When I went to my 1st AA meeting, it was from a place of despair. Finally, I had been forced to look at my drinking and accept that this was not reasonable behaviour. That my lack of consideration of the consequences and complete disregard for the lives of those around me was not what I wanted for my future. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for and what would become of me, all I knew was that I couldn't carry on. Because of AA I have found that I can become a better human being, that I can change from everything that I thought I was, that deep within me is somebody worth loving and capable of loving others. I know this, because other people have shown me how, other people have shared their lives with me so that I can find mine. Five years ago I had my last alcoholic drink and let the hands of AA take mine and lead me forward. Today I have peace, serenity and hope in my life. I have found that life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain.
I will be forever grateful to all of you who have been,and continue to be, part of my journey. May God bless you and keep you safe, with all my love, xxx
Thursday, 17 April 2014
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
Week 19
Exercise 10 Write the CV of your main character or one of them, usual stuff, name, date of birth etc.....
Amazing how attached I have become to these people in my head and almost don't want to let them out. There's feelings of possession, ownership, secrecy, exclusivity, nothing positive it has to be said. Oh well, better out than in so they say, let's see how specific I can be......
Her name is Frankie (Francesca Allen) she works in a bookshop in Bristol, early 20s, graduated with a degree in English Literature, wants to be a writer, doesn't like giving away her birthday. Parents living in London, Dad a dentist, Mother a nurse. Frankie dreams of a life in the country with views of the sea, a desk at a window, her books on the shelf. She loves to feel the sand between her toes, the wind in her hair and the sound of the sea. She quite likes the idea of falling in love and finding her soulmate and yet she relishes isolation, solitude, her own company. Not that keen on marriage, she doesn't see herself as mother material. She attends the occasional aerobic class but doesn't really enjoy it and isn't much into competitive sports. Her ideal evening is a good meal, quiet drink and dancing to a decent band at a small club she goes to.
His name is Mac (James MacDonald), just graduated from vet school in Cardiff, also early 20s and if she's not giving her birthday then neither is he. Parents living just outside Edinburgh and yes, definitely a Scot. Dad a university lecturer, Mum a GP. Mac has always been considered very bright and, although he would say he was lucky, enjoys hard work and does well in exams. Originally, he was undecided between veterinary science and medicine but, with a desire to do his own thing rather than follow the family route of many doctors, vet school won out. While he works hard, he also plays hard, both in a sporting and musical capacity. In the university rugby team from day one and forming a band with course mates, he's never been short of a social life. He doesn't really think about the future but takes things as they come, a day at a time.
Not quite a CV but definitely building up a picture, maybe I'll evolve into favourite ice cream flavours, tea or coffee, last film, first single. Maybe, I'll provide answers for all requests.....
Amazing how attached I have become to these people in my head and almost don't want to let them out. There's feelings of possession, ownership, secrecy, exclusivity, nothing positive it has to be said. Oh well, better out than in so they say, let's see how specific I can be......
Her name is Frankie (Francesca Allen) she works in a bookshop in Bristol, early 20s, graduated with a degree in English Literature, wants to be a writer, doesn't like giving away her birthday. Parents living in London, Dad a dentist, Mother a nurse. Frankie dreams of a life in the country with views of the sea, a desk at a window, her books on the shelf. She loves to feel the sand between her toes, the wind in her hair and the sound of the sea. She quite likes the idea of falling in love and finding her soulmate and yet she relishes isolation, solitude, her own company. Not that keen on marriage, she doesn't see herself as mother material. She attends the occasional aerobic class but doesn't really enjoy it and isn't much into competitive sports. Her ideal evening is a good meal, quiet drink and dancing to a decent band at a small club she goes to.
His name is Mac (James MacDonald), just graduated from vet school in Cardiff, also early 20s and if she's not giving her birthday then neither is he. Parents living just outside Edinburgh and yes, definitely a Scot. Dad a university lecturer, Mum a GP. Mac has always been considered very bright and, although he would say he was lucky, enjoys hard work and does well in exams. Originally, he was undecided between veterinary science and medicine but, with a desire to do his own thing rather than follow the family route of many doctors, vet school won out. While he works hard, he also plays hard, both in a sporting and musical capacity. In the university rugby team from day one and forming a band with course mates, he's never been short of a social life. He doesn't really think about the future but takes things as they come, a day at a time.
Not quite a CV but definitely building up a picture, maybe I'll evolve into favourite ice cream flavours, tea or coffee, last film, first single. Maybe, I'll provide answers for all requests.....
Saturday, 12 April 2014
Week 18
It was really satisfying getting to a good place with the outline of my novel. The chapter this week suggested building up on this and taking it further, not necessarily including it in the summary but helping it take form. It's quite challenging for me to write it down as its been whistling around in my head for so long, five years to be precise. I wrote the basis of the first chapter nine years ago as a short story not knowing that there was more of it to come. Intriguingly, about a woman who, on realising what her life had become, decided that she had to stop drinking. It seems that I wasn't ready at the time to see the mirror and look at my own life but, fortunately, five years later I took those steps and the rest of the story appeared. It was quite a shock at first, I'd not expected there to be anymore, I certainly hadn't expected to be writing a fictional story of recovery. Looking back now, it's a bit like my own, I spent a while denying that I needed to work the programme and that, as long as I went to meetings and was honest, it would be enough. I learnt, like many, that the programme is there for a reason and when people say 'AA works if you work it' then that's actually the case. On finding a sponsor and getting on with the 12 steps it definitely became a lot easier and was frustrating, although completely logical, that I hadn't done that from the beginning. Likewise with my story, I looked to many places for the outline of the next day and the path for her life to get back on track until I realised that it would be an alignment to the 12 steps. Not a specific alignment but following the same structure on an approximate hour by hour basis. The idea of a day where a life can be transformed feels really exciting and I so hope it works as a story. I suppose we will see..........
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
Week 17
Exercise 9 - Finish the following 'my novel is about......
.........a woman who, on catching sight of her reflection in a mirror one evening, sees what she has become since her husband left and realises that she can't go on like this. The novel follows her through the next day as she comes to terms with the changes she needs to make and meets the people who will help her. A second story intertwines as the novel takes the reader back to the day she first met her husband and tells the story of their life together up to the day that he left. The two stories come together as she starts to talk to her son about his father and shares with him how their life together is going to get better.
This was really difficult to put together, how much to share that gives some of the plot but not all of it. How much to describe and how much to keep behind. I'll be eternally grateful to the friend who suggested keeping one part of the story to the end and I will be doing my best not to give that away during this blog. I am not brilliant at keeping secrets so this will be a very good test for me!
.........a woman who, on catching sight of her reflection in a mirror one evening, sees what she has become since her husband left and realises that she can't go on like this. The novel follows her through the next day as she comes to terms with the changes she needs to make and meets the people who will help her. A second story intertwines as the novel takes the reader back to the day she first met her husband and tells the story of their life together up to the day that he left. The two stories come together as she starts to talk to her son about his father and shares with him how their life together is going to get better.
This was really difficult to put together, how much to share that gives some of the plot but not all of it. How much to describe and how much to keep behind. I'll be eternally grateful to the friend who suggested keeping one part of the story to the end and I will be doing my best not to give that away during this blog. I am not brilliant at keeping secrets so this will be a very good test for me!
Monday, 31 March 2014
Week 16
Since enthusing about my trusty motorcar, it hasn't been very well. Four RAC rescues, two garage visits, five alternator belts, a new alternator and a new water pump and as I am sat writing this, waiting for RAC visit no. five. Not quite sure what all that says about the symbol of my recovery. There again, you can read too much into these things, or can you?
I enjoyed writing last week. I'd done a couple of shares and felt reinvigorated by the shares I'd had back in return. AA can be such an inspiring place to be. Listening to people sharing their stuff with strangers; the stories of their darkest days followed by the reality of sobriety. I never tire of hearing the miracles that have been created in sobriety, the loving human beings that have been formed from the monsters that we used to be. The love and laughter, tears and sadness that bring us together creating connections and memories that will last for eternity. The first share that I heard, the first share I was ready to connect to, the people who took me under their wing, gave me their time, supported me, listened but, most importantly of all, told me their story in an attempt to help me get, and then stay, sober. The simple messages that come with the very first pioneers, that this programme only works if you work it. Life can only give out what you put into it. I can only become a writer if I write. Yes, it sounds obvious. Yes, it is simple and straightforward and so on and so forth. But I am fearful. Fearful not only of writing a load of tosh but also fearful of becoming good at it (there was a quite good there but I forced myself to delete it). That is what keeps me from these pages, that is what stops me from taking action. Fear, pure and simple. It can grind me to a standstill and, simultaneously, have me running to the hills. And yes, I can do both of those things at the same time, I am only in recovery. I only have today. But, for this day I have taken action and I have written. Because I really want to write. I know that I may not overcome that fear but I may develop the courage to live with it and that really would be progress.
I enjoyed writing last week. I'd done a couple of shares and felt reinvigorated by the shares I'd had back in return. AA can be such an inspiring place to be. Listening to people sharing their stuff with strangers; the stories of their darkest days followed by the reality of sobriety. I never tire of hearing the miracles that have been created in sobriety, the loving human beings that have been formed from the monsters that we used to be. The love and laughter, tears and sadness that bring us together creating connections and memories that will last for eternity. The first share that I heard, the first share I was ready to connect to, the people who took me under their wing, gave me their time, supported me, listened but, most importantly of all, told me their story in an attempt to help me get, and then stay, sober. The simple messages that come with the very first pioneers, that this programme only works if you work it. Life can only give out what you put into it. I can only become a writer if I write. Yes, it sounds obvious. Yes, it is simple and straightforward and so on and so forth. But I am fearful. Fearful not only of writing a load of tosh but also fearful of becoming good at it (there was a quite good there but I forced myself to delete it). That is what keeps me from these pages, that is what stops me from taking action. Fear, pure and simple. It can grind me to a standstill and, simultaneously, have me running to the hills. And yes, I can do both of those things at the same time, I am only in recovery. I only have today. But, for this day I have taken action and I have written. Because I really want to write. I know that I may not overcome that fear but I may develop the courage to live with it and that really would be progress.
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Week 15
Exercise 8 - write a paragraph from the point of view of an inanimate object.
See if you can guess what it is :)
She looks at me again. I see her face, empty and sad. Her eyes glance over me, briskly and sparingly. I wonder what it is that stops her from looking at me properly; what it is that she doesn't want to see. She has amazing blue eyes. Sometimes they are the colour of the deepest ocean, sometimes the brightest summer sky and sometimes the darkest rain clouds. I can see so much of her in her eyes and yet she refuses to look into them, as if she's scared of what she might see. I wish she would try. If she tried, I could show her everything that she's been looking for. I want to show her, I want her to see. I want her to know that her soul is waiting for her, that it is safe to look at. She has a beautiful soul but it needs to be seen, to be seen by her so that she can share it. An unseen soul cannot find its way out into the world. I must wait; wait patiently for the day when she will come to me and she will look.
See if you can guess what it is :)
She looks at me again. I see her face, empty and sad. Her eyes glance over me, briskly and sparingly. I wonder what it is that stops her from looking at me properly; what it is that she doesn't want to see. She has amazing blue eyes. Sometimes they are the colour of the deepest ocean, sometimes the brightest summer sky and sometimes the darkest rain clouds. I can see so much of her in her eyes and yet she refuses to look into them, as if she's scared of what she might see. I wish she would try. If she tried, I could show her everything that she's been looking for. I want to show her, I want her to see. I want her to know that her soul is waiting for her, that it is safe to look at. She has a beautiful soul but it needs to be seen, to be seen by her so that she can share it. An unseen soul cannot find its way out into the world. I must wait; wait patiently for the day when she will come to me and she will look.
Friday, 28 February 2014
Week 14
Don't you find that some weeks last longer than others? My time with my counsellor is coming to an end and has become a review of time travelled and the journey made. She asked me to find something in my home that could be a symbol of recovery for me as part of building a toolkit (my words) for the future. This was difficult to tie down as I've made quite a few connections during the past months.
A significant one of these was a white flying horse or should that be a flying white horse, can't decide. During one particular session with her, I found myself standing in a cave watching my family playing outside in a meadow in the sunshine. It was really bright and they were running around with each other, laughing madly, but no matter how much I wanted to join in I couldn't leave my cave. Yes it was dark and cold and damp but I was filled with fear of ruining their fun so I stayed behind watching. Gradually I became aware of a white horse standing beside me and a rope in my hand. I was holding onto the rope so tightly that my hand was red raw and the skin stuck to the rope. Being in the cave reminded me of my early days in recovery when I had imagined myself in a dark room with no doors or windows and while I couldn't see anything at all I was in a very comfortable armchair and felt very safe. Over time I moved from the room to a tunnel and though I couldn't see the light at the end of it, I could see the way to take by the torches held out for me by my friends in AA and found myself taking a journey of hope. This cave felt like the end of that tunnel and with sight of the light a realisation that it could be time to step out into it. Further reflection and discussion led to an awareness of my horse having wings and that we were one and the same. Throughout my counselling many of my descriptions of where I am, and have been, have resulted in descriptions connected to horses such as being saddled to a horse, racing on a blinkered horse, unable to stop a running horse. The connections have also been positive such as flying free, running free, and the feeling of being unleashed and allowed to roam. It became apparent that I have a habit of being so focused on an end result that I don't have any awareness of what happened in between and we developed a theme whereby I would ask myself what would happen if I stopped to eat the grass.
When I first came into recovery I was very aware of the need to take everything moment by moment, in contrast to projecting into the future and ruing the past. While my only focus was stopping drinking this was quite simple, to do what was in front of me, to live in this moment only, to let go of my worries and fears of that which could not be dealt with. As time has moved on, and living in this world as it is, it has become more difficult and I hadn't realised how I had lost this gift. I had returned to the racehorse, either stressing out in the stalls worrying about what lay ahead or collapsed at the end, knackered by what had been. The race itself had passed me by and I wouldn't have been able to tell you whether there was any grass never mind what it tasted like. I know how much effort it had taken to slow down, to change my thinking patterns, to hand it over to my Higher Power and to let it go. It wasn’t always easy, I spent a lot of time in meetings cleaning out my fingernails and making sure that I wasn't hanging onto the tiny threads of whatever it was I was attempting to hand over, attempting to keep control of it, to force myself to fail and keep all the misery that comes with that failure. My second recovery journey has been so much harder as my disease has taken hold again and whilst I didn't drink, my head, my thinking was lost. During the week, I have been scouring the house looking for this symbol, no flying white horses in sight, when on the last morning I saw my car parked outside. I am a very lucky girl when it comes to my car. It was an incident with a car that forced me to look at my drinking and during my first year in sobriety I had to buy myself a new car. 'Had' might be a bit strong, we had a family car but if I was to get to work independently, get to meetings regularly and to keep us both sane then another car was key to that. Given that every single other decision I had ever made prior to this point was as the old me, this was big time. It was also a lonely one.
I isolated from my family in my first year of recovery, struggling to understand what was going on, determined to work out the answer on my own. The consequences of recovery on a family are not straightforward; many families already feel isolated from the alcoholic, angry with them for the years of misery and very unwilling to be part of the change. Let’s face it, it is a big change and in more ways than anyone can know or anticipate. Buying a new car became symbolic of many things, and I don’t remember being conscious of any of them, I just did it. I partly did the right thing of working out what I felt the budget should be (note the use of the word ‘felt’ rather than ‘calculate’) and started to search for likely contenders. I also had an idea of how old I ‘felt’ it should be and what age. How I came up with the criteria I don’t know, probably another reason why I did it on my own, following my feelings rather than using any facts! As part of my research into the 2nd hand car market I found myself repeatedly coming back to the MX5. Whilst some, including my husband (hereafter known as J), might not have seen this two-seater sports car in the family bracket, I became more and more convinced that this was the answer. The logical argument used at the time was based on value for money, reliability, that we already had a family car and wouldn’t necessarily need another one with four seats. In my usual way, I started to pitch the idea to anyone that would listen, not really gaining any support from anyone and annoying J with the airing of what he believed would never happen. Eventually I realised that I had gone off on my own and asked my Higher Power for guidance on whether this was a ridiculous notion or an appropriate one. Yes, it did feel slightly bonkers, so much going on in the world and there I was, praying for help with buying a car. However praying for help was part of what was suggested to me and what I came to understand as the solution; through a slow realisation that my life was governed by self-will run riot, that selfish and self-centred were my middle names and that I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t change. The change suggested is to find a higher power and eventually, after trying not to follow any suggestions, I did indeed look for and find my HP. This is why I now pray, quite a shift for a committed atheist, and probably covered in more detail later on. (Stepping back a moment, I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get to the point, sometimes more background is needed than one might have been expecting.)
Praying for guidance, indeed anything, has become a core part of my life and yet one that I can easily forget as well. Many aspects of the life of a recovering addict can appear contradictory, although to be honest this provides an insight into our world and the life that goes on inside our heads. I asked for a sign to help me know if I was doing the right thing by my family or if I was being selfish and self-centred. The next day J told me of a car he’d seen for sale at the gym, clearly labelled with price, mileage and age at an exact match to my search. Only difference was in terms of colour, this was red and I wanted dark grey or blue. Coincidentally (loving these), an interest-free credit offer arrived in the post. Some of the most amazing coincidences have happened to me in my sobriety, some of which have also seemed amazing to other people and while this one might have been slight, I took it as a definite seal of approval and embarked upon the purchasing of said vehicle. (Finally, I get to tell you why it is a symbol of my recovery and I get to build my toolkit. I’m tempted to say the rest of the story is in the next post but given the patience of those of you who have gently asked for this one, I shall make it a complete story.)
My time with my car added to my life. It was a joy to drive; hugging the road even at slow speeds. Driving with the roof down and my hair flying allowed me to really connect with the world around me and even with the roof up and the rain beating down I could feel that. The children loved it and it provided some great one-on-one bonding even on trips to the supermarket. I began to appreciate my time on the way to and from meetings, listening to my music and understanding the purpose of the journey and not just the destination. It reminded me of a bright red beating heart, smaller than many of the cars around it, beaming loudly in its own special way. Slowly this car began to remind me of me in a ‘this is who you are and could be’ way. It was full of love; small and compact; great to be with; enjoying life; could let its roof (hair) down; made people smile, the list went on. I had the reminder of what recovery could bring to me every day and yet I had chosen to put the roof up, not look after it, and shut my eyes and ears to that journey. Coming back to recovery is not something I want to repeat, I really want to stick with it this time, to keep myself on track and to do whatever it takes to stay sober. This is not an optional disease, it does not go away, I do not get better. I need to be very clear that not only do I know what my toolkit is but that I have it with me and remember to use it. The programme gives me all of that but I have to stick with it and make sure that it remains current and honest. I need to look after myself, to understand my maintenance regime and put the necessary structures in place to keep me safe. Why? Because I’m worth it.
A significant one of these was a white flying horse or should that be a flying white horse, can't decide. During one particular session with her, I found myself standing in a cave watching my family playing outside in a meadow in the sunshine. It was really bright and they were running around with each other, laughing madly, but no matter how much I wanted to join in I couldn't leave my cave. Yes it was dark and cold and damp but I was filled with fear of ruining their fun so I stayed behind watching. Gradually I became aware of a white horse standing beside me and a rope in my hand. I was holding onto the rope so tightly that my hand was red raw and the skin stuck to the rope. Being in the cave reminded me of my early days in recovery when I had imagined myself in a dark room with no doors or windows and while I couldn't see anything at all I was in a very comfortable armchair and felt very safe. Over time I moved from the room to a tunnel and though I couldn't see the light at the end of it, I could see the way to take by the torches held out for me by my friends in AA and found myself taking a journey of hope. This cave felt like the end of that tunnel and with sight of the light a realisation that it could be time to step out into it. Further reflection and discussion led to an awareness of my horse having wings and that we were one and the same. Throughout my counselling many of my descriptions of where I am, and have been, have resulted in descriptions connected to horses such as being saddled to a horse, racing on a blinkered horse, unable to stop a running horse. The connections have also been positive such as flying free, running free, and the feeling of being unleashed and allowed to roam. It became apparent that I have a habit of being so focused on an end result that I don't have any awareness of what happened in between and we developed a theme whereby I would ask myself what would happen if I stopped to eat the grass.
When I first came into recovery I was very aware of the need to take everything moment by moment, in contrast to projecting into the future and ruing the past. While my only focus was stopping drinking this was quite simple, to do what was in front of me, to live in this moment only, to let go of my worries and fears of that which could not be dealt with. As time has moved on, and living in this world as it is, it has become more difficult and I hadn't realised how I had lost this gift. I had returned to the racehorse, either stressing out in the stalls worrying about what lay ahead or collapsed at the end, knackered by what had been. The race itself had passed me by and I wouldn't have been able to tell you whether there was any grass never mind what it tasted like. I know how much effort it had taken to slow down, to change my thinking patterns, to hand it over to my Higher Power and to let it go. It wasn’t always easy, I spent a lot of time in meetings cleaning out my fingernails and making sure that I wasn't hanging onto the tiny threads of whatever it was I was attempting to hand over, attempting to keep control of it, to force myself to fail and keep all the misery that comes with that failure. My second recovery journey has been so much harder as my disease has taken hold again and whilst I didn't drink, my head, my thinking was lost. During the week, I have been scouring the house looking for this symbol, no flying white horses in sight, when on the last morning I saw my car parked outside. I am a very lucky girl when it comes to my car. It was an incident with a car that forced me to look at my drinking and during my first year in sobriety I had to buy myself a new car. 'Had' might be a bit strong, we had a family car but if I was to get to work independently, get to meetings regularly and to keep us both sane then another car was key to that. Given that every single other decision I had ever made prior to this point was as the old me, this was big time. It was also a lonely one.
I isolated from my family in my first year of recovery, struggling to understand what was going on, determined to work out the answer on my own. The consequences of recovery on a family are not straightforward; many families already feel isolated from the alcoholic, angry with them for the years of misery and very unwilling to be part of the change. Let’s face it, it is a big change and in more ways than anyone can know or anticipate. Buying a new car became symbolic of many things, and I don’t remember being conscious of any of them, I just did it. I partly did the right thing of working out what I felt the budget should be (note the use of the word ‘felt’ rather than ‘calculate’) and started to search for likely contenders. I also had an idea of how old I ‘felt’ it should be and what age. How I came up with the criteria I don’t know, probably another reason why I did it on my own, following my feelings rather than using any facts! As part of my research into the 2nd hand car market I found myself repeatedly coming back to the MX5. Whilst some, including my husband (hereafter known as J), might not have seen this two-seater sports car in the family bracket, I became more and more convinced that this was the answer. The logical argument used at the time was based on value for money, reliability, that we already had a family car and wouldn’t necessarily need another one with four seats. In my usual way, I started to pitch the idea to anyone that would listen, not really gaining any support from anyone and annoying J with the airing of what he believed would never happen. Eventually I realised that I had gone off on my own and asked my Higher Power for guidance on whether this was a ridiculous notion or an appropriate one. Yes, it did feel slightly bonkers, so much going on in the world and there I was, praying for help with buying a car. However praying for help was part of what was suggested to me and what I came to understand as the solution; through a slow realisation that my life was governed by self-will run riot, that selfish and self-centred were my middle names and that I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t change. The change suggested is to find a higher power and eventually, after trying not to follow any suggestions, I did indeed look for and find my HP. This is why I now pray, quite a shift for a committed atheist, and probably covered in more detail later on. (Stepping back a moment, I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get to the point, sometimes more background is needed than one might have been expecting.)
Praying for guidance, indeed anything, has become a core part of my life and yet one that I can easily forget as well. Many aspects of the life of a recovering addict can appear contradictory, although to be honest this provides an insight into our world and the life that goes on inside our heads. I asked for a sign to help me know if I was doing the right thing by my family or if I was being selfish and self-centred. The next day J told me of a car he’d seen for sale at the gym, clearly labelled with price, mileage and age at an exact match to my search. Only difference was in terms of colour, this was red and I wanted dark grey or blue. Coincidentally (loving these), an interest-free credit offer arrived in the post. Some of the most amazing coincidences have happened to me in my sobriety, some of which have also seemed amazing to other people and while this one might have been slight, I took it as a definite seal of approval and embarked upon the purchasing of said vehicle. (Finally, I get to tell you why it is a symbol of my recovery and I get to build my toolkit. I’m tempted to say the rest of the story is in the next post but given the patience of those of you who have gently asked for this one, I shall make it a complete story.)
My time with my car added to my life. It was a joy to drive; hugging the road even at slow speeds. Driving with the roof down and my hair flying allowed me to really connect with the world around me and even with the roof up and the rain beating down I could feel that. The children loved it and it provided some great one-on-one bonding even on trips to the supermarket. I began to appreciate my time on the way to and from meetings, listening to my music and understanding the purpose of the journey and not just the destination. It reminded me of a bright red beating heart, smaller than many of the cars around it, beaming loudly in its own special way. Slowly this car began to remind me of me in a ‘this is who you are and could be’ way. It was full of love; small and compact; great to be with; enjoying life; could let its roof (hair) down; made people smile, the list went on. I had the reminder of what recovery could bring to me every day and yet I had chosen to put the roof up, not look after it, and shut my eyes and ears to that journey. Coming back to recovery is not something I want to repeat, I really want to stick with it this time, to keep myself on track and to do whatever it takes to stay sober. This is not an optional disease, it does not go away, I do not get better. I need to be very clear that not only do I know what my toolkit is but that I have it with me and remember to use it. The programme gives me all of that but I have to stick with it and make sure that it remains current and honest. I need to look after myself, to understand my maintenance regime and put the necessary structures in place to keep me safe. Why? Because I’m worth it.
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