11 months, 14 days / behaviour

Today didn’t get off to the best of starts. I was booked in to do a shift for the voluntary work that I have done all year, and not for the first time, I didn’t feel like going in. Last time I did a shift about a month ago I had a panic attack and had to come home before I’d finished for the day. I was terrified of the same thing happening today, because it was so unexpected last month – the shift had been going so well, it really came as a shock to feel that way after nearly a year of doing the work.

 This morning I couldn’t stop thinking about all the negative consequences of another panic attack on shift, so in the end I decided to stay at home, resolving to make a donation to the charity to make up for the latest let down. I also decided that I would no longer continue with the work. I’ve done it for the best part of a year and not once have I enjoyed a shift, I’ve always been so nervous. I think I realised today that my other commitments in life don’t make me so nervous, because I actually enjoy them. On Friday night when I was speaking to people on the phone as part of my other voluntary role, I felt like I was enjoying myself, like I was getting something out of it.

 Of course the work that I have done one Sunday per month for the past year is equally worthwhile, and a lot of people would have been affected by my no show today. I could have gone in for one last shift quite easily - I should, dare I say it, have gone in. It wouldn’t have killed me to give a couple more hours of my time, but as usual, my head was telling me that it would kill me. When I’m in the middle of this panic all I can think about is trying not to die. Running away is such an old behaviour, such a usual thing for me to do. All sense of perspective goes out of the window in those situations.

 I’ve made a rather significant donation to the charity which I probably can’t afford, and I’ve been honest with them about not being able to work for them any more because of the panic attacks, which has eased my conscience somewhat today. Where do I go from here? Well I know my sponsor would tell me that any regret is pointless because I’ve done the deed now, I’ve made the decision not to go in again and I have to live with it. I will live with it. Will it happen again? I can’t guarantee that it won’t. I thought I would have got over this persistent fear of panic attacks as soon as I started taking medication to deal with them, but that hasn’t been the case.

 As part of my ‘amends’ I also decided to share about the situation in the meeting that I went to this afternoon. My relationship with my higher power has provided me with many answers recently, and today I realised that as well as making a donation to the charity, I ought to own up to what I’d done within the safe walls of AA, to let the world know because I wouldn’t be able to move on otherwise. So for the first time in ages, I shared in a meeting about having done something wrong. I said that I had run away from responsibility once again, had chosen to hide under the covers rather than get up and go to work like I said I would.

 There had been a lot of sharing about anti-depressants in the meeting, and so in the second part of my share (which happened to come right before the end of the meeting) I talked about anti-depressants, admitting for the first time that I take them every day. I’ve never shared about it in meetings before because I didn’t think it was relevant or appropriate, but today it was appropriate because people were talking about suicidal friends who had been advised not to go back on Prozac because it would ‘compromise’ their sobriety. Talk like this always annoys me because at the end of the day, AA is just a bunch of alcoholics, not medical professionals. No one has the right to tell anyone that their sobriety would be compromised by a medication that tackles feelings which can drive someone to suicide, not even someone with thirty years sobriety.

 So I said that I had been taking Prozac every day for nearly seven weeks, and I said that it was helping me, and that I’m not ashamed of it. Although I still deal with anxiety and depression on a daily basis, I don’t think they’re as bad as they were – something’s certainly changed. I felt empowered by my sharing today. I don’t think I was that person twelve months ago, the person who shares in that way. I was more honest today than I have ever been, and I walked out of the room with my head held high, despite the feeling that certain people were not so impressed by my honesty.

 I know how sober I am and I still love being in recovery in the fellowship. I hope I always will be. Yesterday I volunteered to become the new secretary of the meeting in Notting Hill that is one of my favourites. At the moment, I look forward to serving that meeting for the next year. I’m certainly moving onto the next stage of my sobriety, of my life. I’m still grateful.

11 months, 13 days / summer is here

I’m a bit stuck for what to write here, only because I haven’t written for four days and my orthographic skills are always a bit frosty after a break. It’s been a good few days. I made some really good progress on step 5 with my sponsor on Thursday night. We decided to meet in town for once as we both had social nights out planned afterwards. We’ve come very close to the end of my resentments list; just one more session should do it, then we’ll cover my sexual inventory, then that should be it. There were a couple of embarrassing moments when I had to talk about resentments that I’ve developed in AA, against people that my sponsor knows. Obviously he was fine about it, reassuring me that it will all remain confidential. Those people are among my closest friends in AA now, so the resentments that I encountered in early sobriety are undoubtedly irrelevant to my life these days. I’ve let go of them.

 I’ve realised that the fact my step 5 work is taking so long will benefit me when it comes to steps 6 and 7. I know what all my character defects are now and I’m already praying for them to be taken away on a daily basis. I’m not saying that to boast, I’m just pointing it out to myself because up til recently the slow pace of my step 5 work was annoying me. Now that I’m near the end of it, nearly six months after I started, I can see that it will really help me in the long run. I’ve always been glad of the opportunity to do it with a good sponsor.

 When that was over on Thursday I headed over to one of the main gay ’scene’ bars to meet some fellow volunteers from the unpaid phone service that I’ve been working at for the past few weeks. I wanted to take the opportunity to socialise with them, firstly to see if I could, and secondly to get to know the people that I will be working with. Only four of us turned up in the end, which was disappointing, and because I was the only one not drinking, it wasn’t exactly the best night out I’d ever had. People actually seemed shocked when I announced that I didn’t drink – I hadn’t encountered this yet in sobriety. I guess I’ve spent so much time with fellow AA’s this year that I haven’t had much chance to encounter it.

 Thursday was OK in the end. I got to know some of my colleagues a bit better, so I’ll probably be more confident in this line of work from now on. I can’t see myself socialising in bars much more this year, though, to be honest. They are rather boring places; I’ve got so used to socialising in cafés that I feel much more comfortable in that environment now.

 Yesterday was a pleasant day. I spent most of the afternoon with Dean and Andy. First we went to a lunch meeting in Soho, then coffee afterwards, where we chatted affably for several hours about life, love and sobriety. I absolutely love the camaraderie between the three of us; I can’t believe we’ve been friends for nearly a year. In my life pre-sobriety it was surprisingly rare for me to stay friends with anyone for more than a year. In AA, Andy is part of the class of 2006 while Dean and I will always be class of 2007. They are the two people I feel closest to in the fellowship. When someone suggested going on holiday later in the year I was thrilled. It would be my first sober holiday with anyone other than Earl.

 When I found out that Dean and Andy were going to Ibiza this summer with a bunch of other people I couldn’t help feeling a little left out, though I knew that I would probably have been invited on that trip had I been present at the initial discussion. Because I was there yesterday, I was present for a discussion about a possible holiday in Gran Canaria over the Christmas and New Year period. It’s a beautiful idea, and after a quick internet search we found that a fortnight’s vacation on the island wouldn’t be too expensive. Hopefully it will be booked in the next few weeks. That’s if nothing drastic or bad happens! I don’t think we’re going to fall out with each other, but you never know with alcoholics. Maybe that’s just my paranoid illness speaking, I don’t know.

 Yesterday evening was my latest shift at the lesbian & gay helpline in North London. My supervisor for the evening hadn’t been at the social gathering on Thursday, so I hadn’t had the chance to meet her and make her out. Last night would be the first time we met, and my initial impressions were of a rather loud, gregarious, foreboding woman who has been in this line of work for a very long time. Quite scary, you might say, but we got on OK in the end. For the first time I got to take a call by myself, which was nerve-racking but ultimately rewarding. Many of the people calling the helpline are youngsters trying to come to terms with their sexuality; I spoke to a couple of people going through that last night and I really felt able to connect with them, having gone through the same experience (albeit a long time ago). I left the shift feeling confident and happy with my work – it’s a good start on the road to becoming a therapist, which I hope to be one day in the distant future.

 The weather has been gorgeous again this week, so I hope to get some outdoors walking action done at some point this weekend. I’d also like to continue with the second draft of my novel, which was going really well when I left it the other day. I feel that I’m closer to finishing a good novel than I ever have been; it’s really exciting. At the same time I’m sure I’ll be keeping an eye on the Wimbledon tennis championships, something I’ve always enjoyed following even though I’m the least sporty person I know!

11 months, 9 days / bad faith

My mood continues to be sour for no reason in particular. Actually, there is a reason, but it’s nothing new. I’m still looking for work; nothing is showing up yet. I don’t know if it’s because my CV is rubbish or simply because employers in London are really bad at getting in touch. I’ve been worried about finding work all year, to be honest, so it’s no surprise that this is on my mind today, nearly a month after I finished University.

 Another thing worrying me is that my appointment with the therapist tomorrow has been cancelled. They haven’t given me a reason why: I’m waiting for them to find me another appointment. It’s annoying because I was really looking forward to that meeting, even though it would have been just a general assessment. It was nice to know that I would be seeing someone, to talk about my problems properly. Maybe I’d pinned my hopes on this appointment too much, maybe my higher power is trying to tell me something. I don’t know.

 As it is, I’ll probably have to wait another month for a free slot to appear, and in the meantime will have to deal with my depression alone. It’s really becoming unbearable again. I don’t think the Prozac is working any more. I probably need my dosage upped, but I’m too scared to go to my doctor to ask about that. I’d use the AA program to deal with the problem if I thought there was anything in there that could help. At the moment, the only thing I can see in the 12 steps that relates to depression is that they encourage honesty – at least I’m aware of how I’m feeling now and some of the reasons why I feel this way.

 Because of the mood I didn’t enjoy tonight’s home group at all. Unfortunately I was asked to stand in as co-secretary as the usual person is away on holiday at the moment, which meant that I had to sit at the front of the room and act as if I really wanted to be there. It’s a newcomers meeting so it probably wouldn’t have been appropriate for a regular like me to appear unhappy. I did my best, and afterwards people were coming up to me to congratulate me on how well I’d done. But I couldn’t believe what they were saying – I felt so self-conscious whilst in the hot seat and was sure that I must be giving off nervous vibes throughout the meeting. The group went for coffee afterwards as usual and I tagged along as they now literally expect me to go with them. Which is nice, I suppose. At least my company is wanted. We had a good chat in the café but the whole time I felt like crying, and I still feel like it now, though I probably won’t.

 I’ve tried to take my mind off my horrid mood in the past couple of days by writing. While I’m out of work I’ve realised that I have the time to get back to my novel, so this week I’ve been going through the first draft and adding things here and there, filling out characters, improving description and imagery, as I was doing up until earlier this year. It’s going OK at the moment and I’m sure that the second draft will be finished soon enough. Maybe I’m not meant to get a proper job, maybe this is going to be my vocation. I can but dream!

 I’ve been in touch with my father again and I’m hopefully going round there next weekend for some sort of meal with the family. I feel OK about that at the moment. He sounds genuinely keen to see me again, which has come as a nice surprise. I’m sure I’ll be extremely nervous next weekend on the way down there. I have to get to know my father and my brothers all over again, having not seen them since 2003. It’s going to be tough, whatever happens. I’m going to need to keep faith that my father will make it easy for me. He never did before.

 It’s sad that at the moment, my life seems to be so lacking in faith. If I had any faith in a higher power, surely I wouldn’t be feeling so shitty about things tonight. All I can see in my foggy, miserable head is a bleak future with no real serenity. How can I change this? How can I stop this depression from eating me up on my own? I don’t want to have to rely on pills and therapy for the rest of my life. I want to be able to help myself! I feel like I should know how to do that by now, after all these years and all these things I’ve learnt about myself. I know why I’m depressed, so why won’t it go away? Am I missing something?

11 months, 8 days / the weekend effect

I had a lovely weekend. I spent most of Saturday not doing much, until I went to the Notting Hill meeting which is one of my favourites. There I identified hugely with the chair and was able to share about my fears regarding sexuality and acceptance, which seemed to come up at the end of last week. At the end of the meeting the secretary announced that his year of service was coming to an end, therefore the secretary’s position will be up for grabs in the next few weeks. I felt instantly drawn to the job, I don’t know why. For a while I’ve had the feeling that taking on these big service positions in AA will be good for me. I would like to have been secretary at my Tuesday home group first, but the position there isn’t available until next year. It’s funny that this meeting in Notting Hill is the one I hated the first time I went there last July. Back then I never thought I’d return to it; today I couldn’t feel more differently about it. I think it’s a sign of my general change in attitude towards AA. I don’t really hate meetings any more – I have an open mind towards all of them in terms of how much I might enjoy them.

 After the meeting six of us went off to Gavin’s flat in the East of London for a night of card games. This had been arranged a few days previously and when it came to Saturday evening I wasn’t really looking forward to it, though I knew I ought to go. Some of the people there, such as the AA newcomer Joe, had been getting on my nerves a bit in recent weeks with his constant negativity about people who have done him down in life. I know it’s just because he’s new to the program and we all go through that stage in early days – and I realise how patronising I’m being by saying that too.

 I went along to Gavin’s flat anyway because I was in a pretty bad mood and knew that going home alone would make me feel worse. When we got to his apartment we were all struck by its sheer plushness. He had a top floor balcony with a view of Canary Wharf and the old Millennium Dome – it was breathtaking. None of us wanted to move from there all night. Our card games were hugely fun and entertaining; I hadn’t played cards since my school days and so was glad to have the opportunity to learn the rules again. Joe, along with everyone else, was in an effervescent mood so there was no negativity to be endured, for once. I came away from the evening feeling newly content with life. I had a good set of friends whose homes I was sure to be spending much more time in, doing things such as this.

 Sunday was similarly nice, over all. Early afternoon I went to Earl’s office in central London so we could book flights to Stockholm together, for an intenational AA convention which is taking place at the end of July. Neither of us can wait for the trip: it’s going to be wonderful. Given that I never got to travel anywhere before my early 20’s, I feel like I’m currently being repayed by my higher power for all the travelling that I missed out on before. I love travelling now, seeing new places, discovering new cultures. I never want to stop.

 After that I went to meet Neal in Soho Square where we sat chatting in the sun for a couple of hours. Then at 4pm there was the Covent Garden meeting, which I’d not been to for about two months. I saw lots of friends there and it was nice to be in familiar surroundings after a good break, but because it was so hot I managed to doze off towards the end of the meeting. So I didn’t hear much of what was actually said. After that I went for coffee with the group in the usual place on Old Compton Street, where we all chatted and laughed into the early evening. It had been another gorgeous day and once again I felt that periodic contentedness, which has definitely been with me more in sobriety than any time before. I seem to love Soho much more than I ever did. I said before that I love its colour and vibrancy, things that I never noticed when I was drinking there.

 Despite such a good weekend I still find myself feeling fairly downbeat today. I’m not sure what is bringing me down today. It’s that old anxious-depressed package of feelings that have become ridiculously familiar to me in adulthood. When I feel this way, my illness convinces me that it will never go away, which makes it seem so much worse. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not looking forward to the meeting later, where I will have to make the tea as usual. I don’t know if I want to see or speak to anyone. But today I must.

 The other day when I was feeling so great, I realised that the anti-depressants were working for me and part of me felt a bit sad that I might never experience extreme emotions again. Even though the deepest sadness is horrible to endure, when I was under the impression that Prozac would take it away I think I realised that I might miss it. Maybe it’s good for me to have these extremes of emotion, maybe it would be bad for me to just feel one way – normal – all the time. If this weekend has proved anything, it’s that the mood swings definitely haven’t gone away. I still want to go to the psychologist on Wednesday and talk about dealing with my excessive anxiety, but I’m beginning to think that my life would be less rich if I somehow discovered how to eliminate emotions altogether.

11 months, 5 days / aware

I opened up my father’s e-mail reply straight after finishing this last night, and I was surprised to find it very positive in tone. He’s happy to meet up again; in fact he seems quite positive about the idea of me becoming part of the family again. I may be going round there for a barbecue in the next few weeks. He has made it clear that he doesn’t want to talk about the past, and he’s also pointed out that he doesn’t want any ‘emotional baggage’. He just wants us to be friendly and informal with each other. Which I suppose is better than nothing. At least he didn’t dither about replying to my e-mail – he wouldn’t have replied so quickly if he wasn’t interested in seeing me again.

 But it’s clear that he still doesn’t want to be my father…or maybe he does, it’s hard to tell. In his words, he’s an unemotional person, and he’s not good at saying how he really feels. I can understand why he’s scared of emotional baggage, there’s so much of it in my family. But could I be happy with a ‘friendly and informal’, unemotional relationship? Do I want more? If so, what more do I want? It’s hard to say. I’ve never known what it’s like to have a father so I can’t say how I’d actually like our relationship to be.

 I’ve definitely got the best result this week – considering I hadn’t even spoken to him for three years, he might not have bothered to reply to me, or he might not have been so glad to hear from me again. Perhaps it’s better that this time around, I go into our ‘relationship’ with no expectations. Seven years ago when I first met him I expected everything, and I ended up getting very little from him. Maybe in years from now, if I’m prepared to work at it, I will actually get to know him and grow to be an important part of his life. That’s the difference between me now and seven years ago – I wasn’t prepared to work at anything back then.

 Despite having a fresh new potential relationship with my father to look forward to, I have continued to feel rather down in the dumps today. I don’t really know why. The job hunt is still going slowly, and I’m still worried about my degree result, but it’s not like today was worse than any other day on that front. It’s been a very normal day, except that I’ve attended two AA meetings because I needed to get out of my problems so badly. In the first one I didn’t speak because I didn’t know anyone there – it was a meeting I’d never been to before, which I didn’t mind, as I feel quite comfortable in all meetings now. A year ago I wouldn’t have been able to walk through the door if I didn’t know anyone in the room, so tonight at least I can take comfort in the fact that that’s changed.

 In today’s second meeting I did share, and I talked about my general low-ness, which should have helped, but afterwards I seemed to feel worse than ever. I couldn’t face going for coffee with the gang so I came home, feeling overly anxious about nothing in particular. Free-floating anxiety, I believe it’s called. The fear of impending doom. God, I hate it. I thought I was making such progress with it, but I seem to be going through another one of these down periods, like a few weeks ago around the time of my final exams. I think the anti-depressants must play a part in this because before, I never really knew when I was in a down or an up period. These days it’s very easy to distinguish between the two, and I suppose it’s good that my mood is more stable now, so that when I’m down or up I know it. I don’t go through every possible mood in the space of a day any more.

 Thank God I have an assessment for psychotherapy next week. I can’t let this depression rule my life any more. When I feel like this I just don’t want to do anything. It’s like having a bad migraine, without the physical pain. I literally struggle to move sometimes. But in a way it’s a comfort that I’m so aware of this now. In my drinking days I was aware of nothing. Any vague signs of awareness would terrify the life out of me. It’s different now. I’m aware today, and I’m ready to do something about it.

11 months, 4 days / what next?

3pm At this moment things in my life are going well, but as usual I am consumed by panic and depression, because my illness wants to live in the unknowable, uncertain future. All day I’ve found it difficult to do anything except lie in bed and feel sorry for myself. I just want to go back to bed and sleep forever. For some time I’ve known that my over all degree classification is on the borderline between a good and a bad grade, but for some reason I’m really concerned about it today, in fact I can’t stop thinking about it now. It is absolutely vital that I get an over all classification of upper second class, otherwise I know I will not be able to pursue my chosen career in Psychology. If I hadn’t screwed the second year of the degree up so badly I wouldn’t be in this position, but as it is I am in it, and I don’t know if I’ve done enough to bring the grade up from lower to upper second class. I definitely haven’t done enough to get a first class mark (equivalent of A grade), not even a divine miracle would make that possible – so I must settle for upper second class (equivalent B). A lower second class (C grade) would be no good to me, because the competition in the graduate job market is currently too fierce, and I already got a lower second class grade in my first degree, which didn’t get me anywhere career-wise four years ago.

 It’s so depressing, I literally feel stuck in limbo. Our final marks won’t be published until the 2nd of July. That’s only two weeks, I hear you say, but because I’m an alcoholic with anxious and depressive tendencies, two weeks currently feels like too much. A small voice in my head is saying that this shouldn’t be happening, I’ve been on anti-depressants for over a month and for the past fortnight or so they have been working, pretty well actually. It’s just today that I’ve suddenly returned to my default state of tearful and fearful. I suppose it will be gone by tomorrow. I am seeing my sponsor tonight to continue with step 5, which always makes me feel better. But I don’t think this fear will be entirely gone until I have found out my mark on the 2nd July.

 At the start I said things are going in well in my life – that’s because, forgetting the Psychology degree, they are going well. I gave my seventh chair at a meeting last night, and for the first time I didn’t feel nervous about it. I was quite calm and serene as I spoke about my three lives: ‘life before alcohol’, ‘life during alcohol’ and ‘life after alcohol’, my current life. I felt completely at home in the meeting, though it’s not one that I regularly go to. So as far as AA is concerned, things couldn’t be better. I have friends in the fellowship who I know will always be there. Even if the faces change over the years, they’ll always be someone there to listen and understand me.

 I’m not even thinking about drinking today, despite how bad I feel. The problem with being a recovering alcoholic is that alcohol tends not to be the only problem that we have to deal with. Life tends to be the biggest problem to deal with, and right now I wish it would just go away. If I don’t get the mark I need in Psychology, I don’t know what I’m going to do. All my career plans involved Psychology. It’s so unfair because I have done really well on the course this year – it’s just last year, when I was still drinking, that I screwed up big time, and potentially ruined my career chances. I knew I was doing it at the time but I still went ahead and drank the night before that important exam, as I always did in those days. I said last night in my chair that my social life used to be more important than anything else, I say it in all my chairs, and it’s true – before recovery I couldn’t see any future for myself without alcohol and a thriving social life. Not that it was thriving in the end, it’s just that I thought it was because alcohol could make me believe anything.

 It would be ironic if the year of sobriety that I’ve had doesn’t turn out to be enough to salvage my dreams of becoming a Psychologist. If I can’t be a Psychologist then I’ll have to think of something else to do with my life. Writing stories was something I wanted to do from a very early age – but I have no idea if I’ll ever be good enough to make a career out of that, and I haven’t had any creative urges for quite a while. If I can’t make a career from my degree then what was the point of going back to University for three years, getting myself into twice as much debt? It would seem such a waste of time, just like my first degree was. I talked about that last night as well – how I couldn’t see a future for myself at the end of my Philosophy degree in 2004, but now I can because I’m sober and for the past year I’ve been able to fully apply myself to my studies. Maybe the only benefits I’ll end up taking from this degree are all the things I learnt about myself. Without Psychology I may not be sober now; I certainly wouldn’t know anything about anxiety disorders and what I can do to treat mine.

 I finally have an appointment with a therapist next week. I was referred for a psychological assessment a month ago by my family doctor. I thought they’d forgotten about me, but it turns out they haven’t, they just had to find the time to fit me in. Next week I will be assessed for therapy. I know I need therapy, if today’s black mood is anything to go by – I hope I can convince the psychologist of that. I may have to go on a long waiting list before I can start seeing anyone regularly. I don’t mind going on waiting lists, I just want to know that I will be able to see someone on a regular basis, to deal with this shit still in my head so that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life on anti-depressants. Some people take pills for years to deal with their problems – I definitely don’t want to do that, because I know too much about them. My problem needs a talking cure, I’ve always known that. Maybe this is what I will end up gaining from Psychology, rather than a conventional career like everyone else. I’ve undoubtedly changed as a person in the last three years since I began studying it. I wonder what changes lie ahead…as always, we’ll have to wait and find out.

9pm Just got back from an evening at my sponsor’s flat. Made some good progress with step 5. I feel a bit better than I did earlier today, though I can’t say my mood has completely lifted because I’m tired and a bit hungry, and I seem to have caught a nasty cough in the space of six hours. I’ve just remembered a nasty dream that I had last night, which might be the reason why I’ve felt so low all day. Ever since I left school nearly a decade ago I’ve had the same dream about returning there to face the bullies; it’s been months since I last had the dream but for some reason I had it again last night, and once again I was passing through those old familiar corridors, running away from God knows what, then at the end I was faced with those boys who had been in my class for years, who all hated me for the way I was. For the first few years after I left school I never dreamt about confronting them, but in the last few years I’ve found myself being increasingly defiant in these dreams. Last night I was properly standing up for myself, defending my sexuality, because that was the main thing they didn’t like about me.

 Despite being able to defend myself in my own dreams now, I’m still always left with a sheer terror every time I wake up, in the seconds before I’ve realised it’s just a dream and I haven’t actually left my current life to go back to school. Last night’s horrors were no different, and once again I’m left wondering why those demons still haunt me. Why am I still having the exact same dream, nine years after I last saw any of those people? Well, I’ve spotted some of them in London during the years since – it’s not that big a city – the most recent occasion being the other day. I’ve never spoken to any of them, though, because it would seem pointless. But still I dream about them, about the big confrontation that we never had.

 Am I still terrified by these demons because I still can’t accept myself? Am I still ashamed of my sexuality? Last night I was really defiant about it in the dream, I was almost rubbing it in their faces – does my sexuality still disgust me, all these years after I supposedly accepted it? Because I’ve studied Psychology and want to train as a therapist, I have to ask myself these questions, there’s no getting away from them. Someone normal might not need to think about it, but I’m in recovery now and I need to deal with these things, because I know they’re still holding me back. Now that my life is changing for the better and I am starting to accept myself, perhaps my subconscious is trying to tell me that there’s still work to do. Perhaps there are still parts of me that I need to accept. I’ve realised in recovery that I truly have a multitude of problems. There isn’t just one easy thing that I can tackle head on. There never is.

 Coincidentally, I got in touch with my father earlier today, for the first time in three years. Having received good feedback from my aunt Emily the other week about my idea concerning a relationship with my half brothers, I finally felt ready to send my father an e-mail today, telling him that I no longer have any hard feelings towards him. I understand now that he was treated badly by my mother, I can see exactly why he might want nothing to do with us. I wasn’t expecting a quick response, but having just got home I see that he has replied, and I’m too scared to open his e-mail now. I’m scared it will be another rejection. The truth is, I have no idea what he’s going to say, and I’m not sure if I’m actually ready to deal with the response. Am I in the right place to deal with it today? Might I be more prepared tomorrow, when this depressive attack has passed? Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know. We’re at the heart of my problems here – I’m dealing with the rotten core of my illness right now. Of course it hurts. I just want to know that it’s going to pass, I just want to know that I’m going to be all right.

11 months sober / Ben’s addiction

A few hours ago I returned home from the most meaningful weekend in my sobriety. I’ve been to my first gay AA convention, over in the West of England, with two friends, Earl and Ben. Earl has been a close friend since the beginning of my sobriety; we’ve already been on lots of trips together around the south of England. Ben is a good friend of Earl’s and while I’ve had many conversations with him, I never felt that I really knew him before this weekend. We set off from London Paddington early on Friday afternoon. A couple of hours later we were in the city of Bristol, somewhere I’d never been before. The great thing about being in AA is that you get to go to all these different places (providing you like travelling to conventions, that is!) I would never have gone somewhere like Bristol before, there would never have been a reason. Thanks to AA I’ve discovered that it’s a lovely city, with great architecture and character. Admittedly we didn’t see an awful lot of it because the weekend went by too quickly, but we saw some of it and I’m very pleased that we did.

 Quite quickly it became clear that Ben was not himself. I knew him well enough on Friday to know that he was behaving out of character. Normally he’s fairly quiet and reserved; on Friday he was loud and rather annoying. He kept saying things that didn’t make sense, laughing at his own quirky jokes, pointing at people and shouting. I was mortified to realise that he might be drunk; I dared not say anything in case my instinct was wrong. We went to the first meeting of the convention and apart from Ben’s inability to sit still, it was very good. We met and spoke to new people; I felt at home from the start, as I always do in AA. Having been to meetings all over the country I guess I’m long past the point where I worry about not knowing people.

 On Saturday things became very interesting. There were four meetings altogether yesterday; we were there the whole day and I was determined to share, to prove to myself as much as anyone else that I’ve made progress. I did share in the day’s second meeting. I can’t remember what I spoke about, but it made a lot of people laugh, which was nice. I’ve always felt a bit inadequate in not being able to raise laughs with my sharing; it can be quite depressing, whereas other more seemingly popular people can get people giggling hysterically on a regular basis. I know it’s not about becoming ‘popular’, it’s about being honest, and I’ve certainly done that this year. But it was nice to be funny for once, when I wasn’t even trying to be. Well you have to laugh at life sometimes!

 In the latter part of the day, Ben shared about his recent alcoholic relapses, and I was taken aback when he began to cry openly. I hadn’t realised how much pain he was in. Earl later told me that he’d seen it many times before. Ben announced that he was struggling but really wanted to stop drinking. Everyone immediately approached him afterwards to offer support, me included. I was rather proud of myself for managing to be supportive, rather than freak out like I normally would in that situation. It looked like Ben had made a bit of progress and I was pleased for him too. It’s not nice seeing someone cry, but on the other hand you know it’s helping them to get better, ultimately.

 Soon after that the all too brief convention was over. All day I’d been getting to know people and in the end I was really pleased to be able to exchange numbers with people who might be coming to visit London some time soon. Until recently I don’t think I would have been able to do that confidently. I’m sure the Prozac must be working for me now, because this weekend I’ve really felt like a different person. I’m saying and doing things without hesitation, for the first time in my life. It’s like a thick, weighty layer of awkwardness has been removed from me. I’m my real self now, and I feel amazing.

 Later on last night Ben wanted to check out Bristol’s gay ’scene’ with me. I didn’t think it would be a good idea, given that he had clearly had a drink within the past week, but he was determined to go, and I couldn’t stop him. For a while I was going to go out with him, to keep an eye on him as much as anything else. Unfortunately, the only gay bar that we knew of turned out to be miles away from the centre of town, down the bottom of a big hill which would be a nightmare to climb back up late at night. By this point Ben’s behaviour was also weirder than ever, as he tried to tell us about this drug dealer that he had moved in with. Alarm bells were already ringing in my head, and then finally he pulled this small bottle of vodka out of his bag which he admitted to consuming during the day. It broke my heart to see it, but I wasn’t shocked. I’d realised that he was drunk on Friday at Paddington station, I just didn’t want to make it true by saying it.

 In the past Ben has reached a year sober; by all accounts he was once as enthusiastic about the program as anyone could be in their early days. Sadly, for some reason, he has really struggled with it recently, and it seems he’s been drinking constantly for at least the past two months, all the while coming to meetings and not opening up about it. Yesterday he was not the Ben I knew. It was scary, mostly because he reminded of myself as a drunk. He told me that I shouldn’t be upset, I shouldn’t care about him so much because he doesn’t deserve to be cared about. It hurt me to hear those words, words which I must have uttered so many times in the past whilst completely intoxicated.

 Ben was still determined to go out clubbing but I just couldn’t face it in the end. I walked back to the hotel with Earl, who has always maintained that he’s ‘too old’ to go into any gay clubs. I felt dreadful leaving Ben to go off on his own in that state, and I knew exactly what was going to happen, which is partly why I couldn’t go with him. I couldn’t bear to watch him get wasted, and at the end of the day his sobriety isn’t my responsibility, which my sponsor confirmed when I phoned him for the first time in over a week. At this point I was so emotional I almost burst into tears for the first time in like a year, but even then I couldn’t shed a tear, not for the lack of trying.

 Earl felt that I had done the right thing too. I couldn’t risk my own sobriety by going to a strange nightclub in the middle of nowhere with a practising alcoholic. So we walked back to the hotel and talked about it into the early hours of the morning. In the end, neither of us knew what the hell we could do to help Ben. At this point it looks like only he can help himself. It’s a program for those who WANT it, not those who need it, and it doesn’t look like Ben really wants to be sober at the moment. One minutes he’s in tears, desperate to get sober, the next he’s pouring drink down his throat as if nothing else matters. I’m not at all angry with him, even though he has been very erratic and at times abusive this weekend. I feel for him because I have been there myself. To be honest, it could have been a lot worse, I know it could because I was often worse than what we saw this weekend.

 I was haunted by those memories of Edinburgh 2004, when I left my mother to go and enjoy myself in the pub, then returned to the hotel at 3 in the morning and woke her up so I could obtain more money to spend on alcohol. I was sure my higher power would punish me by having the same thing happen with Ben last night, but he didn’t. Ben apparently returned at 5 in the morning quite quietly. This morning he didn’t look or sound great, but he was OK, and I was able to tell him honestly but supportively that he would need to make changes to get better. Previously I might not have said a thing. I felt harsh saying some of those things, but I believe you have to be harsh sometimes to be honest. God, if people had never been harsh with me I may never have stopped drinking.

 I came home feeling that I knew Ben a whole lot better, which is one positive to take away from the weekend. Another positive is that I know how well I am and how much I’ve changed. I had no inclination to go out and drink with Ben last night. The thought of it actually horrifies me now. I love my sobriety, and I love AA. In thirty days from now, I will be one year sober, and I cannot wait. I turned eleven months today - how exciting, it’s literally crept up on me!

10 months, 28 days (spiritual Soho)

It’s been a pretty average couple of days. The weather here in London is going through another gloomy patch so today I’ve mostly been indoors, curled up in front of the TV. I’m also very tired because I’m not sleeping well at the moment. I know it’s because I’m still going to bed late most nights. I can’t seem to come home from meetings without logging onto the internet for at least two hours - it feels unnatural to go straight to bed when I’ve just walked in the door. I know I have to start doing it though because I’m really paying for the late nights at the moment.

 Yesterday was a bit nicer than today. I spent a couple of hours with Dean, drinking coffee and chatting in Soho, my spiritual home. Honestly I love Soho these days, even though I did most of my drinking there. I’ve seen a different side to Soho, and the rest of London, this year. When I was drinking I never went to coffee shops; these days I spend most of my time in them, and I love it. I love London’s vibrancy, its colour, its life. In my childhood I rarely ventured away from my drab home in North London; I remember when I started going into Soho around the age of 18, I was blown away by how exciting it was. Through my drinking I managed to get bored with it, but now I’m rediscovering that excitement, and it’s wonderful.

 I especially enjoy sitting in coffee shops with good friends such as Dean. We both have the same amount of sobriety and there’s an affinity between us; we’ve experienced the same difficulties this year and I think we’re both amazed to still be here in AA. Eleven months is a long time for young guys like us. For a short time I resented Dean because he seemed so much better than me; I’m very far away from that resentment today. Dean is just as insecure about things as I am. He wishes he could meet Mr Right tomorrow, like I do. He worries about people not liking him, like I do. We talked a lot about ‘popularity’ yesterday, what it means…sometimes I think I’m not as popular as my peers in AA, because I still find myself sitting alone in meetings occasionally, unapproached. Dean did his best to reassure me that I’m well liked by everyone, reminding me of all the recent social occasions I had been invited to, such as his barbecue last weekend. It was a really nice afternoon; I think Dean and I will always be friends. It’s so important to be able to trust in that. So many times in the past I’ve thought that people are my friends, only to find that after a couple of years they drift away, like everyone else.

 I don’t think friendship is that important to me just because I had a lonely childhood – I think social support is a basic human need. How do I know that after a few years Dean and others won’t just drift away, like many people naturally do in time? Well, I hope that at least a few of my current AA friends remain with me for a long time, because it will be nice to go on the long journey of sobriety with these people. There’s no doubt that Dean is part of my journey now. As is Earl, with whom I am travelling to another AA convention this weekend. I think we’ll always be friends, because this isn’t friendship like any other: it’s based on honesty and sobriety. It has a much firmer foundation than any relationship I’ve been in before.

 Last night when I left Dean he told me he would be cooking dinner for Andy; they would be watching the final of ‘The Apprentice’ together on television. I was planning to watch the same thing last night. I half expected Dean to invite me to join them, but he didn’t. We parted ways, and I went straight to a meeting, struggling to avoid resentment. In the past, a resentment would have developed so quickly because of something like that. I would still be feeling it today. Right now I don’t feel resentful because I know that Dean and Andy have a very close relationship, and they spend a lot of time together. It seems natural for them to go round to each other’s places for dinner; whereas I clearly don’t have the same kind of relationship with them yet. I’ve always considered Dean and Andy close friends in recovery, but I guess we’ve yet to reach the stage where we’re cooking for each other and watching television together. I’m not angry that Dean didn’t invite me over last night but it did bother me for a moment. Why haven’t we got to that stage in our friendship yet? When and how are we going to get to it? I don’t know the answers to these questions yet…maybe I need to make more effort to see them. Maybe it is possible for me to change things so that I can start having dinner at friends’ places more often; in the past that was always the kind of thing I would wait for other people to instigate.

 If it seems like I’m obsessed with the fantasy of spending time in friend’s homes, it’s because it’s one of those things I never really did until recently. Dean’s barbecue last weekend was the first time I’d been invited to any sober friend’s flat. Funnily enough, another friend in recovery has invited me to a meal at his place this weekend. Sadly I will be at the AA convention with Earl, so I’m going to have to miss it. I’d really love to have gone, because it would have been another one of those seemingly rare opportunities to bond with fellow alcoholics outside of AA meetings. When I hear old-timers talk about all the wonderful times they’ve shared with sober friends, on holiday, in each other’s homes etc, that’s the kind of sobriety I want, where I can do all those things that normal people seem to do all the time. I don’t just want to see friends in meetings.

 Hanging out with people like Dean in coffee shops is undoubtedly a good start to getting that kind of sobriety; heading over to his flat to watch TV and eat cheap food would be the next step. Oh, maybe I am obsessed with this idea a bit too much. I never had friends over as a kid, you see, and I never went to friends’ houses. I don’t know why it was like that. It was a childhood marked by a sheer lack of socialising.

 The good thing about all of this is that I’m not angry with Dean at all. Last year, I would have been fuming. I would have instinctively punished him by not talking to him again. Today, I can question why it bothers me so much that I’m not invited to every single social thing that he does, and I can deal with it. That is real progress, real recovery. The instinct to rely on other people for a social life and to punish them when they don’t meet my standards was such a strong character trait of mine before – my main character defect, if you like. Today I don’t want to be the person who does that. I don’t have to be.

10 months, 26 days (bad food and fellowship)

You’ll be glad to hear that today was a lot better than yesterday. I managed to complete half a job application this afternoon, which I was pretty pleased about. Tonight’s home group was fun. My friend Dean was doing the chair, and it was lovely to hear him talk about his experiences in sobriety because I’ve shared in most of them. A group of us at the front of the room all shared back to him in the latter part of the meeting about how much we valued his friendship. That to me is what fellowship is about. Afterwards we all went for coffee and had a great laugh in the café, at the expense of the poorly cooked food. I felt part of a group again – it’s a feeling I’ve experienced a lot more in sobriety than I ever did when I was drinking. Those people I was with earlier could end up being friends for life. Tonight I realised yet again that AA has changed my life completely. I’m still amazed that I can have nights like tonight. Before recovery, Tuesday nights were always completely mundane and forgettable. No day is forgettable in recovery. My life is fuller now than it ever was. I just hope I can get a job soon to complete the picture!

10 months, 25 days (elephant)

I didn’t want to get up this morning. I’m not sure why I felt this way. Out of Hungry-Angry-Lonely-Tired, all day I’ve possibly been the last three. I spent most of the afternoon asleep. I really hate Mondays. I should have been applying for jobs, but I haven’t been able to find the will to do it. This lethargy that I get with every depression is just horrible, it’s like my head is full of fog, and the most routine of chores can become like pushing an elephant up a flight of stairs. Strangely, I was glad to be able to go to my meeting and make tea tonight. It was something interesting to do on a totally mundane and otherwise forgettable day. I didn’t get to share because the meeting was so busy, but I was willing to speak, and I sat with a few of the regulars afterwards chatting over coffee. At least I could do that.

 I spoke to my aunt Emily today; last weekend I asked if she would mind speaking to my father about hooking me up with my half brothers. Today she told me that she thought the request would sound better coming from me. She already fell out with my father a few years ago because he accused her of interfering in our relationship. All she’s ever done is try to help, but he believes that none of this is her business now, so I’m the one who’s going to have to talk to him from now on. I know I owe him an apology – the last time I spoke to him three years ago I was very angry, understandably so because I didn’t know the full story of why he left my mother. Now I know that he wasn’t totally to blame in matters, so when I next speak to him I’ll owe him an amends. I’m not looking forward to it at all. I’d like to salvage a relationship with my half brothers, and if possible I’d love to become his son again – I have no hard feelings towards him now at all – but I don’t know what to say to him. It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen him for five years, and it doesn’t help that I still don’t know him as a person one bit.

 The good news is that we have the internet back at home. My mum was unhappy not having it here, so yesterday we went to buy a reasonably priced new computer. The one we’ve got now is nice and up to date, and knowing all I know about computers I’m sure I can look after it well enough to give it a chance of lasting more than three years. I would have thought having internet access back at home would have cheered me up, but of course it hasn’t. Computers are just material things at the end of the day – it isn’t going to sort my life’s problems out. All I can do is pray that tomorrow will be a more productive day. I must get up earlier in the morning, and I must get to searching for jobs. I must also be kind to myself, if I can.