evans
Lots of work deadlines, waiting on lots of outcomes, lots of decisions outside of my control, waiting, waiting and more waiting. Add some domestic turbulence, lots of stress and chaos around some personal relationships and my intolerance, impatience of alcoholism and you have a heady mix.
The final straw began last night and blew this morning.
An old lady I help now and again rang the previous day saying her car had been removed and was in a car pound. She's lovely but a little helpless and rings me for help now and again. Usually at the times I'm most busy and under stress. Still I'm a people pleaser and of course said, 'leave it to me'.
So, after calling around we ascertained it had been crashed into overnight, damaged and removed. It was now in a car pound, undriveable and accumulating costs.
Cue 8 calls to different departments of her insurance company to try and find the right department to deal with. Finally late in the day I was told. "I'm sorry but you don't have permission we need data protection. Is she with you?"
"Er no, she's 30 miles away, I'm at work, she's hard of hearing, Czech and slightly insane, hence why I'm calling on her behalf."
"You don't have permission"
"But I have all the details"
"I'm sorry Sir you'll have to get her to call"
The call was cut. Then I called her to ask her to call the insurance company to give me permission. That proved a painful experience. It was like trying to talk someone through brain surgery as I explained to her what she had to do and how to do it.
Finally we got there and I was free to talk. I called the insurance company. The lady was on the phone, I was told, "she'll call you back Sir". She never did.
I tried again this morning, still riddled with anger, niggly intolerance and a burning resentment against the bureaucratic bastards.
She answered the phone. Then immediately back tracked when confronted about not calling me back.
"Anyway we're here now. Can i proceed with the clam?"
"Yes Sir, what's the password?"
"What Password?"
"You need it to proceed"
"You didn't tell me that last night, you said you merely needed to speak to the woman so she can confirm I'm acting on behalf of her" You did so here I am."
"We cannot proceed without a password."
"But why tell me that now and not on the phone yesterday."
"Well I'm saying it now Sir, you need a password."
I was starting to boil. Bits were now falling off. The red mist descending,
"I've called 8 times. Spent 2 hours getting the right department, have given the policy number, crime reference number, address, post code, car registration number, a date and time of incident and where the car is impounded. We have an OAP who is freaking out and all I'm trying to do is report the fucking incident. How difficult can it be"
"Please don't swear Sir" (fuck this swearing for a lark. I was heaving by now)
"So you're telling me you cannot proceed?"
"No"
"It's easier to report a fucking murder than this."
At this point I instantaneously thought i had a choice. A choice not to give into my rage and anger. I could put the phone down and instead give myself a break. I could pray. I had already meditated that morning. I could count to 10 and walk away. It wasn't her fault the stupid rules. Yes she was being unhelpful and unfriendly but i had a choice here. After all Nick, you're 12 years sober and in recovery.
I replied
"FUCK YOU. FUCK OFF. YOU FUCKING CUUUUUUUNNNNNTTTTT!!!!!" on the top of my voice and cut the call.
Not quite the outcome I'd hoped for. Not sure she would release the information now.
I then hyperventilated, let the anger subside and laughed at myself. What a twat. That was proper temper. Anti recovery.
The funniest thing is i could actually hear her reply to my outburst but cut the call before i could hear it fully. What on earth was she playing at? I think she was enjoying it and wound me up on purpose.
I rang my old lady friend gave her the numbers and instructed her to deal with it, I had to go to work and may have ended up killing someone if i carried on.
My day was busy, i felt niggly and stressed all day and had the full intention to call her and apologise. It wasn't her fault. It was other reasons that caused the outburst.
It reminded me of the bloke who physically assaulted his wife because she cooked the sprouts too much. You can guarantee it wasn't the sprouts but the years of built up resentment before. That's how it felt today, except the sprouts were overcooked on purpose it and then rubbed in my face. Repeatedly.
Moral of the day. Never start it off with a call centre and if you do be sure to do more than 5 Min's meditation. I think 5 hours is needed first, then prayer, then a meeting, then fuck loads of valium. Cunts. Call centre c***s!
Together We Are Stronger
Nick E Evans
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Day 115 - Relationships
Relationship - The way in which two or more people or things are connected, or the state of being connected
Relationships are hard. At least, I find them that way. Does anyone else? I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.
There are all kinds of relationships. Friends, colleagues, strangers, family members and of course romantic and sexual ones. In fact we have relationships with most people we come into contact with. As the Oxford English dictionary describes it. People we are connected with or a state of being connected.
I have a relationship with you. My readers. With Facebook, social media, cigarettes, alcohol, AA, weight, insecurity, my own self, work, money, prestige, social standing. In fact pretty much anything I am connected with I develop some kind of relationship with. Trouble is I'm a rip roaring addict, so I struggle to have balanced connectivity. That's where I find difficulty.
So what happens if you continually have the kind of relationships you don't want? What happens if your relationships are not satisfactory? If they don't work as well as you want them? Or if others seem to have better ones. Is it fate? Circumstance? Luck? Is it my fault or 'just the way it goes?
When one talks about relationships most of us think of romantic ones. They are the main headline news. But what of others?
Here all forms of dysfunction can play out. Spend too long on social media wondering what others are up to or making your own existence seem better? Maybe your relationship with social media is unhealthy? How's your relationship with food, fitness, health, money? Mine has been up and down for as long as I can remember. Why? As I said before I am a maladjusted human being. An addict/alcoholic.
How about in the work place? Do you hate your colleagues or boss? Stuck in a job you don't like? Is that your fault or just the way it goes?
How about your partner, if you have one. Happy with them? Harbouring deep resentments? Feel you've picked the wrong one? Looking for a way out? Maybe you've resigned yourself to being unhappy? Or do you love and cherish your partner and feel totally happy. I hope you do. I really do.
What about family? Do you love yours? is it open and honest and nurturing or full of dysfunction and madness. Do you feel you were born into the wrong one or is it full of Waltonesque moments. Is it loving? Are you happy?
Whatever you have, life is full of relationships. Both good and bad. It wouldn't be life without them. There are good times and bad. But what happens if you permanently make decisions that place your happiness and others in jeapordy. What happens If you keep having bad relationships. Why is that? Is nature, nurture or just bad luck?
First we have to find out what the common denominator in all of them are? Well it's me. Always me. I am the only one that has been in my life since birth. So if I'm having defective relationships with people or things it can only be down to me and my character. Of course the other has a part to play but ultimately I made the decision to enter into that relationship.
Now for me, I'm an alcoholic. This means I have an odd character. I'm driven by a hundred forms of self centred, self seeking fear, worry, insecurity and ego. That's not to say I'm a bad man or more fucked up than the next person. It's just what I am. Just like I have blue eyes. I was born this way. My job is to pick my way through, learn to accept what I am and find a way to move away from it or manage it so I can live a reasonably normal, happy and healthy life. It's to not indulge in the behaviours that harms others. Trouble is I am naturally drawn to them and have indulged some of them for so long they are perfectly normal to me. If not others.
The difficulty comes in the collateral damage from finding that path. Some people enter into your life at the right time. Others at the wrong time. If it's not your time that relationship can suffer. Some people are put in our path to help teach us and shape our journey. Others are hurt along the way. i have hurt and for that I am sorry. I really am.
I'm also born the way I am. A product of my childhood, upbringing and generation. So if I add all those things together along with alcoholism, I am left with me, Nicholas Edward Evans aged 41 and half. It's as much about ego if a snivel and hide the bad behaviour as it is to beat myself up too much for it and own other people's failings.
I've always had a problem with relationships.
I'll tell you what else I've always had a problem with which has affected my relationships.
I've always had a problem with authority. Not wanting to be told what to do or follow rules.
I've always had a problem with intimacy. Not so much in being open and honest but in truly letting someone else in to my inner thoughts and feelings.
I've always had a problem with commitment. Based out of fear and worry for the future.
I've always had a problem with vulnerability. Not wanting to show it for fear of exposing my deep held fearful truth of being weak and irrelevant.
I've always had a problem with sustainability. Either in friendships or romantic relationships. Based out of the effort and work it takes to compromise and work through difficult times.
I've always had a problem with responsibility. Which is why I shied away from marriage, kids and mortgages for so long.
I've always had a problem with myself. Either low self esteem, not feeling good enough or worrying I'll never match up to inner ideals.
I've always had a problem with my core self. Always feeling I had to have outside affirmations and attention to feel better inside.
Part of these problems are down to an alcoholic personality. Others down to childhood. Others just the way my character is. We are all magnificently fragile in some way or other.
But I tell you this and this is the money shot. The reason for today's blog. The one main relationship that needs to be 100%. The main relationship that needs to be good for your whole life is the relationship with yourself. If that's not right then all bets are off and every single relationship you have with another person or thing will be dysfunctional in some way or form.
How do I know that? Well I've lived through it for 41 years. Seen it in my own family. Heard 1000's of people share similar patterns. I know that's key.
If I have a relationship based on my own self to make up for own deficiencies it is bound to go wrong somewhere down the line.
People tear each other apart blaming each other for what isn't their fault. Some have deficiencies and they don't even know. I have blamed others for things they are simply not capable of giving and vice versa. My biggest crime then is not looking hard enough at my own side of the street and seeing how my make up has affected the relationship.
Ultimately I get what I get because I deserve it. No matter how painful. Now matter how many are hurt. No matter how things work out. If I am not OK with Nick, then nothing will work.
How do we know when we pick the right one? Does it just click? Are you aligned by soul? Laugh at the same things or just fit each other at the right time?
Many of my friends are married and have kids and have been through really hard times in their relationships. It's the ones who stick at it, work at it and crucially are open to making it work that last the course. They to me are the real heroes.
And for me? Is that me? Well it hasn't been so far. But I tell you what I know it may sound wank. I know it may sound schmaltzy. I know it may not be how I expected to be at 41, but I really am OK with me. I have my faults, my problems, my problems around honesty, alcoholism, commitment etc. But fundamentally I'm OK. But I have much work to do in being OK with me. With loving myself. I find that journey the hardest of all.
That's the journey to emotional sobriety. Physical sobriety is pretty fucking awesome but it's the deeper stuff that's the gold and the pain is the bumpy journey to get there. Still, at least I'm on it trouble is I'm not getting any younger to find it. But find it I will. I promise you of that.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Relationships are hard. At least, I find them that way. Does anyone else? I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.
There are all kinds of relationships. Friends, colleagues, strangers, family members and of course romantic and sexual ones. In fact we have relationships with most people we come into contact with. As the Oxford English dictionary describes it. People we are connected with or a state of being connected.
I have a relationship with you. My readers. With Facebook, social media, cigarettes, alcohol, AA, weight, insecurity, my own self, work, money, prestige, social standing. In fact pretty much anything I am connected with I develop some kind of relationship with. Trouble is I'm a rip roaring addict, so I struggle to have balanced connectivity. That's where I find difficulty.
So what happens if you continually have the kind of relationships you don't want? What happens if your relationships are not satisfactory? If they don't work as well as you want them? Or if others seem to have better ones. Is it fate? Circumstance? Luck? Is it my fault or 'just the way it goes?
When one talks about relationships most of us think of romantic ones. They are the main headline news. But what of others?
Here all forms of dysfunction can play out. Spend too long on social media wondering what others are up to or making your own existence seem better? Maybe your relationship with social media is unhealthy? How's your relationship with food, fitness, health, money? Mine has been up and down for as long as I can remember. Why? As I said before I am a maladjusted human being. An addict/alcoholic.
How about in the work place? Do you hate your colleagues or boss? Stuck in a job you don't like? Is that your fault or just the way it goes?
How about your partner, if you have one. Happy with them? Harbouring deep resentments? Feel you've picked the wrong one? Looking for a way out? Maybe you've resigned yourself to being unhappy? Or do you love and cherish your partner and feel totally happy. I hope you do. I really do.
What about family? Do you love yours? is it open and honest and nurturing or full of dysfunction and madness. Do you feel you were born into the wrong one or is it full of Waltonesque moments. Is it loving? Are you happy?
Whatever you have, life is full of relationships. Both good and bad. It wouldn't be life without them. There are good times and bad. But what happens if you permanently make decisions that place your happiness and others in jeapordy. What happens If you keep having bad relationships. Why is that? Is nature, nurture or just bad luck?
First we have to find out what the common denominator in all of them are? Well it's me. Always me. I am the only one that has been in my life since birth. So if I'm having defective relationships with people or things it can only be down to me and my character. Of course the other has a part to play but ultimately I made the decision to enter into that relationship.
Now for me, I'm an alcoholic. This means I have an odd character. I'm driven by a hundred forms of self centred, self seeking fear, worry, insecurity and ego. That's not to say I'm a bad man or more fucked up than the next person. It's just what I am. Just like I have blue eyes. I was born this way. My job is to pick my way through, learn to accept what I am and find a way to move away from it or manage it so I can live a reasonably normal, happy and healthy life. It's to not indulge in the behaviours that harms others. Trouble is I am naturally drawn to them and have indulged some of them for so long they are perfectly normal to me. If not others.
The difficulty comes in the collateral damage from finding that path. Some people enter into your life at the right time. Others at the wrong time. If it's not your time that relationship can suffer. Some people are put in our path to help teach us and shape our journey. Others are hurt along the way. i have hurt and for that I am sorry. I really am.
I'm also born the way I am. A product of my childhood, upbringing and generation. So if I add all those things together along with alcoholism, I am left with me, Nicholas Edward Evans aged 41 and half. It's as much about ego if a snivel and hide the bad behaviour as it is to beat myself up too much for it and own other people's failings.
I've always had a problem with relationships.
I'll tell you what else I've always had a problem with which has affected my relationships.
I've always had a problem with authority. Not wanting to be told what to do or follow rules.
I've always had a problem with intimacy. Not so much in being open and honest but in truly letting someone else in to my inner thoughts and feelings.
I've always had a problem with commitment. Based out of fear and worry for the future.
I've always had a problem with vulnerability. Not wanting to show it for fear of exposing my deep held fearful truth of being weak and irrelevant.
I've always had a problem with sustainability. Either in friendships or romantic relationships. Based out of the effort and work it takes to compromise and work through difficult times.
I've always had a problem with responsibility. Which is why I shied away from marriage, kids and mortgages for so long.
I've always had a problem with myself. Either low self esteem, not feeling good enough or worrying I'll never match up to inner ideals.
I've always had a problem with my core self. Always feeling I had to have outside affirmations and attention to feel better inside.
Part of these problems are down to an alcoholic personality. Others down to childhood. Others just the way my character is. We are all magnificently fragile in some way or other.
But I tell you this and this is the money shot. The reason for today's blog. The one main relationship that needs to be 100%. The main relationship that needs to be good for your whole life is the relationship with yourself. If that's not right then all bets are off and every single relationship you have with another person or thing will be dysfunctional in some way or form.
How do I know that? Well I've lived through it for 41 years. Seen it in my own family. Heard 1000's of people share similar patterns. I know that's key.
If I have a relationship based on my own self to make up for own deficiencies it is bound to go wrong somewhere down the line.
People tear each other apart blaming each other for what isn't their fault. Some have deficiencies and they don't even know. I have blamed others for things they are simply not capable of giving and vice versa. My biggest crime then is not looking hard enough at my own side of the street and seeing how my make up has affected the relationship.
Ultimately I get what I get because I deserve it. No matter how painful. Now matter how many are hurt. No matter how things work out. If I am not OK with Nick, then nothing will work.
How do we know when we pick the right one? Does it just click? Are you aligned by soul? Laugh at the same things or just fit each other at the right time?
Many of my friends are married and have kids and have been through really hard times in their relationships. It's the ones who stick at it, work at it and crucially are open to making it work that last the course. They to me are the real heroes.
And for me? Is that me? Well it hasn't been so far. But I tell you what I know it may sound wank. I know it may sound schmaltzy. I know it may not be how I expected to be at 41, but I really am OK with me. I have my faults, my problems, my problems around honesty, alcoholism, commitment etc. But fundamentally I'm OK. But I have much work to do in being OK with me. With loving myself. I find that journey the hardest of all.
That's the journey to emotional sobriety. Physical sobriety is pretty fucking awesome but it's the deeper stuff that's the gold and the pain is the bumpy journey to get there. Still, at least I'm on it trouble is I'm not getting any younger to find it. But find it I will. I promise you of that.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Monday, May 19, 2014
Day 114 - Recovery, cinema and Cock Porn
Sometimes the best form of therapy is laughter. As you know I'm a big fan of recovery, meetings and a spiritual path.
But sometimes the best thing to do is take yourself off to the cinema, get yourself a large bag of popcorn or 'cockporn' as my girlfriend mistankenly called it (or was it mistaken?) settle back, watch Bad Neighbours and laugh your tits off.
Letting go of a busy day, fears of tomorrow and life in general is so good for you sometimes. We all need a bit of recovery but sometimes the best form of recovery is laughter and escape from every day life.
I urge everyone to go and see it. I also urge you to ask the spotty kid serving for a large bag of salted cock porn. See his reaction. Then change your mind and ask for sweet cock porn. Then see his reaction again. It's almost as funny as the film.
Short blog. Not a lot to say. Other than The walk across Richmond Bridge on the way home from the cinema at 10.45pm with the air still, the river calm on a perfectly mild summer's evening felt a little like being on holiday. Seems a shame to suddenly remember it's only Monday night and It's work all week.
Still. It could be worse. I could be serving cockporn,
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
But sometimes the best thing to do is take yourself off to the cinema, get yourself a large bag of popcorn or 'cockporn' as my girlfriend mistankenly called it (or was it mistaken?) settle back, watch Bad Neighbours and laugh your tits off.
Letting go of a busy day, fears of tomorrow and life in general is so good for you sometimes. We all need a bit of recovery but sometimes the best form of recovery is laughter and escape from every day life.
I urge everyone to go and see it. I also urge you to ask the spotty kid serving for a large bag of salted cock porn. See his reaction. Then change your mind and ask for sweet cock porn. Then see his reaction again. It's almost as funny as the film.
Short blog. Not a lot to say. Other than The walk across Richmond Bridge on the way home from the cinema at 10.45pm with the air still, the river calm on a perfectly mild summer's evening felt a little like being on holiday. Seems a shame to suddenly remember it's only Monday night and It's work all week.
Still. It could be worse. I could be serving cockporn,
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Day 113 - The Difference Between Recovery and Non Recovery
** Before I begin I have spent 2 hours trying to upload images onto this blog only for BlogSpot to not let me. It is shit and I am close to throwing this laptop out of the window. Which is not a good idea because it is work's because I'm such a knob-head I left mine on the tube. I am pissed off. I have sworn more than ever in my life. Instead of re-writing I'm going to proceed without the images which makes the entire blog redundant. It's BlogSpot's fault it's shit. So if anyone is reading and likes my blog and wants to build me my own site and blog then message me because I hope BlogSpot dies of some kind of technological venereal disease. Bastards. Blog bastards. Big fucking bastard blogfucking wankers-spot bastards. **
Much has been written about recovery and non recovery. To most people it is difficult to understand and not really high on their agenda. That's fair enough I suppose. All I'm trying to do is to place addiction on the same table as other diseases in terms of awareness and education. Simple as that really. So I thought I would briefly try and explain in easy to understand, every day terms, the difference between recovery and non recovery. Let me set the scene. I went to my Mum's with Girlfriend for Sunday lunch. After setting the UK record for pork sausage eating and my post lunch kip in the sun, we started chatting about recovery. I'm sure she wont mind me saying that her life was devastated by alcoholism through my Dad, brother and to a lesser extent mine, over 30 years. It is only recently she has gone to Alanon and it has completely changed her life, how she handles the insanity in the family and is of great help and solace to her. It's remarkable and I'm so very proud.
She was talking about life situations and she said the sentence,
"If this would have happened before I would have been beside myself with worrying 24/7 but since walking a spiritual path (recovery) I just know it's going to be OK. It's like night and day."
This got me thinking as the conversation continued. I looked around the garden thinking, 'before and after', 'before and after'. 'Night and day'. There was a radical statement that she had said so matter of fact. One could almost miss it.
My mind raced, I wanted to find something to show that statement. My eyes scanned the garden. Then bingo. I spotted it. I dragged it into the middle of the garden and said to my Mum. "Can I show you the difference between recovery and non recovery as you just said."Yes of course darling/"
"OK, this is non recovery" (Here a picture of me on a garden chair without a cushion looking pained if only those wankers at Blogspot would let me upload an image)
"What do you see?" I asked.
"Er, someone with piles?" replied my Mum
"No, I mean with the chair. No cushion."
"Oh, I see. Well it's hard, uncomfortable and difficult to sit on."
"Precisely"
And now, when I put the cushion on?
(A picture of me on Garden chair with a big cushion looking happy if only those wankers at BlogSpot would enable me to do something revolutionary and add more than 1 image)
"Easier, more comfortable, less painful." Said my Mum. 'Thank you'
That is essentially the difference between recovery and non recovery through the medium of garden furniture. It may well be a first for the recovery industry that. Not sure it will take off though, but you get my point. My Mum quite liked it anyway.
To end. Here's a pic of my two girls and a massive tray of meat. I could only in the end upload one image. So I went with my girls instead of my meat. It was a close run thing. But What more could a man want on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Bye for now.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
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