The last few days since mum left have been really good. I've felt more useful at work, the stress of the current project is beginning to recede and I've been eating better and sleeping well.
This evening, a Friday, I left work in a state. Anxious, slightly annoyed ... impotent at feelings I can't fully resolve. In that state I fully intended to go home and get fucked up but surprisingly was able to talk myself out of it, to a lesser drug and then - after getting some groceries - decided I didn't want to take anything at all. This is the struggle I have faced almost ever Friday for a long time now and this evening was the first time I can remember that things didn't turn out the way I expected.
Walking out of the city I told myself, "anything can be a trigger if I want an excuse to get wasted". Instead of looking for excuses to do something, I found that by just doing what I needed to do, I came to the natural conclusion that I would be better off just going without.
This is actually a pretty monumental step for me and I shouldn't dismiss it's relevance in the grand scheme of things.
Taking a step back and looking at the big picture is always depressing.
It means acknowledging the collosal amount of damage I have been able to wreak in under two years out of control and in surveying that landscape, it's hard to face how much ground I have lost, and how hard I will need to work to "repair" my life.
This isn't just a case of taking a few steps back, it's more akin to free falling and hitting every branch and jutting rock on the way down. In terms of material standing, not to even begin speaking of other more important things, it will take me at least two years to claw my way back to where I was before all the troubles started.
The other, less visible, but even deeper scars I will bear for decades if not the rest of my life. Just in writing this entry I can see the folly that I have undertaken so many times before of seeing an "end" to these problems when it will always be an ongoing battle.
I doubt that every Friday night I will find it as easy to pacify the voices of recklessness that lurk ever-present; calling me to the endless comfort of the night, into the arms of a city that never sleeps. And even if I do, there are always other ways I will find to threaten this peace.
But for tonight, just this night... I ate Japanese, I watched daggy TV shows in my trackies and I sure as hell am not getting laid. It's hard to explain why this is a step forward, a tiny slither of hope when so many others would see it as a sign of failure.
I apologise for the lack of tuna elaboration at this point, blog writing is still new to me.
This evening, a Friday, I left work in a state. Anxious, slightly annoyed ... impotent at feelings I can't fully resolve. In that state I fully intended to go home and get fucked up but surprisingly was able to talk myself out of it, to a lesser drug and then - after getting some groceries - decided I didn't want to take anything at all. This is the struggle I have faced almost ever Friday for a long time now and this evening was the first time I can remember that things didn't turn out the way I expected.
Walking out of the city I told myself, "anything can be a trigger if I want an excuse to get wasted". Instead of looking for excuses to do something, I found that by just doing what I needed to do, I came to the natural conclusion that I would be better off just going without.
This is actually a pretty monumental step for me and I shouldn't dismiss it's relevance in the grand scheme of things.
Taking a step back and looking at the big picture is always depressing.
It means acknowledging the collosal amount of damage I have been able to wreak in under two years out of control and in surveying that landscape, it's hard to face how much ground I have lost, and how hard I will need to work to "repair" my life.
This isn't just a case of taking a few steps back, it's more akin to free falling and hitting every branch and jutting rock on the way down. In terms of material standing, not to even begin speaking of other more important things, it will take me at least two years to claw my way back to where I was before all the troubles started.
The other, less visible, but even deeper scars I will bear for decades if not the rest of my life. Just in writing this entry I can see the folly that I have undertaken so many times before of seeing an "end" to these problems when it will always be an ongoing battle.
I doubt that every Friday night I will find it as easy to pacify the voices of recklessness that lurk ever-present; calling me to the endless comfort of the night, into the arms of a city that never sleeps. And even if I do, there are always other ways I will find to threaten this peace.
But for tonight, just this night... I ate Japanese, I watched daggy TV shows in my trackies and I sure as hell am not getting laid. It's hard to explain why this is a step forward, a tiny slither of hope when so many others would see it as a sign of failure.
I apologise for the lack of tuna elaboration at this point, blog writing is still new to me.
