The View

When grief is shared, there is half the suffering; but when beauty is shared there is twice the joy….thanks to Treekeeperblog for this!

treekeeperblog

They carted James into that part of the hospital where they send people with no family who are expected to die. With his broken body, he was forced to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. His room was cold and sterile, but he had a bright and cheery roommate named Stan.

Stan was bedridden as well. He had the bed next to the window and for one hour each day the nurse would raise his bed so Stan’s lungs could drain. During that hour, Stan would look out the window and spend the entire time telling James about the world outside.

As James lie there, unable to move, he would close his eyes and let his mind fill with the beautiful imagery that Stan painted with his words. Each day was uniquely described in perfection and that time became the most important hour in James’ day.

“Just…

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12:12…

twelvetwelve

I took the Antabuse at 12:12 pm today. When I swallowed it I felt like I was being transported to another dimension. Seriously. Like I stepped from one world to another. That’s how final the Antabuse — how effective the Antabuse is. Because once that pill is down the gullet there is no possibility of even thinking about drinking for at least four days.

Four days if I don’t take another one during that time, that is. That worked for me, for the first few months, but then I tested it at the 3 day mark — I drank, felt fine, and went on a bloody bender. Then I tried it again a couple months later at the 2 day mark and went on this last bender. So….now I’m definitely going to take it every day. That’s the only way I’ll beat myself at my own bloody game.

Aren’t I sneaky??? That’s the whole insanity thing rearing it’s ugly head again! If we alcoholic’s could just use some of our insanely clever thinking in other areas of our lives we probably wouldn’t need our gurgly, churgly bubbly, baby bottle’s! Well, I know that’s not true either, but I’m trying to make a clever point here, clever boy that I know I’m not.

Anyway, as I tell all my friends, “I’m back on the PILL“. They laugh, but get the point. Yup, back on the pill, and mighty grateful.

Last night, I enjoyed that onion on my vegetarian pizza and tonight I enjoyed the potato as yummy wedgie fries alongside my burger. Delicious rewards for my hard work — and it IS hard work, folks, this getting and staying sober stuff. Harder than I ever imagined.

Nelson
P.S. Get a load of this: as I finished writing this blog post I searched the Net for the 12:12 image above. What I found first was a picture from an “Angelic Number’s Chart”. Re-read the first paragraph above, then read what it said regarding the 12:12 number combination;
“Something has changed for the better…healing is on the way…can also mean you have shifted time lines or have recently gone though some type of portal or gateway.”

Pretty great eh!? Wow…

Progress…

progress

I’ve made some progress. I drank less today. Enough less so that tomorrow I can start back on the Antabuse. For me, that really is progress. More so now, I see, than I have seen before. Falling off the wagon this past two weeks showed me how incredibly powerful my addiction is.

That might sound like something obvious, something I should have understood years ago, but no. No, because until now, I only knew the strength of my addiction to the degree that it has affected me — up to two weeks ago. That I relapsed yet again was a surprise. I had been doing so well. I know! Isn’t it remarkable that I picked up the pickle juice again then!? I think it is.

You see, despite doing marvelously well, I was really missing the fun that I used to have at the pub, pickle juice in hand, all giddy n’ bubbly being pickled. Being drunk IS fun, while it lasts…before it kills us. Drinking, feeding an addiction, transcends logic. It’s ludicrous, lackadaisical licentiousness. Pure idiocy — and we love it.

But real love is also about letting go…

May we all.

Nelson

 

 

Potato and Onion…

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Or is it the Onion and Potato?

Whatever. These two have been staring me in the face for the last three days. On my countertop, next to the stove.

Why? Can you guess? Of course not. The Potato is for wedgie fries. The Onion is for home-made pizza.

Both, poised…trembling with anticipation as to who will be first.

First, for what?

First, for dinner, when I get back on the Antabuse. So, a dinner celebrating — rewarding myself — with no drink. No booze.

Yes, yes, I’ve been back at it for the last two weeks. Pissed up every night. Why? I’m not sure. Well, I was missing being at the pub with my friends all pissed up. There was that. It was wearing on me for a while, because I was going there and drinking Zero-alcohol beer for a while, but after a while found it seriously lacking.

Seriously lacking, yes (after a while)…well, because I just couldn’t enjoy being there with my friends with me all stone-cold sober, while they were all pissed up. [Note to self: I can’t go to the pub anymore].

So, ya, there you go. I can’t go to the pub anymore, drinking fake beer, because after a certain amount of time, I just won’t be able to do that anymore and (after a while) will want to join in with the guys and will do just what I did this past two weeks.

And so what do I do now, if I can’t do that!? I think this reveals a huge reason why quitting the drink is so difficult. Our entire lives have been built up around it. Once we quit it, we have NOTHING LEFT. To develop new habits and friends is VERY difficult. VERY, VERY difficult.

So THAT’S what we need to change. We need to discover, develop or invent a new way for us to change our bad habit’s for the good, for the healthy, for the betterment of all!

This is my quest.

Nelson

 

 

 

NELSON here!

3d rendering video.

I’ve had a lot to drink tonight, but this is ME and not Jerry. I’m not sure how or why or whatever, but this really is just me.

I’ve been through a rough stretch in the past week. Out and about and getting pissed up every night…but here I am. I really don’t know what to make of it, of this, all. As far as I know I’m not Bi-Polar! Ack, folks…while I love the clean and sober life, after a few weeks I get restless and crave the good-ol’ times again!

Well, I know I’m not alone. But, fact is, I AM alone. Maybe that’s why this is so hard for me. I come home to only my bloody Silver-Fish every night — and even they run off as soon as I open the door!

So…..yes, SO….I dunno. Well, I do know, that I plan for today to be the last day out and about and out running around from bar to bar schlooping up the irresistible daily bar-beer-specials. I’ll be back on the “Pill” tomorrow…the Antabuse. It gives me terrible fatigue, but that doesn’t ruin my sleep or cost me any of the precious few pennies that I make. And, it makes it easy for me to not drink…there IS THAT!

And, and…well, I would really LIKE there to be an AND to this post. Something high-faluten,  but that aint going to happen. I just need to go to bed.

Fact is, alcohol — like any other addiction — is a brute, a bitch, and being free from it altogether is a dream for most, a reality for very few — but that’s ok, cause we are, after all, just human.

And that’s the way it is, for me anyway…

Blessings to you all…thank you so much for your support….

NELSON….