8 months, 16 days

2pm It’s been three days since my last post simply because my time has been taken up with many other things. I could have written something last night, but I was very tired after a long weekend, and I was also mightily pissed off with my computer, which has been playing up a lot recently. It’s going really slowly at the moment, and for some reason it keeps shutting itself down without warning. Things like that aren’t supposed to happen. It could be that the computer’s getting old, but that would make me really angry, because we’ve only had it for a short time. It’s just getting worse and worse. Having my internet usage threatened in this way hurts quite badly; I realise I probably have some kind of internet addiction, to be feeling this way about it. I pray that the situation resolves itself soon.

 I must now talk about what happened during my busy weekend. Having restricted internet access has given me the time to do so many wonderful things. First thing on Saturday I travelled across North London to crack on with my step 5 work with my sponsor. This time we were together for about three hours, and we managed to finish off all my resentments to do with primary school. Everyone who ever bullied me before the age of 11 was talked about. Over the last few years I’ve really dwelt on the boys who bullied me at secondary school, because those experiences were more recent and seemingly more important, but I think I did that at the expense of my primary school experiences, which were clearly as important.

 A few of the names that came up on Saturday sent a shiver down my spine; as I described some of these things that happened to me 17 or 18 years ago, the old fear reaction welled up inside me, just as it would have done at the time. I realised I was feeling that same fear because I’d never dealt with it, never processed it properly. I had never told anyone about many of those things before, and the further I went into these memories, the closer to tears I became. It came as a shock to feel that way again. I honestly never knew that these things were still affecting me. Today I sincerely hope that having talked about those things for the first time, I can finally begin to process and let go of the fear. It is that fear of being helpless and weak that has stopped me from progressing in life so far. My sponson keeps telling me that I’m an adult now, I’m not helpless and weak any more, and I can begin to take control of my life. I’m really starting to believe him.

 I hardly had time to sit down after leaving my sponsor on Saturday, as it was getting into late afternoon and I’d planned to go to the early evening meeting in Notting Hill. I quickly had dinner at home before dashing off to West London, knowing I wouldn’t be back until late that night as I’d arranged to go out with Colin and some others after the meeting. I got to Notting Hill in good time, and the meeting was lovely. I shared about my step 5 work, how well it was all going. It was nice to speak there again, to feel part of the room.

 After the meeting I had a couple of free hours until I had to meet Colin in South London. I went for coffee with the group as I always do – they go to a nice little non-chain café on Westbourne Grove, and the crowd is usually very nice. I stayed there for an hour, chatting about relationships and sobriety and other relevant things. When it got to 9 o’clock I suddenly became nervous. I knew I’d have to start making my way to South London if I wanted to get there on time, but all of a sudden I didn’t want to go. It was that old fear of having a bad night. What if the music at the club wasn’t any good? What if Colin ended up focusing on his friends and ignoring me? What if Colin didn’t turn up at all? I realised that I was also a bit scared of going South of the river again. I remembered the club being in a pretty rough area; certainly not a place I’d ever choose to go on my own. Most of all, the memory of the bad times I’d had there in the past were haunting me, and because my default setting is to be negative, I couldn’t shake that anxiety off during the whole bus journey.

 I kept going nonetheless, because my recovery voice was telling me not to turn back and run away. In life I’ve always run away from scary situations, and now I know that the situations which scare me are the ones I should be facing. No, going out in South London isn’t going to change my life or make me a better person, but the opportunity to go dancing with AA friends has been rare so far in sobriety, and there was no reason to believe that this particular night out would be a bad one. The major difference between this time and the last time I went to that place was my sobriety. And do you know what, we ended up having an absolutely brilliant time. The music was far better than I ever remembered it, the cabaret was good, and the company was amazing. Colin is a very good friend of mine now, and he’s even better to dance with. I’ve never lost interest in dancing, and to be able to dance to some of my favourite songs of all time with a good friend on Saturday night was mind-blowing. It was almost like a spiritual experience.

 The place was unfortunately very busy, and it was hard to dance comfortably without constantly bumping into people, which I hate. It was also extremely hot, despite being about -5 degrees outside. When we finally left at 2am I was thoroughly shattered, and I knew I wouldn’t want to do it again for at least a couple of months. I wouldn’t mind if we don’t do it again for another year. It was the kind of night you wouldn’t want to spoil by repeating every single week. My problem in my drinking days was that I kept trying to repeat the good experiences, over and over again, week after week, all the while wearing myself out and ruining the experience completely. Right now, I’m happy to savour what I had on Saturday night and spend the rest of this year’s weekends indoors, if I have to.

 As soon as I woke up yesterday morning, I knew something was wrong. It didn’t take me long to realise that I’d forgotten to move my clock forward one hour. The clocks always go forward on the last Sunday of March in this country. I’d been talking about it with people during Saturday; how could I forget when it came to the time to do it early on Sunday morning? The reason it had become so important is that I was booked in for a voluntary shift with the Food Chain yesterday morning. I woke up thinking it was 9.30am, to discover that it was really 10.30am, and I only had half an hour to get changed, have breakfast and go to work.

 Thank God for my sobriety. If I had been hungover yesterday, I wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed fast enough. As it was, I managed to get a decent breakfast down myself and go to work in very reasonable time. To not feel the slightest bit ill was wonderful. I was quite tired, but I’d rather feel tired than hungover any day. When I got to work I saw a few familiar and friendly faces; my driver for the day was really easy to get on with and we were on a delivery route that we both knew very well. All in all it was a brilliant shift, probably my best so far. I can’t believe I’ve been doing that work throughout my sobriety. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s thanks to that work that I got sober in the first place. Last July, when I went into work with my last ever hangover, I had to leave halfway through the shift due to being sick on the job. Yesterday, despite being a bit worn out from a big night out, I was able to do my job properly, and those people who were relying on us got their food delivered in phenomenal time. I was proud of myself yesterday.

11.40pm Not a great day. I spent most of the afternoon being angry at my computer, as it continued to play up. I came close to physically attacking the computer several times. I know this isn’t healthy behaviour. It’s not nice being angry, it’s physically draining and it’s given me a headache. The anger I’m feeling is actually quite painful. I forgot how bad it could be. I have to detach myself from it, because it is poison. It has cast a shadow over the whole day.

 The evening’s meeting was OK. It wasn’t on last week, so it had been two weeks since I last made the tea. The commitment went without a hitch tonight, as it usually does, though I still can’t say I’m enjoying it. I just get on with it now. I say ‘hello’ to everyone who asks for tea, but there are still few people who I feel comfortable having a conversation with. The meeting’s chair was good, as was all the sharing. I didn’t open my mouth – it was focused on step 11 this week, a step I’m still very far off. Afterwards I went for coffee with the group, and continued not to say much. I wouldn’t say I felt socially anxious, like I used to every week, but the group who go to coffee after this particular meeting are quite a posh group of people. They talk a lot about art and alternative music, stuff I’m only vaguely aware of. I like them as people individually; together they can be a bit daunting!

8 months, 13 days (wildest dreams)

After spending a few hours debating which meeting to go to tonight, I decided to attend the gay one in Soho which I have not been to for a few months. The initial plan was to go back to the mainstream young person’s meeting, which I was at last week. I wanted to get back into the routine of attending that meeting every week, to see if I could learn how to make friends with people of my own age in the fellowship. In the end, though, I went to the gay meeting instead as I knew I’d recognise a lot of people there, and it would probably be quite a good opportunity for me to socialise. It is wonderful to be able to go to a meeting and know lots of people – I’m very lucky to have that. I wish I could find that comfort and reassurance in every meeting I go to, whether I know people there or not, but it’s not going to happen. It’s taken a long time to make so many friends in the gay fellowship. I don’t know if it will ever be the same for me in the ‘mainstream’ meetings. I’d like to think that in ten years from now I’ll have just as many straight friends as I do gay, but everyone I’ve spoken to about it says it doesn’t matter one way or the other.

 Back to tonight. The meeting was fantastic. Lots of relevant and moving sharing, as always. I remembered that it was the first meeting I ever shared in voluntarily, last July when I was just six days sober. Remembering that tonight, I can’t believe I actually managed that when I was so new to the fellowship. I didn’t feel brave enough to share tonight, because it was a very busy meeting, but I realise that my need to share at the moment isn’t as strong as it was eight months ago, anyhow. I was surrounded by friends, as I knew I would be, and they were all genuinely pleased to see me there. It was the same on Tuesday night, when I gave my chair at my home group.

 They give me the feeling of being loved, something I craved so badly before I found the fellowship. Years ago, when I had no real friends, I dreamt of being in this position, where people actually wanted to be around me and spend time with me. At University I had lots of fairweather friends, all of whom I thought were the real thing at the time, but they soon passed out of my life, one by one, and in the end I was left despairing, wondering why I couldn’t keep friends. As long as I kept losing friends I was deeply insecure, and now I don’t need to feel that way, because I know instinctively that the friends I’ve got in AA are true friends who will always be there.

 After the meeting tonight I was in the mood for more socialising, and so decided to go for coffee with the group on Old Compton Street, our old gay stomping ground. Up til recently, tagging along with the group made me very nervous, because I could never quite believe that I was wanted there, even though people kept telling me and showing me that I was. Part of me would always feel uncomfortable, out of place in the social situation, just because I’m wired to feel that way around people in the beginning. For quite a while I’ve avoided going for post-meeting coffee on the majority of occasions, just because I haven’t had the energy to subject myself to the constant internal torture that sober socialising causes me.

 Tonight was different. Having a lot of friends around helped me tremendously, and I was quite comfortable sitting in the café with them, talking and mingling. There were some newcomers with us, and I could see the fear in their eyes, the same fear I felt when I first started going for coffee. It’s a big deal for alcoholics, socialising without drink. Our bodies don’t want us to do it. I’m so glad I finally seem to have shaken off that discomfort and awkwardness in the social situation. Of course, it helps that I now generally know when I’m likely to enjoy a situation and when I’m not. If there had been no one familiar at the meeting tonight, I probably would have gone straight home afterwards.

 I am extremely grateful to my higher power for allowing me to enjoy myself so much tonight. It really was fun. We were in a lovely place, and I was sat next to Colin, one of the most entertaining people I know in AA. Last year I hated him, I thought he was a buffoon! That was before I knew him at all.  I would now count him among my close friends. We have so much in common, and soon we’re going to the theatre together, to see Chicago, a show we’ve both wanted to see for a long time. It’s incredible how things have turned out for me. I am living my wildest dreams, those fantasies I conjured up as a teenager when the idea of going out and meeting people was deeply threatening to me. Despite this, there are certain things that continue to play on my mind, such as my dissertation, and the big job search coming up after graduation in the summer.

 I always used to think stuff like: ‘if I just had this, this and this, then I would be happy.’ Sadly, life doesn’t work like that. I am living my dreams today, in that I have a solid and reliable circle of friends to go out with and confide in when I need to. That doesn’t mean everything in my life is magically OK. People with long term sobriety keep saying ‘life is still shit sometimes’, and I know what they mean. That doesn’t mean I can never be happy. My life will never be perfect. I’ll always have something to worry about. But I can’t deny that it’s a whole lot better now than it was eight months ago. As long as I live it one day at a time, I’ll be fine.

 Colin has invited me out tomorrow night. He’s going to a nightclub in South London and he said it would be lovely for me to come along too. There’ll be a few AA’s there; it sounds like a group of them go there on a regular basis. I don’t know why but I’ve held onto this desire to go dancing in sobriety – all the other stuff that went with drinking, such as going to pubs and clubs every weekend, is stuff I just wouldn’t do any more. But dancing, I haven’t stopped enjoying. I imagine Colin and the others feel the same way. So although we will be in a ‘wet place’ tomorrow night, it looks like we’re going to have a good time. We’ll be together, which helps.

 To be asked along so keenly, by someone who I genuinely admire in AA, is lovely. I can’t wait for tomorrow night. First, though, I will be at my sponsor’s flat cracking on with step 5. He was at the meeting earlier this evening, too, and we had another good chat. That’s another thing I’m grateful for tonight, the good relationship that I have with my sponsor. I know he probably won’t be my sponsor forever. But I hope we can remain friends when the step work is over. He’s a fantastic person.

8 months, 12 days (trust)

4pm I think the reason why I had to go into so much detail last night about why AA isn’t a cult, is that I needed to convince myself. When I was involved in that long and drawn out discussion on the internet, where I felt personally attacked by the anti-AA remarks, I was really terrified because my belief in AA itself was brought into question. For a second when I was down on my knees praying to my higher power before going to bed, I asked myself why I was doing it. What am I praying to? Why?

 What this is really indicative of is my innate inability to feel secure in my own beliefs. Whenever somebody criticizes me on anything, I feel personally attacked, and no matter how often I’m told by loved ones not to take these things personally, I still do! With regards to this specific case, it could be said that I’m right to question my beliefs. The success of AA hasn’t been scientifically proven; spirituality and higher powers by their nature require faith without reason. AA advertises them as such.

 Having only been in AA for eight months I suppose it’s natural for me to continue to have my doubts. It’s a bit worrying that I didn’t realise I had these doubts until yesterday, though if I dig deep and think back, they were probably there on the edge of my consciousness for months.

 I have my faith back today because, as I said last night, of all the benefits that I know AA has brought to my life in the past eight months. For the first time ever, I’m not just doing real things to boost my confidence, I’m also beginning to question the negative beliefs which have always held me back. I’m beginning to trust that things will turn out for me all right in the end, and most importantly of all, I’m not drinking.

10pm I’ve just been to two very inspiring and powerful AA meetings. The two meetings that I’ve gone to every Thursday for months. I’ve always liked them, but tonight they both seemed extra special. The two chairs were given by two very different people, both of whom I could identify with; all the sharing was spine-tinglingly relevant. People talked of honesty, of trust and of faith – things I lack sometimes but which I’m getting more of each day. A couple of shares really stood out for me. Someone talked about the job that he’d just got, his first job in sobriety. It’s only a menial cleaning job but the man had nothing but gratitude to express for it. He said that sixty days ago he’d never have believed it possible. From living in the gutter he is now working full time for a wage. Amazing! It struck a chord with me because I know I have that job search coming up very soon. I’ve talked about it to death and here in meetings, and I’ve got to keep talking about it, because I’m continuing to experience a lot of fear around it.

 Another sharer talked about crying. This was a typical middle-aged heterosexual man, not someone you’d expect to burst into tears at the drop of the hat! He said that he can cry whenever he needs to – and that’s quite a lot - thanks to the program. ‘Why did God give me tear ducts if He didn’t want me to cry?’ That man’s words touched me deeply because I know I don’t cry nearly enough. In fact, I think I’ve only cried once in sobriety. That was last year, when I was about a month sober, and I’d just had a blazing row with my mum. My sponsor came to meet me and I was in a worse state than I’d ever been in. I could hardly keep the tears in. Since then, not a single tear has passed my tear ducts. Not because I don’t want to cry – I simply can’t. I must have learnt a mechanism a long time ago to keep the tears in. Now I know how harmful that mechanism is to me, and I can’t stop it. I really want to cry tonight, to let go of this fear and anxiety, but yet again, the tears won’t come!

 When I was drinking, boy could I cry. I would cry over anything when I was drunk. Since drinking isn’t an option now, I have to learn how to cry sober. God, how strange does that sound! I wish it wasn’t this way but I fear it’s going to be another big part of my journey. There’s so much to cry over, and it all comes back to fear. Not only am I scared that I won’t be able to find a job in the summer and support myself. I’m still scared by that conversation I was having the other day, where someone accused AA of being a cult. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to ignore those attacks any more, that I’ll lose my faith in AA and that I’ll die. It’s become clear tonight that without AA, I can’t survive now. I really need AA. I never knew how desperate that need was before.

 I will have to pray for my higher power to restore the strong faith that I had only a few days ago. The saddest thing is that I was listening to everything said in tonight’s meetings. I took it all in, and I love both of those meetings dearly now. But still, all the while I have this doubt in my mind. People outside of the fellowship just don’t understand how important it is to alcoholics. People outside can be so mean. Telling me there’s no such thing as alcoholism, that it’s all in the mind. What do they know? Yet I still hang around with these people, I still go onto these internet discussion forums and subject myself to the same torture, day in and day out. I’m spending more time on the internet than I ever did, and I’m not enjoying it. The people I interact with on this one website aren’t in the fellowship, they’re drinkers, and I think the longer I spend with them the harder it’s going to get. But I can’t leave. I’ve tried before, but I ended up going back every time. No, it’s not driving me to drink, but I’m starting to think the internet itself, or at least online social networking, is an addiction all on its own.

8 months, 11 days

I was stunned this morning to receive a phone call from Dave, one of the people from my home group, thanking me for my chair last night. Dave and I went on a date at the end of last year, when we were both a lot newer to the fellowship. It was a lovely date but we both seemed to realise at the time that it was a mistake to get involved in a relationship. Since then we haven’t spoken much with each other. For weeks after the date we felt awkward and embarrassed around each other, perhaps thinking that we’d got too involved too soon. Recently, it’s been a bit less awkward, but I still wouldn’t class him as a close friend. It’s a shame because in the very beginning when we first met, we got on really well.

 Hearing from him today was a pleasant surprise, especially since I thought he didn’t like me any more. It seems he does still like me after all, and I’m thinking maybe we can be friends again. I have to admit that there’s still a part of me wanting to get into a relationship with him. I find him very attractive physically, and I know from our date that he’s a lovely guy with a lot to offer. Now that I’ve been sober for the best part of a year, I’m wondering if maybe I’m more ready for a relationship than I was last December, when we dated. I probably am, but I don’t think Dave is – he’s only four months sober. I’d like to ask him out again, but in all likelihood it would probably be better to wait a few more months. If it’s meant to be, I suppose there’s no rush to make things happen. I’m going to trust my higher power on this one.

 Tonight I went to the theatre again with Earl. This time we saw a play about the history of Alcoholics Anonymous, called ‘My Name’s Bill’. Most of the scenes featured discussions between Bill Wilson and his wife Lois, in the days leading up to the first ever AA meeting between Bill and Dr Bob in Akron, Ohio. It was a fascinating insight into how the fellowship started, how and why the program was created. The scenes between Bill and Lois were painful and touching, as the characters talked to each other and to the audience about their history, their traumas at the hands of alcoholism. A lot of it sounded like the stuff you would hear in any modern AA meeting anywhere in the world. Those two people were no different to anyone else of their time, they were an average American couple in the 1930’s, but to all in AA they are Gods, because they created this fellowship, by simply talking about their feelings. They started something truly miraculous, something I believe in as much as everyone else who was in that theatre tonight.

 The other day I was having an online discussion about AA, which I am mentioning now because it seems to have become important. You know about the social networking website which I’ve mentioned here many times before – sometimes the discussion forums can feature some pretty heavy discussion topics, and this week someone was asking for advice about their drinking problem. They said they’d been to AA before and didn’t like it because of all the talk of ‘powerlessness’. They felt that it was like a cult, and said that all the religious stuff had put them off after a few months of sobriety. They went back to controlled drinking but it’s now not working, and they’re stuck for what to do next.

 I suggested trying another AA meeting – obviously the person must have found something worthwhile in the fellowship to stick at it for a few months the first time. Their main problem is the ‘powerlessness’ that you have to accept. I spent hours trying to explain in the easiest terms possible why this acceptance of powerlessness is actually the most empowering thing an alcoholic can do – but in the end the person couldn’t accept that it was the right thing to do. I wanted to reach out to this person, to help them as I was helped eight months ago in exactly the same way. But I feel like I’ve failed, because the person is sticking to ‘controlled’ drinking, to the misery that it brings.

 I know AA isn’t for everyone.  I know there isn’t one single treatment which can work for every person that tries it. But to begin with I felt like I might have been getting through to that person. What upset and frightened me the most was the talk of AA being a ‘cult’. It felt like AA was being attacked, so in turn I felt attacked. People outside seem to think it’s a cult that brainwashes alcoholics, because we’re told that we will die if we don’t keep going back. I don’t think I’ve been brainwashed, but what if I’m wrong? What if all of it is a big lie?

 In the end I’ve kept my trust in my higher power, and ignored the comments about cults and brainwashing, because I know in my heart that AA has saved my life. Even if I’ve been brainwashed against alcohol – so what? I don’t need it to survive. I don’t need alcohol any more, thanks to AA. I’ve experienced nothing but benefits since I joined the fellowship eight months ago. All the joy and love I felt last night at my home group, after giving my chair, wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t worked a program of recovery this year. If I’d never asked for help last year, I simply wouldn’t have the life I have now, a life which I know is immeasurably better than it was eight months ago. AA doesn’t brainwash anyone, because we are constantly reminded that we have the choice to leave at any time. Yes, we are told that leaving would put us in peril – that’s because in our hearts we know that no true alcoholic can deal with the illness alone.

 In AA you only have to not drink one day at a time. No one’s pressured into doing anything for the rest of his/her life. Of course there are some in AA who try to practise it differently, to tell others what to do, but thankfully those people are rare. The freedom of choice that I’ve been given throughout my time in AA is how the Big Book says it should be.

8 months, 10 days

5.30pm Despite the Bank Holiday weekend being over, the period of rest and relaxation continues for me, as I am on holiday from University until next week. Yesterday I managed to do some washing, the most strenuous thing I’d done all weekend. After that I went to meet my closest friend Neal in town, for a spot of lunch. It had been hastily planned as we were both at a loose end. I guess I was looking for more excuses not to get on with the studying which I am required to start before I return to Uni next week. We ended up enjoying a lovely afternoon out, finding this remarkable little café in the heart of the borough which serves the nicest traditional English food. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted it before. It was the perfect afternoon; we chatted and laughed. There were no awkward feelings between us, not that there should have been. I’ve known Neal for a very long time, and although we have a history with each other, we’re long past all that now.

 Today has been somewhat less eventful, though I’m pleased with myself for managing to make a start on one of the essays which will be due in the next few weeks. Being on holiday is supposed to give us the opportunity to write those essays in good time, but so far I’ve not taken the opportunity, despite being off since last week. Anyway, I wrote a paragraph today, which may not sound like a lot, but it’s a start. It’s all I needed to reignite my interest in the subject, and I should be set to finish a good essay by the end of the week. As always, I’m aware that many of my colleagues won’t be starting the work until the very last minute, so I’ve done pretty well, all things considered.

 Right now I’m very nervous, as I have been asked to do tonight’s chair at my home group. This is the meeting that I’ve somewhat lost my enthusiasm for in recent weeks, due to the ongoing saga of the missing literature. Being asked to give the chair has reminded me why I was fond of the meeting in the first place. Maybe I am a valued member of the meeting, maybe they like me after all. I can’t wait to give the chair; there is such a lot to talk about, such a lot of responsibility on me to say something that will reach out to those newcomers (it’s a newcomer meeting). I’m ready to fully embrace that responsibility. Having been around for eight months, I know that AA works, and I want to spread that message.

 I’ll let you know how it goes later.

10.10pm It went brilliantly. Better than my first chair two months ago, I thought. I got to the meeting and I just knew there would be friends there. To be able to chair my home group, the meeting that got me sober and into the habit of sharing about my feelings honestly, was deeply rewarding and comforting. I knew half the faces there, and it was a busy meeting. There was a sense of buzz and excitement amongst my group of friends when they found out that I was giving the chair; I felt like a celebrity!

 I talked for fifteen minutes about my early sobriety, as that is the theme of the chair every week there. It was easy for me to talk about this subject, as I’m still in very early sobriety, all things considered. I remarked on those two AA meetings that I went to in 2004, when I wasn’t ready for the programme in any way, shape or form. I talked about feeling uncomfortable, angry and frightened in my very early days; my inability to introduce myself to people, my fear of getting up every morning, of taking responsibility for my life. How these things have slowly changed over the last eight months, so that now I have less fear around life in general. I brought the chair around to where I am now; the position I’m in with my career where I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and the acceptance I have that everything’s probably going to be all right. All of this is down to the power of the programme, and I really feel that I got that message across, which is important because it’s a message that I needed and wanted to put across.

 In short, it was completely different to my first chair back in January, which was focused on step 3. Early sobriety is an entirely different subject; furthermore, I felt more sure of myself today, more comfortable with the words coming out of my mouth. That progress I’ve made in just two months, from a nervous and stuttery first chair to a more confident and rounded second chair, is heartening. I’m not saying I’m completely cured of nerves and anxiety now – I was still really nervous tonight, but it was noticeably less. I feel a closer connection with my higher power, and with the steps, than I did two months ago. I feel stronger now.

 On a different note, the saga of the missing literature continues: the treasurer wasn’t present today, so we will have to wait another week to find out if the new batch of literature’s arrived. It’s really bothering me now, not that it wasn’t bothering me before! It’s just one of those things that seems to go on and on and on. Although, when I look back on this in five or ten years’ time, I’m sure I’ll wonder what all the fuss was about! Things like this go on in real life all the time, I know. And because I’m an alcoholic, I want to make it into a far bigger drama than it actually is. In the grand scheme of things it’s not majorly significant at all. It will be sorted out soon; I have the meeting’s formidable secretary on my side now.

8 months, 8 days

It’s been an interesting weekend. Yesterday I went over to my sponsor’s place to continue with step 5. I didn’t spend long there this week, as he seemed very tired and in need of his rest. In fact he was in his pyjamas the whole time I was there! It was weird seeing him in such a state. I felt like I was seeing something private, in an odd way. As I left his place I was instantly in a bad mood as I had wanted to get a lot more done yesterday. I’ve been stuck on step 5 for three months now – I feel like I should have moved past it already. All my other friends in sobriety seem to be much further along in the programme. My sponsor picked up on my mood as I was walking out of the door, and told me that he wants to do the step this way for a reason. He says he wants us to take our time with it, so that I can grow in the process. Rather than do it all in one sitting, we’re spreading it out over the months just like he did with his sponsor. Finally he reassured me that he too felt impatient to finish it when he did it, but he can now appreciate that it was the best way. I guess I can see his point – I am growing in the process of working step 5, I can see that already. As I’ve been told many times before, there is no race with the steps, and I have heard of cases where people took a year to finish it. I hope it won’t take me that long, but if it does, I guess that’s how long my higher power wants it to take.

 After leaving my sponsor’s flat I went for a long walk across London, as I normally do on Saturdays now. Unfortunately the weather couldn’t make up its mind yesterday – one minute it was sunny, the next it was snowing! My walk wasn’t that enjoyable, and I had to come home after a couple of hours as I just couldn’t take it any more. I had intended to stay out all day and go to the meeting in Notting Hill, but in the end the thought of coming home early to spend a fun evening on the internet won out. On the way home I bought a notebook, which will now be my ‘book of random thoughts’. Ever since I started spending lots of time in coffee shops on my own, I’ve been thinking that I need something to write my thoughts in, when I can’t get to the computer. In the day I’m always getting interesting and useful thoughts which I’d like to remember, which are usually forgotten about by the time I get to writing this. Now I have my notebook, which I can take everywhere, hopefully I’ll be able to remember a lot more. It’s like having a companion. I read somewhere that writers should take notebooks everywhere with them, for those useful thoughts and ideas.

 Today I was meant to be going to the cinema with a friend, but because it was still snowing, I really didn’t feel like going out. So I contacted him to cancel, with a lie about being ill. I don’t like lying, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He had other people to go to the cinema with, so I haven’t ruined his day. I ended up spending the day at home, writing on the computer mostly. I’ve managed to get back to my novel, redrafting the first chapter. This is something that really needs to get done, and because it’s so hard redrafting I’ve procrastinated about it for months. I’m really pleased that I got that first chapter done today; it reassures me that I haven’t got bored of the novel yet. It will probably be years yet before the whole thing is finished, but that’s no matter. As long as I keep going with it in the meantime. I feel more than ever that writing is what I’m meant to be doing. And I still believe that the story I’ve written is a good story.

 Another benefit of staying in today is that I’ve saved money. I’ve been spending rather a lot recently on all those hours sitting in coffee shops in London. I know I’m spending not nearly as much as I used to when I was drinking, but the money I am spending could still be better utilized. I’ve had a nice day at home; apart from the writing I’ve watched a couple of good films on TV. It being Easter Sunday, there was always bound to be something interesting on. This spending the day at home on leisurely pursuits is something I could never fully enjoy before. In my drinking days I’d always feel restless and bored after a few hours, impatient for the next drink, I guess. Today I’ve spent the day with myself, doing nothing particularly exciting or energetic, and it’s been really good. I’m not bored of my own company tonight, because I’ve found things to occupy my mind that don’t involve mind altering substances.

8 months, 6 days

I was in a funny mood earlier today, one of those mind sets where I felt anxious and irritable, for a few hours. I don’t know why this might have happened, but it was very noticeable, perhaps because it’s an unusual occurrence these days. In the past it was the norm for my mood to fluctuate from one extreme to another, but it hasn’t been like that recently. I think my mood’s kind of evened out in the past few weeks, which must be a good thing. So to feel that edginess earlier on was like a jolt.

 In the evening I dragged myself to the young persons’ AA meeting which I hadn’t been to for about six months. When I got there I was comforted to see people I knew from the gay meetings. I sat down in the row in front of them still feeling a little bit edgy, when I got a tap on my shoulder and turned round to see my sponsor! He was the last person I expected to see, and having him there put me at ease a little. The meeting was interesting; there was a lot of good sharing. I wish I could have shared myself, as it’s been well over a week since I last spoke in any meeting. But this particular meeting is still one that scares me a lot, and sharing there feels too difficult at the moment. Because of that fear, I know it’s a meeting that I need to keep going back to. I need to work on that fear, which is the direct result of my bad relationships with peers in the past. So far in recovery I’ve stuck to very comfortable meetings where everyone is either gay or older than me; I feel that to take my recovery forward I need to start mixing with younger non-gay people now. If I continue to avoid them I will continue to fear them, and that’s not good for me in the long run.

 After the meeting the gay group were going for dinner, and I felt genuine surprise when my sponsor invited me along. He wasn’t doing it out of politeness or obligation – he told me I was very welcome to come along if I wanted to. So I jumped into his car along with the others and we drove into Soho, where we managed to find a table in the same Chinese restaurant where we had eaten a few weeks ago. At times there were awkward silences; all of us there were a bit shy, I think. My sponsor has his shy moments, just like me. A while ago, those awkward silences would have killed me, but tonight it wasn’t so bad. When the conversation flowed it was good conversation. I even managed to make friends with one of the people who I’d never spoken to before, Carl, who is six months into the programme. We ended up chatting the most. It was easy talking to him, we had a lot in common.

 After dinner some of us went to one of the bars for a bit of a dance. We didn’t stay long, and we actually spent most of the time sitting down when we got there. I could tell my sponsor wasn’t enjoying it that much. When Carl asked him how he was finding it, he said he had passed the point in his life where he felt comfortable being around drunk people. I saw a little bit of my sponsor’s vulnerability tonight, which made me feel a little guilty because I couldn’t do anything to help him. But shortly after that I remembered it’s not my responsibility to ensure anyone else’s happiness except my own. At 10 o’clock my sponsor went home and I was just left with Carl, who I got to know even better during the next half hour. We talked an awful lot, and I found it completely natural to do so. The fear was totally absent tonight. I couldn’t believe it when I was on my way home, I’d had such a good time. We didn’t dance much or stay out very late, but we connected with each other in a meaningful way, and that’s special.

8 months, 5 days

The whole dating and relationship thing seems a bit less of an issue this evening. After a good sleep, anything difficult always does. It’s easier to see the positives in last night now: I was able to do something scary and go through with the date without drinking, and I came home early instead of going back to the guy’s place like I would have done automatically if I was drinking. I seem to have gained a simple acceptance that relationships will always be difficult for me, at least in the beginning, which has allowed me to get on with my life today. I can give this part of my illness a name now – co-dependency - and this takes its power away. As I feel these difficult feelings, they are still painful, but I’m much quicker to recognise and counter them now. In fact I feel quite detached from them today. That’s not to say there won’t continue to be issues around sex and relationships in my life, but I think I’ve made a real breakthrough with it this week. Instead of running away from it, I think I will become part of the dating game again, and start seeing more guys. The longer I spend in recovery the more I realise that the only way to tackle issues is to face them head on.

 The wonderful thing about the AA programme is that it covers all these side issues, such as sex and love. Yes, there are other fellowships for these things, but they all came out of AA, and they all have the same 12 steps as AA. Someone shared tonight that they used alcohol as the solution to their problems – alcohol itself wasn’t the problem. And it’s so true, once you get rid of alcohol and scrape the surface, you find a mass of things underneath which are responsible for the -ism on the surface. In my recovery I’m fast coming to the conclusion that I am massively co-dependent. Alcohol didn’t cause that, but it certainly stopped me from dealing with it.

 Tonight’s main chair was wonderful, talking about co-dependency and victimhood and sex addiction. He’s a person I’ve heard speak quite a few times before; in fact he was one of the first sharers I remember identifying with. I think I may have considered asking him to be my sponsor at one point. He’s about 25 years sober, and in a big way he reminds me of myself. If I work a successful programme, I’ll probably be like him in 25 years from now. I’d like to be like him. It was lovely to see him chairing the ‘After 8′ meeting tonight, which isn’t the sort of meeting I would have expected to see him chair. It’s just funny seeing people you know from the gay meetings turn up in predominantly ’straight’ meetings such as that one. He didn’t talk about being gay a lot – I suppose straight alcoholics, especially those who are new to the programme, don’t want to hear all about that side of things. But seeing him tonight made me feel a bit closer to that particular meeting. It reminded me that I can find kindred spirits in any meeting, whether gay or straight. I don’t just have to stick to the gay meetings any more, which I was doing for a long time.

 I’ve decided to go to the young persons’ meeting tomorrow, the one I haven’t been to for about six months. Last time I was there I ran scared after the meeting was over, freaked out by the similarities I was hearing to my own story. I’m going back tomorrow because it’s been long enough. I need to be around peers again. Some friends from the gay meetings will be going tomorrow as well. It will be nice to be in a group there. Going to meetings such as this, big meetings that I would have avoided in my very early days, takes me out of my comfort zone and helps me to spread my wings. I’m growing in recovery and I need to start seeing new people now. I’ll always love and go back to the gay meetings but sticking to those alone has been restrictive.

 My sponsor’s back from holiday now, and we will be getting on with step 5 at the weekend, as usual. We’re coming to the halfway point, I think. I can’t wait for it to be finished so I can get on with step 6. I know there’s no race, but I have been on step 5 for a long time now - at least three months. Partly because there were many weekends when I was too busy to see him. That can’t happen any more, this can’t be put off any longer. I’ve been feeling the positive effects of step 5 for a while. The lifting of anger and resentment, the ability to detach myself from my feelings and recognise them clearly. I want that to continue, and it only works by maintaining the momentum of the step work. In all honesty, steps 4 and 5 are the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. Eight months ago, I NEVER thought I’d hear myself saying that.

8 months, 4 days (people, places and things)

11am This is going to be a different one. I just copied this old diary entry to my computer. It was written on the 20th September 2001, the day after I left home and went to University. I was 18 years old, brand new to the world. It strongly reminds me of things I’ve written about my experiences in AA; in a way it’s like history is repeating itself in 2008.

The euphoria I talked about last night wasn’t to last. Tonight at dinner the boys asked me if I wanted to go out with them again, and this time I said ‘no’, because I was still shattered from last night, so they went off into town, and I was left to wash up on my own, feeling like a bit of a loser. Five minutes later they came back for some reason, but they didn’t ask me if I wanted to stay in the kitchen with them. Right now I’m sitting in my room, listening to them having a wail of a time in the kitchen with the girls from upstairs.

 Up til a few minutes ago I was too upset to write about it, but then one of the boys from the group (I think his name’s Liam) knocked on my door to ask if I knew where everyone had gone. I said ‘aren’t they in the kitchen?’, but he didn’t seem to know who those people in the kitchen were. There are certainly people living here who I don’t know yet. I assumed that the people we both knew must have gone back into town. This feeling of not being the only person left behind made me feel perversely better. I mean, Liam could have gone out to find the group by now, but I don’t get the feeling he’d do that. Through today I’ve noticed his quietness; he isn’t as outgoing as some of the group. Before I got here I thought I’d never find someone shy like me, but maybe I’m about to be proved wrong.

 Of course it would be nice if I could just be outgoing like everyone else, rather than have to look for someone who seems a bit shy, but it was always going to be this way. My problem is I get so paranoid about what people think about me that I retreat and hide from them, rather than stick around and attempt to make them like me. That’s why I’m too scared to step outside my door right now. I know I’m worrying for no reason. Why on earth would these people be offended by me not wanting to go out with them? Unfortunately, nothing’s going to make me want to go outside of my room right now. They’ve most likely forgotten all about me by now, and that hurts as much as the thought of them being offended does.

 This reminds me of what happened to one of the characters in last year’s series of Big Brother. He retreated into his own world while the others got on with their drinking and shouting. None of them said they were offended by this character’s shyness; in fact he seemed quite a well-liked member of the group. Am I well-liked by my group? I thought I was up until a few hours ago, but now I’m really not sure. Offending people isn’t my main fear, it’s being forgotten about that I’m scared of in the end. I’m probably so forgettable that even Liam won’t bother with me any more.

 When I stepped into AA last summer I was forced to make friends in a brand new situation all over again, and the fear was exactly the same, seven years on. Every time I have to meet new people and find my way on my own, it terrifies me, as the potential for rejection continues to haunt me. When I went to University in 2001, I hadn’t started drinking yet; that would soon find its way into my life, and for the next six years alcohol would be my crutch in the social situation. In Alcoholics Anonymous, using alcohol is never an option, which is why I’ve had to go back in time and learn those social skills properly. Slowly, I’m getting there. People seem to like me now, lots of them are interested in my progress; I don’t think I will be forgotten about in AA. That fear remains all the time, though, at the back of my mind. In my heart and in my gut I am still that scared teenager, who had never properly grown up with a full set of life skills. I’ve only been learning how to function in the world as an adult for eight months – it’s going to be a long, long time before a real solid foundation of inner strength and belief is created.

10.30pm I’ve just come back from a date. Sorry for not warning you about these things in advance! It was arranged about a week ago. This is that guy Luke, who I met at my gay social event the weekend before last. We were clearly attracted to each other that first time, and I was keen to meet up with him again, to see where things would lead, despite knowing the whole dating thing is a thorny issue for me at the moment. We met tonight in the East End of London, on Brick Lane, where I hadn’t been for about three years. The last time I was there, I was with friends from University, very drunk. Going back was a strange experience for me. I never thought I would experience Brick Lane sober; it’s not the type of place I’d normally hang out. Luke and I went for a quick coffee, then we walked around looking for a good place to eat. As Luke knows Brick Lane better than me, he led the way, and we ended up walking for about twenty minutes, unable to agree on anywhere at first. In the end we found ourselves in a hilariously bad fast food joint where the chicken was very boney and there were no menus. I knew of better places in nearby Aldgate, where I am based at University, but Luke wanted to stick to Brick Lane this evening.

 Conversation at first was natural and flowing, but as time went on we both grew increasingly quiet. I was preoccupied with deciding how I wanted the night to end; did I want to go home on my own, or did I want to stay with Luke? The sensible part of me knew that going home by myself would be the right action to take, but my physical side wanted to go for the other option.

 By the time we’d finished dinner neither of us was speaking much. All of a sudden I felt uncomfortable, and I wanted to leave. We had only been together for about an hour; it seemed a shame to bring everything to an abrupt end, but in my gut I knew that things weren’t going well. Dinner had been awful, and we weren’t talking any more. I became convinced that Luke must have gone off me, and so I didn’t want to try any more. I thanked him for dinner and came home at 9 o’clock, telling myself I’d be amazed if I ever hear from him again.

 I’m pissed off with Luke and even more with myself right now, I can hardly write about it. But I have to. What the hell went wrong? Recovery has taught me that I need to be honest and get to the bottom of things when I’m not feeling right, so this is what I’m trying to do. What has upset me tonight? To be totally honest, I can’t remember a single date I’ve ever been on where I haven’t come home feeling miserable or angry afterwards. I laughed a little when I realised that on the train home.

 I’m upset because the date seemed to begin so well – as dates usually do. I couldn’t understand why Luke suddenly went quite halfway through dinner, but now I think I might have an idea what went wrong. I talked about being poor far too much. Luke mentioned some of the countries he had travelled to recently, and I kept saying stupid stuff like: ‘I’d love to go there, if I could afford it.’ I probably gave such a bad impression of myself, and it probably didn’t help that I didn’t offer to pay for anything. He probably went home thinking I’m some kind of gold digger. Stupid, stupid me.

 My higher power is telling me I’m analyzing things way too much, being too negative. Maybe Luke hasn’t made his mind up about me yet, or maybe he really likes me. I’d have no idea. If I wanted to be adult and normal about this, maybe I’d try and think of all the things that went well tonight. I suppose it was interesting to eat somewhere I wouldn’t normally eat. I guess it was good to get to know someone a bit better. Luke’s an attractive, intelligent guy with a lot to offer, that much I can tell. Would I like to see him again? Yes, I most definitely would.

 I’m really frigging angry that I can’t be positive in any way about tonight. This is why I’ve avoided dating for months, because I can’t bloody handle adult relationships. I can’t stop analyzing everything to death and I can’t stop getting over-attached. The reason why I went on the date tonight is because everyone I’ve spoken to says I should not be depriving myself of affection, as I have done for eight months. I really believe it’s natural for humans to pair up with each other, and by avoiding seeing men for so long I’ve torn myself apart. I can’t not go on dates when they come along – but what’s also evident is that I have no romantic skills whatsoever. I don’t know where to start in relationships, I wouldn’t know how to be part of one.

 Anyway, when I got home I sent Luke a message online, thanking him for dinner etc. It would have been rude not to. If I wanted to give the impression that I wasn’t interested in him, I wouldn’t message him at all – but that’s not the impression I want to give. I won’t sit here waiting for him to message me back. If I never hear from him again, so be it. At least I’ve tried.

 You just know it’s going to be like this every time I go on a date. My head isn’t going to stop being screwed up, until I’ve gone out and got some real experience. My problem is I’ve spent so long running away from things instead of experiencing them properly. Tonight could have gone a lot better, but at least I went through with it, completely sober. Can you imagine how disastrous it would have been if I’d been drinking?!

8 months, 3 days

My sponsor says that I don’t need to worry about the alcohol content in my deodorant. I haven’t had a slip. As long as I get rid of the deodorant and check the ingredients on anything I buy in future, then I can keep my sobriety date of 15th July 2007. Phew! I knew he’d say something like this. It just goes to show, you can find alcohol in virtually anything. Though I knew I’d be in the clear, it was a worry nonetheless, and it made me realise how precious that sobriety date is to me. If I’d had to go back to one day sober, I might have killed myself. I’m being serious. This is why I don’t relapse, why I’m determined not to drink again. I don’t think I could bear to go through the first eight months again. I’d rather leave AA than sit in a meeting and announce that I’m a newcomer all over again. I know many strong people who’ve relapsed and come back to AA and done the steps a second time. I don’t want my recovery to be like that, I want to keep it as it is.

 The new literature still hasn’t arrived for my home group. I was dreading tonight’s meeting, knowing I’d have to confront Arthur about it at some point. He was supposed to phone me last week to let me know what was going on, but he didn’t. When I arrived tonight, he was there, and he told me he’d sent another order form off. Fingers crossed, our new literature will have come by next week. I’d rather have sent the order form off myself this time – JUST to be sure – but it’s out of my hands now. The truth is, it’s Arthur’s responsibility, he’s the one to blame if the books still aren’t there in a week’s time. But I will undoubtedly continue to worry about this and feel responsible. I’ll probably lose yet more sleep leading up to next Tuesday, be restless and irritable that I can’t take control of the situation. It’s up to my higher power what happens next. I should be able to trust that everything will be OK, because logically it WILL be OK, in the end. But still I have real problems letting go of these things.

 I wanted to share tonight, as I realised that I hadn’t shared in any meeting for over a week. But there were a lot of newcomers in tonight, and all of them had to share as the format of the meeting dictates it, which meant that there was only time for one non-newcomer to speak in the last five minutes, and it wasn’t going to be me. At the very end the secretary handed out sobriety chips as usual, and this week I was able to pick up my eight month chip. I’ve picked up all my chips bar one at that meeting, and this month while the secretary was hugging and congratulating me at the front of the room he said ‘I’m so proud of you, Josh.’ It was a kind-hearted thing of him to say, but when I was going to sit down I couldn’t quite believe him.

 I don’t know the secretary, Jim, that well for a start, and I don’t see what I’ve done to be proud of. Yes, eight months is a lot more than some people get. But in my experience, only a close friend would say that kind of thing to me, and Jim definitely isn’t a close friend. The only thing I can possibly think of that I’ve achieved, other than eight months sobriety, is putting the literature out every week at the meeting. Maybe he’s proud of me for that? Or maybe he was just getting carried away with the moment.

 Even as I write this I feel silly. I know I’m wrong, I know he meant it genuinely. In my head I know it, but in my heart and in my gut, I don’t believe it. It takes a lot for me to believe anything deep in my gut. That’s where my progress in recovery should take me. On the way home after the meeting I felt rather tearful, because I wanted so badly to believe that Jim meant what he said, that he and everyone else there really likes and values me, but all I could think about was how little I’d done so far to be liked for. I thought of the literature table I’ve been setting up every week, how pathetic it looks now that there’s so little literature left. I thought of all the friends there at the meeting, the people I never talk to, the group I’m never part of. There was a moment at the beginning of the meeting when I was sat on my own in the corner, as usual, detached from everyone because I was so worried about the lack of literature, again. Is this a pattern doomed to repeat itself forever? Can I ever really feel part of things? Will I ever feel truly liked by people?

 I’ve been reading through my old diaries again, the ones that I’m currently in the process of copying to the computer. I should have done this a long time ago, but I didn’t, so I’m typing every single word up, and it’s a long and somewhat surreal process at the moment. I’m up to late 2001 now, the time when I left home and went to University the first time. I’d forgotten just how exciting that period in my life was. How new and fresh and daunting everything seemed to me. I wrote about opening my first bank account, getting my first mobile phone, learning to cook and wash for the first time. Though that was such a long time ago, and so much has happened and changed for me in the last seven years, it seems I’m back at that same point now, in a way. Though I’m about to leave University for good and enter the real world of work, I’m like that naive 18 year old again, because everything that’s coming up is new and fresh, and very daunting, just like it was in 2001. I don’t know what’s out there, what’s going to happen, how I’m going to look after myself. There are so many challenges ahead and I fear that I could really screw things up, like I kind of did when I left home seven years ago.

 Then again, back then I needed to screw things up, didn’t I? Otherwise I’d have never learnt. If I screw things up this time and end up having to rely on my mother for another seven years, maybe it’s because there are lessons I still have to learn. Hopefully, it won’t be that bad this time.