5 months, 14 days

I won’t say much tonight, as I have to be up early in the morning for my flight to Edinburgh. I think I’m back to normal today, in terms of my feelings. I attended a lovely meeting this evening which I’d not been to in a while, and there weren’t many people there; so it felt quite cosy, like quiet meetings often do, and I was able to share comfortably about the anxiety I had experienced in the week. Afterwards a couple of us went for coffee, and I had a good time, chatting one-to-one with someone who I don’t normally socialise with.

 On my way home I felt the positivity of the programme, for the first time since Tuesday. Once again I really believed that everything was all right; I still believe that right now. My life is better right now than it ever was. I have friends inside and outside the fellowship, I can socialise without alcohol, I can feel comfortable coming home at reasonably early times, and I can go on holiday to Edinburgh. A few short years ago I dreamed of living this life, where I had friends who wanted to go on holiday with me.

 We’re flying from Heathrow in the morning. As a child I once visited Heathrow with an aunt for the day, just to see the planes taking off, and even then I didn’t believe I’d ever go on one of those planes. Tomorrow, I will be living my dream. The fellowship hasn’t made this holiday possible, it’s simply come about as the result of favourable circumstances and my decision to spend New Year away from London again. But thanks to the fellowship, this holiday will probably be a million times better than my last visit to Edinburgh. I’m not going to drink this weekend, I’m just going to go out and have lots of fun with my two closest friends in the world. I couldn’t ask for more. I’m very aware of the fact that this is a daily programme and tomorrow I may wake up feeling off again for some reason. I’m still in early recovery and there will always be days like yesterday when I’m not so happy. But that doesn’t matter tonight. All that matters is that I’m happy right now. We can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

P.S: I’m unlikely to have the opportunity to write anything whilst I’m in Edinburgh, so this will probably be my last blog entry until next Wednesday, when I’m back in London. I wish everyone a happy new year, and I look forward to regaling all my readers with tales of Hogmanay!

5 months, 13 days

I’m afraid to say that the negative feeling from yesterday has continued today. I don’t know why, I just haven’t felt engaged with life today. I went to a meeting this evening, my fifth this week, and didn’t want to be there as soon as I got there. Yesterday must have really had an impact on me, because right now I feel like I’m back to one month sober, struggling with the basic principles of the programme. And I know that it is the alcoholic in me that is seeing everything so negatively. I have things to be grateful for today, such as my sobriety and the fact that I managed to speak to a couple of people after the meeting tonight. But somehow it’s not enough.

 The good feeling that I had over the past couple of weeks has definitely gone. The negativity in my head is more tangible than ever; a lot of the time I still feel resentful and anxious and I’m so tired of it now. As I was walking to the meeting earlier I resented nearly every person who walked past me, just for daring to come near me. In the meeting I sat there not really interested in what anyone had to say. I desperately needed to share about the discomfort that I was feeling, but everyone else’s sharing was so positive, and I couldn’t open my mouth. I couldn’t bear to be the one to bring the mood down.

 I looked at all the people I knew, all the friends who evidently found it so easy to be with each other and have a good time. I wasn’t angry at them for appearing to be happier than me tonight, I was simply sad for what I was missing out on. There was a group of three friends who I hadn’t seen since before Christmas, and I couldn’t talk to them, even though they looked pleased to see me. I can’t escape this school mentality where I keep seeing them as the ‘cool’ clique in the classroom – they’re exactly like the people who scared me at school for years, the type of people I never believed I could be friends with.

 They’re all around the same age and time in recovery as me, and I should be one of them by now, I should be sitting with them in meetings and seeing them outside of meetings, because we have so much in common and I really like them. But I still went home after the meeting without sticking around to chat to them. Within half an hour of leaving I was home, well aware that at that very second they would most likely be enjoying coffee in Soho, as the group does every week.

 I haven’t been for coffee with the group for months, and I don’t know why. I only realised this tonight. I don’t know why I’ve suddenly become isolated in the programme. I’m going to meetings, and I’m speaking to loads of people, but I don’t think I’m really in it at the moment. I’ve never really been in the programme, I’ve always kind of hung around on the edge of things, as I have done all my bloody life.

 I know things will probably seem better tomorrow. Anxiety and resentment come and go; what seems important now may not seem significant next week. What frustrates me most is that this is such a long and slow process. Five and a half months may not seem like a long time to someone who has been sober for ten years, but to me, it is the longest I’ve ever been sober, and it’s the longest I’ve ever stuck around in a difficult situation. Believe me, AA is the most difficult situation I’ve ever been in in my life. Today, I’m not feeling the progress I’ve made these last few months; it doesn’t seem important to me because all I can see are the things that I haven’t been able to do. I can’t walk into rooms and approach people automatically yet; I can’t volunteer to do service after meetings yet; I can’t see myself ever giving a good chair or becoming someone who people actually look forward to seeing and hearing from. I have such a long way to go and it really bothers me that I can’t pick up the phone and say all of this to someone right now. My sponsor’s out of the country until next week, but even if he was here I wouldn’t say it to him.

5 months, 12 days (a.k.a. back to normality)

3pm: Yes, everything is pretty much back to normal today, with no more Christmas classics playing on the radio or showing on the TV. Thoughts about getting my holiday homework done have returned to haunt me, as I have a couple of assignments due in at University in a couple of weeks time, and I have no real excuse not to start now. I will get it started eventually, I just don’t know when. The desperate search for distractions and reasons to procrastinate has begun. I pray to be relieved of this anxiety soon.

 There’s really only one thing left to talk about this week: on Sunday I am flying to Edinburgh, where I will be celebrating the new year with a couple of friends. It will be just a holiday, a weekend away, but it’s important because it will be my first sober holiday. Three years ago I went to Edinburgh with my mother on holiday, and I practically drank through the whole weekend, meaning I don’t remember much about that weekend. This time I hope I’ll see and do a lot more in Edinburgh. I’m 99% excited about it. The only slight worry is that I won’t be able to cope with all the alcohol around me on New Year’s Eve. In the UK, the 31st of December is generally one big excuse for people to get as drunk as they possibly can. I may have made a mistake in deciding to spend the occasion far away from home, out in the open; I think it will be a lot of fun, though.

11pm: I will now write an honest account of what has happened today. Not that I was dishonest earlier, but I think that what I wrote this afternoon was perhaps slightly rushed. Until this evening it was not the best of days. Earlier on I had a minor online disagreement with somebody who I don’t even know. It was petty and trivial, so shouldn’t have mattered to me at all. But it did. For some reason I was hugely bothered by the disagreement, which sat with me all day. My feelings were hurt, and I could not stop a bitter resentment from developing. I realised almost straight away that an old pattern was repeating itself. The actual disagreement doesn’t matter: my reaction to it is the important thing. I chose to react in an alcoholic way today, as I spent hours wallowing in self pity, pride and arrogance. That’s right: I did have a choice in the matter, as I have always had a choice in how I feel about things.

 To begin with, realising this made me feel worse. I have spent six weeks writing out every single resentment that’s ever occurred in my life for my step 4, and today I finally finished it; to be feeling resentful as I reached the end of step 4 didn’t make me feel good about the work I had done. Step 4 was supposed to free me from resentment; how could I be so angry about something unimportant on the very day that I finish the step?

 Eventually I went through the theory behind step 4 and came to the conclusion that there would only be one way to undo my current resentment. I would have to go to a meeting and share about it. Knowing the character defects which drive the resentment is only one part of the healing process – sharing honestly about the problem is the real cure. So I attended my third meeting this week, and when I got there I immediately felt ill at ease. The Thursday night meeting is not normally busy, which is why I like it, but today it was full of people, some of whom I didn’t know, and I instinctually isolated myself at the back of the room before anyone could nab me.

 For most of the meeting I sat with my heart in my throat, dying to share but unable to because of the fear of what people would think of me. It’s been quite a while since I felt that uncomfortable in a meeting. I didn’t like not knowing everyone in the room this evening. Recently I’ve got used to knowing all the faces, and tonight found it unsettling to be around unknown entities. My five months in the fellowship haven’t been enough to convince me that no one in the rooms judges me, regardless of whether they know me or not. I still feel awkward around strangers, and that was tangible tonight.

 Finally, in the last fifteen minutes of the meeting I forced myself to speak, and I said pretty much everything, because I was convinced that it would help. Whilst my heart pounded and my illness told me to keep quiet, my higher power screamed at me to get everything out in the open, to release every last drop of bitterness and resentment into the room so that it would no longer lay heavy on my chest. When it was all out, I could breathe again, and my heart stopped pounding, as it always does when I’ve shared.

 After the meeting several people told me they had liked hearing me, and for the first time, I didn’t hesitate to believe them. Five months ago, I would have stood there thinking: ‘they’re not being sincere, they’re just making fun of me.’ Tonight that thought didn’t even come into my mind. So tonight I’ve discovered that a few of the fundamental beliefs which were holding me back in life have actually changed. I no longer believe that people who don’t know me automatically dislike me; nor do I believe that I have the option not to share any more. I need to share, because it makes me better. The more often I can do it, the better.

5 months, 10 days (a.k.a. the best Christmas ever)

My, it’s been a wonderful day! I’m full of festive cheer, and I’m close to tears now. Tears of happiness and joy. To say that I am grateful today doesn’t begin to cover this feeling inside me. Today I’ve done something I thought I would never do on Christmas Day: I’ve seen friends and made it to the end without any alcohol, all thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous. Though I could have spent the day at home with my mother, as I normally do, I wanted to go to a meeting today, because it is meetings that have saved me in sobriety.

 Early this morning I had no expectations about what a Christmas Day meeting would be like. I’d been told that it would be fun and friendly, but not too busy, and therefore probably not like normal AA meetings. This afternoon I met up with a very good friend in the fellowship, Edward, who drove me to one of the few all day meetings taking place in West London. It was pouring with rain, there was no public transport, therefore Edward’s car was a lifesaver to me today.

 We got to the meeting in relative comfort then, and were greeted by quite a crowd, none of whom I recognised but felt welcome amongst nonetheless. We sat down and for the next couple of hours simply listened to a lot of stories about alcoholism. This is not unusual for an AA meeting! However, there was a heartfelt and loving edge to all the sharing today, which isn’t there all the time. People seemed hopeful, and grateful, and very reflective. Being able to reflect on life with honesty is not a gift that comes to everyone; the miracle of AA is that it brings this gift to alcoholics who are seemingly hopeless.

 One sharer’s message was that it is never too early to start having fun in recovery. Sobriety should be fun, he said. I may do well to listen to him. Going out to have fun in sobriety is scary, because there is always the possibility of mistakes. I should know. But those mistakes don’t last forever. There’s always tomorrow; in sobriety we always have a shot at happiness. In drinking, we don’t stand a chance.

 After an hour or so a woman who was clearly drunk walked into the meeting clutching a bottle of wine to her chest. She sat a few seats away from me and put the wine on the seat next to her, on proud display. For ten minutes she laughed hysterically and spoke gibberish. It was sad and scary to watch. I’ve seen drunk people in meetings before; it doesn’t surprise me that it happened today. I guess it scares us to see that, because that is what we used to be like. Luckily she left the meeting before being forced to leave. I have no idea where she went or what she did with that bottle of wine. I’m just glad I’m not drinking it tonight. I would not swap my sobriety for anything right now.

 At 6pm I left the meeting as I was getting hungry and had Christmas dinner to look forward to at home. I’d spoken to a good friend outside the fellowship who would be passing through West London this evening on his way home from a relative’s: he agreed to meet me outside the meeting and take me home in his car. So once more I was saved a long walk in the cold rain. To have friends who are willing to drive me across London on Christmas Day is just wonderful. It’s amazing, isn’t it? This is the kind of Christmas I always dreamed of as a kid.

 No, I never dreamt of spending Christmas at an AA meeting, but for years I dreamt of being able to see friends on this day, and AA has brought that to me. This time last year, I had friends, but knew no one who I could spend some time with in the lonely festive period, because they were all too busy with their families. Living with my mum, I’m never alone at home, but it’s been years since we had the kind of relationship where we can sit in the same room together for long periods.

 So I always felt truly alone. When I was a kid, long before I knew of such things as fellowship and living a fulfilling life, I fantasized about having a group of friends who would be there for me on Christmas Day. In the last few years I’ve had friends who I saw quite a lot of, but they were never good enough friends to spend Christmas with. Today, for the first time, I’ve actually seen people; I’ve actually been wished a merry Christmas by more than one person. The best thing is that all those people who’ve sent me festive wishes today genuinely meant it. None of the friends who I saw today were fairweather friends, they were real.

 Another great thing is that I’ve been able to come home and not dread stepping through the door. I may not speak to my mum very much, but we get along, and she’s cooked us a lovely meal tonight. Right now I’m listening to my favourite music on the computer. Later I will watch some fantastic TV. Not too long ago, there was no computer, nor was there much that I enjoyed on the TV because we only had one set in the house, which my mum had general control of.

 Material things are unimportant, I know. I’m just mentioning them because tonight I’ve realised how great the things I have really are. I can be really miserable sometimes – when I have no reason to be. In the meeting earlier someone talked about their warm home, their TV, their nice food, their running water. Not everyone in the world has those basic things. What’s wrong with my life? Nothing. I have everything that I need right now. The AA programme didn’t bring all these things to me, because I had them already; it just made me grateful for my life, for the first time.

5 months, 8 days

Last night I made a mistake. After finishing yesterday’s blog, I tossed a coin because I just couldn’t decide what to do. I wanted to keep to my celibacy pact, to be good to myself and my sobriety, and at the same time I wanted to go and spend the evening with that guy, Joe, and be naughty with him. I decided it would be heads for Joe, tails for sobriety. The toss of the coin was quick, and it came up heads. I thought: this must be my higher power intervening. So I got my coat on and went over to South London, where Joe met me at a train station in his car. During much of the journey, I didn’t feel as excited as I perhaps could have felt. I was about to have my first hot night in over five months, but I just felt a bit dirty. I couldn’t feel happy with my decision to go out, because I’d let a coin decide for me. I’d only known this guy for two days, I was behaving like a slut and I knew it. Before heading to his place we had to go shopping for the evening’s dinner. He’d offered to cook for me, so we bought a few bits and bobs in a giant supermarket. Not much chat went on as we walked around the shop looking for nice herbs and spices. Joe seemed a bit stressed out, by what I don’t know, and this didn’t help me to feel confident in my decision. I wanted everything to be perfect, and because it wasn’t I quickly became terrified that the night would be a complete disaster.

 After shopping we drove over to Joe’s flat. While Joe cooked chicken and pasta for us I flicked through the channels on his TV. A little later at dinner not an awful lot of words were exchanged; the TV was a bit too distracting and we were both still a bit too nervous, I think. After dinner we sat together on the sofa in front of the TV, and there things started to get a bit steamy. At first everything was lovely, but soon I was freaked out by what was happening. My first encounter in five months should have been so much better, but I blew it. I just wanted it to stop, and I don’t know why. I was paralyzed and let it continue because of my people-pleasing instinct: I didn’t want to piss Joe off. I’ve pissed guys off before by being ‘frigid’.

 No one has the right to make me do anything I don’t want to do, yet I keep making myself do things that I don’t want to do. The fact I managed five months without sex is great, but those five months mean virtually nothing after last night, and I feel like I’ve had a slip – i.e. one of those slips that they talk about in AA, a relapse. Last night had very little to do with alcohol – there was no alcohol in the flat, and I certainly wouldn’t have touched it if there had been. Sadly, I’m beginning to realise that alcohol hasn’t been my only addiction in life. Perhaps there’s a bit of a sex addiction in there somewhere. There must be a reason why I couldn’t say ‘no’ last night, why I had to let a coin decide my whole evening for me rather than come to an adult decision by myself.

 It is a complicated and tangled mess in my head, this sex and relationship business. The sex bit is the bit I don’t like. But I keep going back for it because there’s hugging and kissing involved. I went to Joe’s place last night for the same reason that I went to all those guys’ places over the years: for a cuddle. I wanted to be loved. I thought I’d faced up to this a long time ago, but I can’t have because I made the same mistake again last night. I mistook something casual for something that could have been serious and meaningful.

 I felt disgusting last night and I never want to feel that way again. I’m not blaming anyone for me feeling that way, not Joe, or anyone I’ve known in the past. Like I said, I have no idea why I’m so screwed up about sex. I just am, and the responsible thing appears to be to stay away from it completely, until the underlying issue is properly dealt with. Celibacy was a good idea after all. The AA programme suggests one day at a time, so I’m going to do this, one day at a time.

5 months, 7 days

No update yesterday due to me being out until very late – I didn’t get home from a night out until 2 in the morning, the latest I have been out since entering recovery. I’d decided on the spur of the moment that I needed a night out, and met up with a friend in my local area to go to one of the clubs I used to really like, where they were having a special Christmas party night. It sounded like it was going to be fabulous. We got there reasonably early and the music was a blast from the beginning. Some of my favourite Christmas classics were mixed with modern pop tunes on the dancefloor, and I knew I’d made a good decision in coming out.

 We ended up dancing until 1.30, in the midst of camp Christmas decorations and a very pretty crowd. The music was so good, I could hardly bring myself to stop dancing. When we left, I realised that I’d probably just had the best night out ever. Not a drop of alcohol passed my lips last night; the thought barely even crossed my mind. As I came home, I was visibly excited, because I could literally feel the changes that sobriety had brought to my life. I was out with a very close friend last night, someone who I could trust not to go off without me. Some friends do that, sometimes, but he doesn’t. It’s nice to be with such a good friend – in my drinking days I had many bad nights out because I was with completely the wrong crowd. I didn’t pick my friends very well at the time.

 Another fantastic thing about last night is that I wasn’t anxious or expecting to have the best night out ever. I just went along hoping to have a reasonable time. To be rewarded with such an extravaganza was incredible. In the past I was always so full of expectations. I could never fully enjoy myself when I was drinking, because I always had to get to a certain point of drunkenness. If I couldn’t get drunk then I had to end up with the man of my dreams; if I couldn’t have that then I’d have to dance to the best music ever made. 9 times out of 10 neither of those things would happen, so I’d have to get extra drunk to make up for it, which ended up making me even more miserable.

 Last night I was reminded that I’m free of those expectations, because I have a choice now. I can choose to enjoy myself as much as I like, without the fear of hangovers and regrets in the morning. The change in my life and my beliefs was so tangible last night. I hadn’t felt it so powerfully before.

 Earlier in the day yesterday, I’m afraid to admit that I went on another date, this time with someone not in AA. We’d begun chatting earlier in the week online; I’ve recently signed up again to some of the social networking sites that used to take up a lot of my time. I’ve decided to go back to those websites because I think, though I’m not 100% sure, that I can handle them responsibly now. Anyway, yesterday afternoon I met up with this guy who I’d managed to have lots of intelligent conversation with and who I also thought was quite cute. We went for coffee in Soho followed by a nice dinner, chatting comfortably about our past love lives and our hopes for the future.

 Towards the end of the date, things got a tad steamy, as we held hands and cuddled up close whilst watching fab pop videos on the wall in one of the Soho bars. At 9pm I had to end things as I was due to go and meet my good friend on the other side of London for our planned night out. My date clearly didn’t want me to go, and I struggled with my conscience as I debated about whether to cancel my plans for him.

 Eventually I stuck to the plan as I knew that staying with this guy would have inevitably resulted in me going home with him – and that isn’t something I want to be doing at the moment. It’s funny because in AA they advise you not to enter serious relationships in your first year of sobriety, but casual meaningless sex is fine. Unfortunately for me, casual sex has never been my cup of tea. I just can’t do it. So when I meet up with guys like that, it’s because I actually like them as people, aside from fancying them physically. Sex on the first date has never been on my mind, though in the past alcohol always led to me jumping straight into bed with them anyway.

 These days, with alcohol out of the equation I have complete control of my behaviour, and I have vowed never again to sleep with anyone before I’ve got to know them. To sleep with someone I hardly know at the moment would be embarrassing and distressing; it would be an old behaviour repeating itself. So, my plan for this first year of sobriety was to remain celibate. I didn’t expect to start going on dates with guys, to start meeting people who make my pulse race. It’s a huge dilemma because from what I can tell, I really like this guy who took me out for dinner yesterday. If we were to keep seeing each other, take things slowly and wait before spending the night together, I would be going against AA’s advice in favour of my own personal wishes. If I were to sleep with him now and not see him again, I’d be acting sensibly in AA’s eyes, whilst letting my principles down terribly. What am I supposed to do?

 My sponsor may say that I should never have gone on the date in the first place; that way the dilemma would have been avoided. The reason I’ve agreed to go on dates at this early stage in my sobriety, regardless of what my sponsor may think, is that I know it would be the same if I waited a year before returning to the dating game. I don’t think it would matter how long I waited. It would still be difficult and painful; it could still pose a threat to my sobriety whether I’m five months or five years sober. I’m solid enough in my sobriety to know that I have every intention of not drinking for the rest of my life; dating disasters might break those intentions, but so might any number of difficult life events.

 Still, I have this dilemma because, unfortunately, I have a physical need that isn’t being met whilst I starve myself of sex. Yesterday’s date wants me to come over to his place later on; he says we don’t have to do anything except watch TV together, if that’s what I want to do. I’ve explained to him a little bit about what I’m going through at the moment, why it’s caused such a dilemma when it comes to our relationship, and he’s been very kind and understanding. He probably has ulterior motives for inviting me to his flat – I’m not dumb. I’m only entertaining the idea because I know that any form of physical contact, regardless of how long I’ve known him for, would be lovely. He may get me into bed tonight then decide he never wants to see me again. In AA’s eyes, that would be good news for me. In my eyes, that would be a disappoinment, not just because we got on so well last night, but because it would be so pointless. How can AA advise one to avoid caring, adult relationships in early recovery but encourage meaningless, pointless, anonymous sex? I find it very strange.

5 months, 5 days

Brrr! I really don’t like this cold weather. But I’m surprised by how I’m managing to survive it. I’m still walking to most if not all meetings, saving money on travel. Usually, I convince myself to walk by telling myself that if I can survive an hour long walk in the freezing cold, then I can survive anything. So far, it’s working.

 Today was good. I haven’t yet managed to start on the holiday homework for Uni – but I’m not beating myself up about that. If I can start tomorrow, it will be fine. I loved tonight’s meeting. I can’t believe it’s one that I used to hate in the beginning. The tone was very hopeful; people talked of overcoming their difficult childhoods to lead fulfilling, ‘normal’ lives in sobriety. I nearly cried when someone talked for ten minutes about their abusive father, who is now gone. Their pain, shame and fear caused by that father resonated so much with me – even though I never knew my own father. As I’ve said before, there was no physical abuse in my childhood, but there was a degree of emotional neglect, which I know is going to take a very long to time to deal with.

 Luckily, I’m starting to deal with it now, because I’m letting myself feel the pain. I’m so, so lucky to have a support network in AA, because for the first time in my life my pain is being validated. And with that new sense of validation I think I’m gradually softening up to the world. Before I may have thought I was a really nice person, but I was always in denial. The truth is, before recovery I had quite a hard outer shell, past which I’d rarely ever let anyone. I’m not saying all that shit has been undone in the space of five months, but I’m beginning to work on the problem, and I feel that the start I’ve made is the most positive thing in my entire life.

5 months, 4 days

It wasn’t what I’d call a productive day, but it was worthwhile, nonetheless. Early on I decided to make another one of those trips out to the edge of the London Underground network, this time to Uxbridge on the Piccadilly line. I seem to be getting serious about this fantasy of travelling to the end of every line now. Today’s trip was about as interesting as a train journey could be; I’d say the journey to Watford last week was probably nicer, as it was further out in the countryside. The novelty of making a completely random journey wasn’t as great today as it was last week. I don’t think I’ll make any more such journeys until next year.

 On the way back I sat opposite a woman and a young boy who were talking about their plans for the Christmas holiday. It became clear that the woman was the boy’s step-mother, as she kept talking about ‘dad’ as if she’d just married him; she also mentioned the boy’s mum a few times. She was asking the boy about stuff  he liked to eat, places he liked to go and things he liked to watch on television. It was funny listening to him practise his negative response.

 ”Do you like milk?”

“No.”

“Do you like bread?”

“No.”

“Do you like sausages?”

“No.”

“Do you like potatoes?”

“No.”

This went on for a while. Eventually she decided to change the subject, and they got along a lot better after that. They talked about what they were going to do at the weekend; she mentioned taking ‘the dogs’ for a walk and going clay pigeon shooting. It sounded like a fun weekend. I imagine the lucky boy will be staying with his dad and fun new step-mum over Christmas. Other people’s conversations rarely attract my attention in such a way, but this one did because it caused me to think about my own childhood. Seeing kids with their parents always makes me think about my childhood.

 When I was a kid, for years I wished that I had a step-family who I could go and stay with during the holidays. More than that, I wished I had an adult in my life who I could go out and have fun with. An adult who I could talk to and relate to. Of course, in adulthood I now have plenty of friends who fill that role, but nothing has yet made up for what I missed in childhood. It was always just me and my mum, and we hardly did any of those things. I have no interest in clay pigeon shooting, but it would have been nice to go on fun day trips to the countryside sometimes. It would have been nice to have exciting conversations about the holidays; it would have been nice to have a pet. It would have been nice to have a normal relationship with either of my parents. As it was, I spent years waiting for the day when my mum told me I’d been adopted, that it had all been a bad mistake and that my real, normal, family were waiting for me in Uxbridge or Watford.

 I’m not angry about these things any more, I’m just very sad about it. Until this year I was asking myself nearly every day why I couldn’t have a normal mother who I could talk to about normal things, and a normal father who actually wanted to see me sometimes. I’m not angry about it any more because I know that anger is just a symptom: it’s not the real, deep rooted feeling. That’s loneliness, and profound disappointment. My initial reaction today as soon as those feelings came up was to try and shut them down, but then something told me that I don’t need to shut the feelings down any more. Why should I hide from how I really feel? It’s dawned on me that the reason I’ve probably never dealt with the problem is because I’ve spent so long trying to escape it, out of embarrassment at its existence. Today, for the first time I guess I wasn’t embarrassed by my feelings, and so I’ve let myself feel them all afternoon. If I can sit through them without running away, perhaps I will finally learn to live with them.

5 months, 3 days

The highlight of the day was, again, the meeting I went to. My home group, the newcomers meeting near Hyde Park, is on Tuesdays, and it is quite often the highlight of my week. I think it’s the only meeting I get really excited about now. I’ve gone there pretty much every week since the beginning of my sobriety, and I know it well now. They ask newcomers with less than six months sobriety to share there, so it is the only meeting I’ve shared at consistently for five months. I’ve never really had a bad experience there; after five months I can confidently say that I love it, and I can definitely see myself becoming a permanent fixture there!

 Just knowing all the faces that walk through the door is comforting; knowing that I have to share every week is also kind of comforting, because I still don’t manage to share a lot in other meetings, meaning that my opportunities to get things off my chest are not what they could be. I’ve probably said this before, but when I reach six months in January and don’t get asked to share any more, I’ll undoubtedly be quite sad. I hope that by then I’m better at raising my hand to speak, because that’s what I’ll have to do in the meeting after January.

 Tonight’s meeting was generally positive and upbeat, as it always is. I talked of my recent ‘going out’ experiences, which have all I think been positive. Everyone in AA can appreciate being able to go out without the fear of waking up to a hangover or the embarrassing realisation that one has done something pretty stupid whilst in blackout; me especially. Before recovery, going out was my life, and although I’m not ‘on the scene’ these days nearly as much as I used to be, I don’t think it will ever stop being a part of my life. And to know that I can go out now without any fear of negative consequences is pretty amazing. I’m still getting used to that.

 I saw lots of friends there tonight and afterwards, for the first time, I was actually really keen to go for coffee with the group. Sadly, that meeting doesn’t normally end up going for coffee, for some reason. In five months I think I’ve only gone to coffee with them twice. When they do decide to stick around for some socialising at the nearby cafe, it’s really nice, which is why I look forward to the next time such a gathering happens.

 Unfortunately I think my desire to socialise tonight may have pissed Dave off a bit. He seemed to be expecting me to walk to the tube station with him as normal, but when I said I wanted to stay with the group, he just walked off without saying ‘goodbye’. I’d felt a bit awkward with him from the moment I saw him tonight, to be honest. Since last week I just haven’t felt the same around him. It’s like our friendship has changed too much since our date to ever be comfortable again. I’d hate it to be like that permanently, but this sort of thing has happened to me too many times before, and I’m not sure what to do to change it. He may not be pissed off with me; he may not be bothered that I didn’t walk to the tube station with him tonight; but in my head I feel as if he’s bothered, and because I’m still in early sobriety, that feeling alone is bound to make me feel even more awkward with him the next time I see him.

 I just can’t help letting this kind of situation occur, can I? On the way home tonight I found myself getting increasingly worried about all this awkwardness that seems to have surrounded me in AA recently. No one’s told me off yet for missing my greeting commitment on Sunday, but when I next go to that meeting I can just see the person who I share the commitment with saying something. He’s that type of person. So the thought of that has added to my worries this week. I’ve tried not to project, I’ve tried to remember that what other people think of me doesn’t matter, I’ve tried to remind myself that I’ve done nothing wrong; but the negative thoughts and feelings keep coming back, hijacking me every time I start to feel positive.

 It’s clear that what’s happening at the moment is a sign of my remaining illness. My awkward relationship with Dave is an overt and painful symptom of my co-dependency; perhaps a symptom of his as well. Everything that causes me discomfort and pain in life is a symptom of my disease. I’m still experiencing those symptoms because I still have a long way to go in sobriety. What I can be positive about is the fact of how far I’ve come. Having a home group where I know everyone and feel comfortable sharing honestly each week is not something I thought I’d ever get in sobriety; wanting and being able to socialise with other human beings without alcohol is the greatest reward that the programme has brought me. Tonight, for that, I am extremely grateful.

5 months, 2 days

A better day than yesterday over all; I haven’t done much, but I just feel better, as I always do after a good sleep. The main highlight of the day was this evening’s meeting. After four days without one, I knew I needed one today, so I attended the step meeting in Soho which I do not normally attend. I’m glad I went today as this week it was focused on step 12, a step I personally find fascinating. It strikes me as a very hopeful step, not that all the other steps aren’t hopeful, but it is the end of the programme; the step upon completion of which one can look to the future and be totally confident in one’s achievement. After we’d read the step out, the meeting settled on a philosophical tone, with people sharing about their conceptions of a higher power and their own personal takes on the programme. I heard a lot of things which I felt were very relevant to me. The great thing about AA is that you can go to a meeting you don’t normally go to, and still fit in comfortably.

 Though I’m nowhere near step 12 in my own programme, I really enjoyed tonight’s meeting and I think I will continue to go back every time it comes round to step 12 in the cycle. The meeting focuses on a different step every week, and when it starts back up after New Year it will be back to step 1, rather aptly. I’ll probably attend each week up til step 4 or 5 in this cycle; it’s good to hear how people talk about the steps in general. I feel like I’ve been on step 4 for so long now, it would be nice to be part of a meeting that actually focuses on it,  which will perhaps help me to move on from it. Although by the time the cycle comes round to step 4 I may already be lucky enough to have moved on; I think the last time the meeting came to step 4 I was only on step 2 or 3 myself.

 I’ve had time to think about what happened yesterday, and I guess I was so strung out because I was tired. I had to work very hard in the morning to get through that voluntary work shift, but I couldn’t appreciate that hard work because it had resulted in me not being able to show up for my greeting commitment. I spent the afternoon wallowing in misery and, dare I say it, self pity, simply because I am still a relative newcomer to the programme and and I don’t yet have all the tools to hand the negativity over.

 As I said before, I feel better today because I’ve had a good sleep, and I can see that yesterday wasn’t so bad. It could have been better, obviously; all of last week could have been better, really. I can appreciate that I made some mistakes last week. I went on a date when I should have known better; I put my name down to greet at a meeting on the same day that I had voluntary work in the morning. There is hope in those mistakes, if I can learn from them.

 If I’m sounding excessively philosophical, it’s because of tonight’s meeting! People talked of learning and growing from their mistakes; the alcoholic habit of making life difficult for ourselves when we always have the choice to make things simple. I realise that in the past week I made things tougher for myself than necessary. Many people tonight also spoke of the infamous ‘miracle’; most of them had years of sobriety, and so had all apparently experienced their miracles already.

 I know I haven’t experienced my miracle yet because I’m still making these mistakes, still finding life tough when it shouldn’t be. But after five months, I can safely say I’m closer to knowing what my miracle will be than I was in the beginning. I know what needs to happen for my life to change. Well, at least I know what I’d quite like to happen. I’d like to be able to walk into a room full of people and not instantly feel as if they’re strangers who all dislike me; I’d like to share in every meeting; I’d like to feel comfortable with doing more service in the fellowship; I’d like to start forming healthy, loving relationships; I’d love to get a job in my life outside AA which I enjoy. All these things are covered by the Promises, I think. So, I soldier on with the programme.