Day 1:
I've hidden my remaining weed at the bottom of one of the shoes I never wear, out of sight and mind. I'd throw it away but a friend gave it to me and I don't want to be ungrateful. I'll find someone who'll want it. I've installed a website filter on my computer to block porn sites, just in case I get tempted. I've still got a few nice beer bottles in my room that are too expensive to pour away, but I'm not too worried about those. I've got lots of alarms set on my phone.
I've showered, shopped for a nice breakfast, made coffee, put clothes on to wash. I've read some J.G. Ballard I picked up in a charity shop. Edited some photos. Hung washing out. Then I had to have a lie down because I was exhausted. No stress.
I've taken pictures of the sunset. Done some beginner yoga, which filled me with rage that I couldn't contort myself into the positions illustrated, that my joints were weird, that nothing is ever quite what I want it to be. But I carried on, and stretching parts of me that have not stretched in many years felt good.
How do I feel now? Bleak, in honesty. Like everything good is very far off. I feel lost and scared. Without comfort blankets of drink and drugs I'm open to all this darkness that I don't know how to deal with. Dripping visceral despair. Wretched clammy horror. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I'm going to buy an easy tea and watch a nice film now. Bye.
Day 2:
I've had a headache all day. Feel fucked. Fatigued. Couldn't sleep last night. Brain was going mental. But I got up early today and showered and then spent the day with Fran. I annoyed her when she arrived by being arrogant and superior, as usual, and we almost had a fight, but I was able to communicate how much I'm struggling -- I actually almost cried, which I've not felt able to do in a long time -- and we were close again after that.
She helped me work on some stuff, I cooked us both a pasta bake, cleaned the kitchen, washed up. This is sobriety: feeding you and the ones you love, and tidying up. This has to be enough.
It's 21:15 now. Fran has gone home. I'm beat. My mind feels wound too tight, ready to snap. Early night tonight.
Day 3:
I've suddenly got so much free time. Without lounging in bed or watching Youtube or smoking weed I suddenly have all these hours that need filling. Been reading about filmmaking this morning -- went to see the new Avengers a few days ago and got interested in what the story was behind Joss Whedon stepping aside after the first two and the Russo brothers taking the reigns. Apparently the experience just exhausted him, and he fought with Marvel a lot. A pity, because that first Avengers film was the best structured, I think, of any Marvel flick. He's got a great instinct for story. His stories don't say much that is original, unexpected, but they are very well put together.
Anyway, how am I doing? I'm a bit anxious. A bit lost. I need to go out and get some fresh air and exercise before work. Go now. Do it. Eeeeeeesh!
... Home from work now. I coped. I've had lots of rage coursing through me, popping out at the tiniest setbacks. Fumbled my beard oil bottle earlier and trying to catch it knocked both it and my deodorant into the sink. Almost tore the shelf off the wall and threw it out of the window. Dropping pasta onto the hob when serving last night I suddenly could have flung the pan at the wall. Feel like I've got all this pent up energy, pops, niggles, running through my body, needing to get out. Horrible.
And this headache is still there.
But I feel I have a purpose for the first time in a long time. Don't feel at war with myself in the same way. Don't feel like I'm running away.
And I did writing today. Lots of writing. That felt good.
Day 4:
More writing today. Feel tired and low now. The writing isn't right. Ooosh. Go gently. Be mindful of that feeling -- I'm picturing everyone I admire reading my writing and cringing. That's OK. Good to bring that feeling to awareness. Let it come. Let it be. Let it go.
When you don't let creativity out for a long time it builds, and then it explodes out awkwardly. That's OK. Worst thing to do is see that as evidence you should never let out creativity. Let people cringe, if they will. Let the fuckers cringe. Do you want to be a mouse never making a noise never upsetting anyone never nudging a bowl to reach for what you want? Or do you want to let your heart sing?
Don't read the comments. Don't look at the likes. Do a post and go buy some chocolate and then write a bit of the next post and then go to sleep. There is only the work. Do it. Do it. Do it.
Anyway, apart from the writing I've felt fine today. Went for a walk to a charity shop, bought two shirts, edited a photo, made tea. Mike came round and we played co-op games on the PS4 and drank cups of tea and chatted. It was nice. You can have a nice time without getting drunk.
Sleep now. Go easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment