The picnic

I really hoped that the impromptu picnic that my home group had planned for this evening would go well. It was organised fairly last minute because the owners of the room where the meeting is normally held were redecorating this week. Luckily the weather was OK so we convened in Hyde Park this evening to eat lots of sweets and crisps. More people showed up than I expected to come. For an hour or so we chattered about everything except recovery. There were a couple of newcomers there, who we may never see again if they judge all AA meetings by tonight’s fiasco. At the end of the hour I managed to have another run-in with Ben, in front of everyone. He was picking on Earl for some reason, hollering loudly that he no longer wanted to be Earl’s friend. I tried to tell him to stop causing a scene; he blew up in my face, unsurprisingly. He’s a complete loose cannon these days. He told me rather aggressively to stop interfering in his business, and then he started shouting extremely personal things about me, mentioning my sexual problems which I had spoken about last night.

 It’s not what he said that really upset me, it’s the way he said it. He was almost on the border of being violent. He had been snappy with everyone earlier in the evening, but with me and Earl he was absolutely vicious, perhaps because we’re the closest to him. In the end I asked Ben never to speak to me again, which he said he would gladly do. When he’d gone I came very close to bursting into tears, and the meeting’s secretary Dennis kindly offered to look after me and give me a lift home. He was absolutely furious with Ben; he had no idea that the man had gone off the rails so badly. When I told him about the numerous other recent incidents involving Ben, he was shocked. He said that if Ben decides to cause any more trouble, he will ‘deal with it’. It’s good to know that I have friends who are willing to protect me; actually throughout all this my friends have been incredibly supportive and kind. It has been upsetting. I used to consider Ben a friend. Ever since we went to Bristol, I seem to have been caught up in all his problems, and now he’s taking things out on me as well as Earl. It isn’t nice. Many people have said that they find his behaviour draining these days. I find it very depressing. I don’t resent him for it, I know he’s very sick. A year ago I might have hated him, but I’ve done good step 4 work, and I know that resentment wouldn’t help me.

 When he was verbally attacking me tonight I had a flashback to my school days. Back then I was called names such as ‘freak’ all the time. Today Ben became the first person to call me a freak in years. But I wasn’t scared. I thought I would be, but I think I actually dealt with it well. I saw him picking on Earl and I wasn’t going to stand for it. I took his abuse and walked away feeling a bit shaken but not so upset that the whole week would be ruined. I don’t feel humiliated, like I would have done at school. I’ve changed.

 Everyone thinks I should stay as far away from Ben as possible, and I do agree with them. I can do nothing to help Ben now. He needs to be seen to by a doctor, as quickly as possible. None of us really know what’s wrong with him, whether he’s on drugs or if he’s schizophrenic. He’s certainly very unwell. He’s alienating himself from everyone in AA very quickly. The Big Book tells us to treat people in that state like we would sick friends; I really wish I could support him but he needs to want to be supported first. At the moment he doesn’t seem to know that there’s anything wrong with him, so he can’t want to get better right now. The first step to recovery is to gain insight into the problem. I’m beginning to think that Ben never had that insight. Apparently even his sponsor doesn’t know what to do for him any more. The problem is beyond the scope of the AA program.

 On that note, I am flying to Stockholm tomorrow for an international gay AA convention with Earl and some others. I think I’ve mentioned it before. I’ve looked forward to the holiday for weeks. I’m still very excited, despite tonight’s upset. I’ll be glad to have a week away from London, to be honest. When I get back next week I may have to see Ben in the meetings again and I may have to deal with him some more, but until then I won’t be thinking about him. I will be enjoying the Stockholm convention because I know that I deserve to. Whilst I’m there I probably won’t get the chance to write much. If so I’ll update this blog as soon as I return next week with all my exciting Stockholm news!

Last night an old-timer saved my life

As always, the highlight of yesterday was the meeting that I went to in the evening. Jobless and (temporarily) purposeless, meetings are the only important thing I’m doing with my days at the moment. Yesterday it was the step meeting in Soho where I make the tea every week. I don’t hate the commitment any more; I’ve been doing it weekly for six months and I think I’ve got used to it. The focus of the meeting was step 12 this week, a step that I really like even though it will be a long time before I get round to doing it. The reading about the step talks of the many benefits of the program, some of which I am already experiencing. I think I’m generally a more balanced individual than I was a year ago. I have all the friendship and support that the fellowship is supposed to bring. I don’t think these things would have happened if I hadn’t done the steps.

 I’ve had a number of spiritual experiences this year. In the meeting last night someone described a spiritual experience as ‘anything that’s not physical’, which is how I know I’ve had spiritual experiences even though I haven’t done step 12. Those genuine, real friendships that I’ve found in AA are spiritual to me; the hope that I’ve been given for the future is spiritual. You can’t touch or buy anything spiritual. It’s just something that happens, usually without you expecting it. I didn’t expect to get all those benefits from AA, but I did.

 I managed to share for the first time in weeks, although I felt nervous, because I knew I needed to start speaking out again. When I’m not sharing I’m not practising all the aspects of the program. I talked about my spiritual experience, and afterwards I got the support and warmth from the others that I always get when I share openly.

 Ben was behaving oddly in the meeting once again. I see him at all the meetings that I go to now, and if anything he seems to be getting worse. Our close friend Earl would like to think he’s getting better, but he isn’t. Ben was all over the place last night. He kept interrupting people’s sharing and when it was his turn to speak, he made less sense than he normally does. At coffee afterwards he was bouncing off the walls. We were sure he must have taken something. It wasn’t the behaviour of a sober person. It’s clear for all to see that his mental health is suffering, and nothing is being done about it.

 One of the old-timers, Clive, tried to challenge Ben about his condition, asking if he had seen his doctor recently and if he was taking any medication. Ben’s answers were brief and non-commital; he was too out of it to say anything meaningful. I feel more saddened than ever because I miss the person that Ben used to be. Last year he was very normal; he was quiet, collected and quite easy to be around. I don’t know who he is any more. At the end Clive told me that I will see this sort of thing happen a lot in AA. People come and people go; it’s life. It’s the nature of the illness. I’d love to see Ben get better; he might very well be back to normal if his doctor is seeing him soon. He might equally not get better. We might never see him again. Clive doesn’t have much hope for him. The way Ben is going, he’ll be sectioned soon.

 Clive kindly gave me a lift home in his van last night, and we ended up chatting about things for hours. When we got to my street he parked the van up and we sat talking and drinking tea until midnight. It was the conversation I needed to have. Since my current sponsor is only two years sober, I don’t get the chance to speak to people with that much sobriety very often. Clive is extremely sober; he’s been in AA for a long time and he’s seen it all, so to speak. He knows about psychology and therapy, and he knows about my problems as much as I do. He knows I’m probably not getting what I ought to get from my sponsor. We talked about this a lot, and he thinks I ought to find someone new as soon as possible. I’ve dithered over this for months, mainly because I don’t want to have to start the steps again. I’ve just spent eight months doing steps 4 & 5. If I had to do them all over again I might want to die.

 I feel like I’ve done some good step work with my sponsor this year. When we’re together we get along well enough. But we hardly ever see each other; it’s always been like that. Most of the people I know see their sponsors every few days. I don’t know when I’ll see mine again. 90% of the time he’s too busy. Clive seemed almost offended when I told him this. He said that no good sponsor is ever too busy to see their sponsees. I suppose it would be nice to have a sponsor who I can rely on at least once a week. It might also be nice to have a sponsor who’s also a friend. Clive treats all his sponsees like friends, and they’re all well over a year sober now, so it’s definitely a method that works.

 For a while I’ve known that I want a new sponsor by the end of the year, someone who’s much further into sobriety than me. I can even think of names who I’d like to ask. I just don’t want to do step 5 again, not now. It would be boring repeating it at this stage, and I don’t think I’d get anything out of it. So I face the same dilemma that I’ve faced all year. But after last night’s chat with Clive, I’m more sure than before that the relationship with my current sponsor isn’t working as well as it could. Everyone I’ve spoken to thinks I should change him.

 Clive and I also talked about sex last night. He’s one of those AA’s who think that being able to enjoy sex is part of a good recovery. I haven’t had a sex life to speak of this year, a fact that concerns Clive greatly. I’ve been aware for some time that I’m avoiding dealing with this area of my life, and Clive confirmed that for me. The honest truth is that sex terrifies me, it always has. I might as well be a virgin again. Lots of people say this when they come into AA, because they’ve never had sober intercourse before. I can’t remember when I last had sex sober. It was a long time ago, that’s for sure. 9 times out of 10 I was drunk.

 It’s another big dilemma because I really don’t know where I want to go from here. I could go looking for casual sex and satisfy my physical needs, but there’s a chance I might hate myself afterwards. There’s a chance I might become emotionally attached to my new lover and end up more miserable and alone than before. Clive realises that what I’m really looking for is love – until I find the man of my dreams I’m going to keep looking. Every man I end up with will be evaluated on how close he is to being ‘the one’, because that’s what I always did before.

 Clive tried to convince me in the space of two hours that I have to stop looking for ‘the one’ right now. It’s a pointless search that will keep me alone, because every time I try to turn someone into Mr Right I will ruin the chance of anything good developing. I’ve known this for a long time, believe me. What I find confusing is what I’m supposed to do, if I can’t enjoy casual sex and can’t actively look for ‘the one’ without risking self-destruction. Clive thinks I should forget about long term relationships altogether and learn to enjoy sex without all the baggage. One day I might meet someone who I happen to want to share my life with. The chances are I won’t find a life-long partner because most people who stay together for that long end up miserable.

 I know Clive is right, I’ve always known it, it just took last night’s chat to confirm it for me. All my life I’ve done sex and relationships the wrong way round: I’ve looked at every man and asked myself if I’m good enough for him, when I should have been asking: ‘is he good enough for me?’ The notion of romantic, everlasting love is just a fantasy that has been sold to me by television, music and films. I’m never going to have children, so why do I need to find someone to settle down with for the rest of my life? Why not enjoy whatever I can get?

 The fear of rejection has stopped me from approaching attractive men throughout my sobriety. Until I can get over that I’m not going to enjoy any physical encounters. I have to accept that I’m not ugly, that it will be fun if I just let it be. Basically I have to let go, hand it over. All year I’ve remained celibate hoping that I would learn something which would help me to finally meet Mr Right. Nothing has happened, and I can’t carry on living this way.

 A new, scary chapter in sobriety is starting for me. I suddenly find that I have this body which I’ve never used or enjoyed. Though the images floating around my mind right now terrify me as much as they intrigue me, I’m grateful that I was able to have that conversation last night. It dropped into my lap completely unexpectedly. I don’t think I’ve ever had a full length conversation with Clive before, and I’ve certainly never spoken to anyone about those things before. Clive has helped me in many ways; my higher power has provided me with what I need, once again.

Uninvited

I am not feeling very spiritual today. I’m pissed off because my fellowship friend Colin didn’t invite me to his birthday celebrations yesterday, and I’m also pissed off because Ben has gone into hospital, and I feel really guilty about it. When it comes to Colin’s birthdays, I know that he doesn’t like having big massive parties. He’s like me: the type of person to invite only a few close friends. I thought I was his close friend; I was there yesterday after the meeting when he invited several others to go and celebrate with him, one of whom was a newcomer to the program who I am sure doesn’t know him as well as I do. I almost half expected not to be invited, because I have a history of not being invited to things and getting really upset about it. Pictures from last night are splashed all over Colin’s facebook profile today; it looks like they had a great time. My illness wants me to be furious about this. My illness wants me to punish Colin by never speaking to him again. After today’s meeting I refused to say goodbye to him. I simply couldn’t help myself. Do I want to punish Colin? Is it really me who feels this way or is it just my illness playing with me again? After a year’s sobriety, I still can’t tell the difference between the illness and my true self.

 Ben’s latest relapse has come as more of a blow than I thought it would. Although he was clearly on his way to a rock bottom, given his behaviour in recent weeks, the fact that he’s in hospital today bothers me because I feel less able to help him than ever. He’s chosen to let me know what’s happened to him, so clearly he wants my help and support, but I don’t feel able to give it to him. He probably won’t like me for not phoning him immediately. We fell out a couple of weeks ago over the fact that I never pick up the phone to speak to him. It’s not just him who I don’t phone, it’s everyone, but he’s the only person who’s made an issue out of it. Anyway, I feel guilty because I shouted at him last week and now he is in hospital, in God knows what condition. My sponsor would undoubtedly tell me that I don’t have to phone Ben if I don’t want to. The fact is that I haven’t felt like Ben’s friend for a long time, and he’d be the last person I would phone normally. He shouldn’t be able to blackmail me into calling him, which is what he would be doing if he used today’s bad slip to try and make me pick up the phone.

 But I still feel bad for him. In fact I’m bloody angry. I sat through today’s meeting though I didn’t want to be there at all, I felt so low. It’s funny how anything can trigger off my sickness and make me ‘act out’. If I hadn’t got that text message from Ben today, I probably wouldn’t have ignored Colin and the others. I probably wouldn’t have felt upset at all. As it is, I slipped back into the old anti-social mode and isolated myself. I kept thinking: what is the point of being here? I might as well have been a newcomer again.

 I know all of this will sort itself out, which is why I’m not as upset right now as I might be. I’m glad I stayed in the meeting regardless of how I felt, and afterwards I was able to have a good chat with Andy about it all. There is at least some hope that I won’t feel angry forever. My step 4 work brought up the fact that getting upset over people’s birthdays is completely pointless, I know this, so I’m a little concerned at how resentful I was today. It’s like my old resentment against Colin had never gone away. I’ll probably be OK with him again tomorrow. Of course he doesn’t have to invite me to his birthday if he doesn’t want to. The problem is all in my head.

On the bright side…

I forgot to mention yesterday that my assessment with the psychotherapist went fairly well. I saw her first thing in the morning and we spent an hour talking about my life, the reasons for my anxiety and depression, and how these things are currently holding me back. I hadn’t expected to get any actual ‘therapy’ yesterday as the first session is always for setting the scene. I just wanted to know that I’d be put on a list for regular therapy, and by the end of the hour the doctor had assured me that I would be able to get a course, though I’ll probably have to be on a waiting list for a few months, and I’ll only get twelve weeks maximum with them. I wasn’t surprised by this news. Mental health treatment is, unfortunately, very under-funded on the National Health Service. If I wanted to see a therapist on a regular basis for years, I’d have to pay a lot of money for the privelege. At least I can get twelve weeks of constructive cognitive behavioural therapy for free. I might have to wait until next year but I’m not complaining. In the mean time, I shall have to use the skills I’ve got to be my own therapist.

 Last week I was praying to my higher power to give me the strength to start getting up in the mornings again. Until this week I was staying in bed until early afternoon on pretty much a daily basis, not because I really wanted to but because I was so tired all the time. So far this week I’ve managed to get up before 9am every day except today - my prayers have, somehow, been answered. It really renewed my faith in my higher power because I was pretty desperate to get back into that morning routine. Having got up at a reasonable morning hour I can get so much more done in the day. Every night I write a list of plans for the next day, and this week I’ve managed to complete all those necessary tasks that I wasn’t getting done before. Today I was unfortunately in bed until 1pm again – but it’s only Saturday, so I’m not scalding myself too much.

Purpose and direction

I’m trying to attend 90 AA meetings in 90 days because I want to see if I can complete something challenging and time-consuming. Because of anxiety and depression I’ve always had a problem with completing things and taking responsibility. So far I’ve been to a meeting every day for the past two weeks, meaning that I have about eleven weeks left. It hasn’t been too complicated or difficult so far. Daily meetings at least give my life some purpose. I’m hoping that by the end of this stretch I will be a bit more sorted. I’m hoping that I will have dealt with some of my insecurities inside and outside of the fellowship. I’m hoping, basically, that I will be in a strong enough position to turn my life around and give my career a kick up the arse.

 I can’t say that I feel in a strong position at the moment. I feel very much caught between two possible directions which my life could take. On the one hand there’s the pressing need for money, which has encouraged me to apply for jobs nearly every day for the past six weeks. I’ve gone for relatively easy but interesting office jobs which I think I might be able to tolerate for more than a week, as a safeguard. On the other hand, there is my life-long ambition to write stories, a dream which never dies. I’m trying to write the second draft of an exciting children’s science-fiction novel at the moment, but because I’m so concerned about not having much money, I can’t put all my energy into it. And for some reason, when my heart is not entirely in my writing, it doesn’t seem to work. In that state, everything I write is half-hearted and rushed. It only works when I’m happy and contented. The last time I had a real burst of creative energy was last September, when I’m sure I experienced my first spiritual experience in AA. Since then there has been a slow trickle of words coming out of my mind, but it’s hardly been inspiring. I want to finish this novel more than anything in the world. Whether it gets published or not is not so important, I just know that it needs to be written. Somehow, the idea of finishing a proper novel has taken on a great significance in my life. It’s almost like I won’t be complete until I’ve written it.

 The good news is that I actually finished the first draft, so the whole story is already there on paper. I’ve probably said before that all I need to do is fill out some of the characters as well as some of the imagery and description. The second draft is all about style, rather than substance. Unfortunately, editing in this way takes a long time, and most of the time I find it really boring. I know the novel won’t be finished until I’ve done it, though. Leaving the first draft as it was would have been like trying to sell the shell of a house. It wouldn’t have had any of the plubming, electrics or furnishing inside.

 I’m so drawn to writing, I wish I could just forget about work and do this forever. But the need for money continues to bother me like a recurring nightmare. The other day I found myself asking God what I’m supposed to do with my life. Why has it been so hard to find paid work this summer? Surely if I was meant to spend my time writing, then God wouldn’t have allowed my financial situation to become so difficult. Surely if I’m meant to get an ordinary job, God wouldn’t make it so difficult to find one. I know the saying ‘if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans’, so I’m desperately trying not to force my self-will onto this situation. I seriously want to know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. Why do I feel so stuck at the moment?

 In all of this, I suppose I hope that doing 90 in 90 will help me find some kind of direction. My sponsor is very pleased that I’ve finally decided to give 90 in 90 a go: he says it can provide you with answers when you can’t find them yourself. I’m not sure yet what answers I might find, if any. I think the main reason I’m doing daily meetings is actually to stop myself from going mad. If I was just sat at home this summer, doing nothing except worrying about the job situation, I’d lose my mind. At least in meetings I can talk about it and get some support and feedback.

The invisible tyrant

I’m feeling average at the moment. Nothing of much concern has happened in the past couple of days, though I continue to feel that low level of anxiety which tells me something bad is about to happen, an opinion based on no evidence whatsoever. I’ve started applying for jobs again after a bit of a break. I’m still looking at reasonable-paying graduate jobs, rather than menial low-skilled work, even though none of the higher level employers who I’ve contacted in the last month have shown the remotest bit of interest in me. It would be easy to think that I just don’t have the experience and abilities that these employers are looking for – but when I really think about it, I know I could do these jobs if I really tried. I don’t want some minimum wage, dead end job where the hours are endless and the rewards are invisible. I’ve done those kinds of jobs in the past and it never made me happy. Of course going back to work now will be hard, because I’ve been out of it for so long, but a good job with good pay and some meaning is sure to make it easier for me. I’m intelligent enough to get two degrees, so I must be intelligent enough to get a job that isn’t soul-destroyingly boring. I don’t mind stress; it’s boredom that does me in. I just want a job that has some enjoyment factor. It doesn’t have to be the most high-flying, top level job in London. It could be anything. I’ve only ruled out working in shops and places like McDonalds.

 Today hasn’t been a bad day or even a particularly brilliant day. I got up at 9am, for the first time in weeks. I can’t actually remember the last time I got up before 11am. For quite some time this bad lying-in habit has been a great concern to me. Every time I stay in bed late, I manage to waste most of the day because it takes so much time for me to actually wake up properly. When I get up early, like today, I can do something useful with my time. Today I managed to apply for jobs, do some shopping, and I even wrote a bit for my novel! I thought I’d never get back to that. This second draft is taking forever to finish. But at least it’s going again.

 Tonight’s home group meeting was OK. We’re running out of literature again, so I’ve had to put in another order. This time I’ve made sure that I’m sending the order off, because the treasurer is so unreliable. Last time he was so bad at chasing the order up when it didn’t arrive, that we had to wait three months for it to be sorted out. I’m not resentful at him for that – he has a busy life, which he just didn’t think about when he first agreed to deal with the order. Luckily we’ve both learnt from that experience, and with any luck the process will run a lot more smoothly this time!

 Ben’s odd behaviour is a continuing concern to everyone. He’s going to lots of meetings and sharing, which would be a good thing if the content of it actually made sense. He seems to speak less sense every time we see him. And then after the meetings he’s coming to coffee, which would be good as well, were it not for his giggling at inappropriate moments and references to sex in every sentence. When he’s there we all just end up focusing on him; that tends to be the way when someone is clearly unwell. I have no resentment towards him. Since Saturday we’ve actually been OK with each other – he hasn’t been aggressive or rude this week. Just odd. I feel very sad for him at the moment because there are times when he’ll say something deeply painful. Yesterday he was talking about pigeons for some reason, and he said that he felt like the underweight pigeon at the back of the flock which never gets to eat because all the other pigeons have got to the food first. I almost missed that vignette because it was mixed in amongst all the usual bizarre nonsense, but after he’d said it I realised that he had said something quite profound. Most of the time now he appears to be high as a kite, so when he says something like that it comes almost as a shock because you suddenly realise that he’s in a lot of pain.

 I really don’t know what to do for him, and it hurts. He’s not the same person any more. Somewhere along the line he has slipped through the net that was supposed to be supporting him, and he’s on this definite downhill spiral while the rest of us watch helplessly. The program doesn’t have an answer for his problem – as I’ve said before, there are certain things which AA just can’t help with. So I don’t know what’s going to happen to him.

 I’d feel more secure in my own recovery if I wasn’t so anxious about things all the time. That sense of impending doom won’t go away. I know they call it free-floating anxiety; it’s just a faulty emotional response to innocuous environmental stimuli. I’ve known that for months, but still I can’t seem to exert any power or control over it. I’m looking forward to the psychotherapy assessment which I have coming up this Friday. God, I hope they don’t cancel on me again. It’s not every day that I feel this anxious – the Prozac has definitely had some effect – but when the fear is on me, it’s like it’s never going to go away. I suppose that should confirm that I really need therapy. It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that I can’t move on with my life until I have dealt with this. It’s very much part of my spiritual malady. Last night I read the bit in the Big Book which says that material/economic success never comes before spiritual health. So I guess that means this employment problem that I’m facing won’t be solved until I’ve made some spiritual changes, i.e. worked on my anxiety. It all comes back to fear, that invisible tyrant which has practically stopped my life in its tracks.

Sunday

It’s been a pretty lovely weekend, only marred by the behaviour of my former friend, Ben. His behaviour is becoming increasingly difficult to deal with, and there’ve been a number of unwanted run-ins between us. Yesterday after the meeting in Notting Hill he demanded to know why I had been ignoring him all week; when I told him that I had been upset by his rude and obnoxious behaviour on Monday, he tried to turn it back on me saying I’ve upset him by refusing to pick up the phone to contact him. He was insulted by the text message which I sent to him last weekend, that half-hearted invite to my birthday meal. I tried to explain that I rarely phone anybody because I still don’t like doing it, but he wasn’t prepared to accept that as an excuse. He thinks that as one of my ‘close’ friends, he should be hearing from me immediately whenever I have something planned. He told me I had no right to reject the hand of friendship just because I’d been bullied at school years ago. By this point I had no arguing left in me, and I had to run to the toilet to stop myself from exploding.

 It was getting very heated, and I didn’t want to be in that position. He’d confronted me in front of everyone for the second time in a week. It was just horrendous. In the toilet I struggled to convince myself that I really had done nothing wrong; in the end it was clear to me that I had nothing to feel guilty about, given his shocking behaviour. I don’t have to phone anyone, not even my closest friends; there’s no rule to say that I owe them that. It’s not even as if I would consider him a close friend. Ever since his big relapse in Bristol I’ve felt very uncomfortable around him generally. A phonecall is a ridiculous thing to throw a hissy fit over. But I know he’s not doing it out of spite – he is clearly very unwell.

 His behaviour in meetings recently has been equally disturbing. Yesterday he threatened to attack a newcomer just because they shook his hand too roughly. His sharing in meetings has been bizarre and nonsensical for the past few weeks. He’s beginning to resemble Don, the infamous AA member who has turned up drunk at every meeting for the past few years. It’s a worrying resemblance, especially since Ben was one of the more ‘normal’ members until recently. Last year I considered him a friend; he was quite nice to be around. Today in the Soho meeting he was laughing out loud at inappropriate moments, like when someone was talking about their aunt’s death; he was obviously away in his own world for the whole hour and a half. Everyone can see it now. At coffee after the meeting he was the main topic of conversation in the group. He has gone downhill extremely rapidly this year. People who’ve known him for a long time seem sure that he has more problems than just alcoholism. It seems almost obvious now that he’s not getting the help that he needs.

 The Ben who confronted me yesterday was not the Ben I knew last year, he was a different person. I don’t know what to do any more. I don’t know whether to be kind and caring, or keep my distance from him. I guess my sobriety should come first in my life, therefore I have to keep my distance, to protect myself. If I get any more involved, I could end up really hurt. I feel bad saying that, but what can I realistically do for him? I’ve only been sober for a year. I’m not his doctor. I’d like to be a good friend and support him, but it’s not the right thing for me to do. The one positive in all this is that I haven’t developed a major resentment, like I did the last time I fell out with someone in the fellowship. I can understand a bit of what Ben is going through, and that may affect my future behaviour towards him in a positive way.

 Apart from that, it has been, as I said, a great weekend. I went dancing with a number of friends from the fellowship again last night. Today I saw them all at the meeting and we all had a good chat over coffee afterwards. Dean and I are friendlier than ever; he is becoming one of the best friends I’ve ever had. After that I met Neal for dinner and we also had a nice chat over pizza. The sun was out, and everyone was smiling, including me. My friends are now more important to me than ever - I still feel so lucky to have them.

 Today is one of those days when I seem more trusting in the fact that they will be there forever. In the past, Sunday was my least favourite day of the week just because there was never anything to do, consequently it would always be pretty depressing. Sundays throughout my childhood were fairly forgettable. But it wasn’t like that today. I’ve actually had fun today, and it could be any day of the week. That gloomy ‘Sunday feeling’ hasn’t bothered me for a long time.

Anti-climax

That bleak melancholy which I started to feel on my first sober birthday pretty much continued today. I managed to get up slightly earlier than usual today, at 11am, which is better than 1pm and much better than 2pm, but still not early enough for me to get much of use done during the day. I went to the meeting in Central London that I never used to like and there I saw familiar faces, but I wasn’t instantly put at ease by the loud music coming from somewhere next door, which went on throughout the entire meeting, and I thought I had made a mistake in going out at all. But then I realised that I could make myself feel better by sharing, which I did right at the end, because it’s been a while since I understood that my feelings of negativity come entirely from within me. They have nothing to do with loud music coming from next door, or people being rude to me on the Underground. I have a choice in how I feel, though I’m only just starting to accept it.

 So I shared pretty much the same thing that I shared in yesterday’s meeting, about this constant insecurity which I have concerning my friendships and why people really like me. Afterwards several people came up and told me how much they loved me, just as Dean did yesterday, which was really nice. I went across the road with them to eat pizza and it was an OK few hours, but that niggling doubt still won’t go away. Will I ever be able to fully trust what my friends say to me? I suppose not, otherwise I wouldn’t be an alcoholic.

 I think all of this is made worse by the fact that I am suffering a big anti-climax following my first sober anniversary. I’d built it up so much in my head over the last few weeks, that anything after it was bound to be something of a let down. I shouldn’t have built it up that much, but then again you only turn one year sober once. I’d have to have a relapse to experience that one year excitement again, and I really don’t want to go down that route. So that’s it, the year has gone and I have to move onto the next one. This time last week everything in my life seemed so wonderful, when I was waiting for that anniversary to arrive; now nothing seems that exciting to me, though I’m sure it will again one day. I definitely need the program more than ever, so I’ve decided to plough ahead with 90 meetings in 90 days. I tried this last year but couldn’t be bothered to continue after two weeks. It will be testing to do it now, especially if I manage to get a job, but I think I need to do it. It’s just another challenge to conquer, and let’s face it, I’ve conquered many this year already. I’ve been to a meeting every day since Saturday and I have them lined up every day for the rest of the week, so that’s the first 10 or so in the 90 sorted out. It only seems difficult in my head, something I’m quickly learning not to trust any more.

Being liked

Seeing as I’m over a year sober now, I don’t think I’ll count the days in the blog title any more. Although it’s one day at a time in this program, it’s been a while since my day count was important to me, which is a sign of lengthy sobriety I suppose. It still hasn’t sunk in that I’m over a year sober. It’s really crept up on me, which is strange considering I’ve been thinking about it for months. I’ve decided to take the one year sobriety chip everywhere with me from now on. It really is a nice chip; it will mean a lot to me. Already I feel safe just having it on me. I clutched it at several points today to calm my nerves. I’m terrified of losing it, I’m so clumsy by nature. Realistically I shouldn’t lose it, given that I’ve never managed to lose my wallet or keys or phone in sobriety.

 I realised this evening that I hadn’t shared in any meeting for over a week, so I went to the meditation meeting in Soho which I’ve always liked, determined to open my mouth. After the ten minutes’ meditation at the beginning, which I found useful because it gave me time to think of what to say, I spoke about this constant anxiety that I seem to have about not being liked. I talked about yesterday’s anniversary meal, which was marred by the niggling doubt that no one really wanted to be there. I found myself blurting out that I thought they’d all just been there out of politeness. There were three people in the meeting tonight who had been there yesterday, and I really didn’t want them to hear this stuff, but they heard it anyway, because I couldn’t stop myself. I made myself more vulnerable than ever, because that’s what you have to do in AA, you have to be honest, even if it hurts. I said things such as: do my friends really like me? Do they just feel sorry for me? Why do they like me? And then I realised that I have absolutely no idea what my friends like about me. I tried to think of one thing, but I couldn’t. After all this time, all this self examination, all this sobriety, I’ve only just realised that I don’t know what’s good about me.

 After the meeting Dean came up to me, hugged me, and said: ‘Josh, I love you, and I was at your meal yesterday because I wanted to be.’ He sounded very sincere, and I believed him, I really did, but even that’s not enough to take the doubts away. I’m still left wondering why he and all the others like me. What’s great about me? I’m not funny, witty, particularly brainy or even attractive. God it’s been a long time since I’ve beat myself up like this. I realise how stupid I must sound, but it’s how I feel, and it really concerns me that I still feel this way. It’s like I’m having a one year sobriety crisis. These feelings have never gone away, they were just hidden, waiting to be exposed by me peeling away another layer of the onion.

 If anything was going to cheer me up, it should have been ‘Mamma Mia’ the movie which I was due to go and see with Neal at the cinema after the meeting. I loved the theatre show earlier this year, and had been looking forward to the movie for ages. It’s a great movie, very enjoyable, colourful and camp. Just my cup of tea. I felt a lot better afterwards – I really missed going to the cinema in my drinking days – but I still have this lump in my throat now because I can’t think what’s good about me. I still can’t believe that my friends, who were there for my meal yesterday, will be there forever. What’s to stop them from disappearing eventually, like everyone else? More than that, what’s going to convince me once and for all that I actually deserve to be happy? When will this pit of self-loathing and self doubt close up? It hurts so much, staring into a pit which seems to have no bottom. And I still can’t cry.

One year sober!

2pm Well I’ve done it, I’ve lasted a whole year without a single alcoholic drink passing my lips, proving in the process that sobriety is not only possible but desirable. I wouldn’t swap my sobriety for anything now and I would never want to go back to how my life was before I gave up drinking. I’m so happy! If it weren’t for Alcoholics Anonymous I definitely wouldn’t be here, and for that I am eternally grateful. I know AA isn’t the answer for everyone, but it was for me, and I thought it wouldn’t be. I never thought in a million years it would be possible to last a year without a drink. I remember reading Sharon Osborne’s autobiography a few years ago, in which she talked about her husband Ozzy getting sober in the rooms, and she mentioned the party that was thrown for him when he reached a year sober. At the time I thought: ‘How did he do that? Why would anyone want to go a whole year without any form of intoxication?’ But there was always secretly an envious part of me, and I have had that image in my mind all year, the picture of Ozzy Osborne celebrating his first sober anniversary with sober friends. It was always a lovely image, and today I will finally have my own celebration. Later I will be meeting friends in town for a meal. Only a small group of very close sober friends have been invited – I didn’t want the stress of organising something huge. When I’m ten years sober, I’ll do something big!

 Only one thing is tainting today’s happiness. Ben, the guy who relapsed when we were in Bristol last month for the gay AA convention, has deliberately fallen out with me. He’s not happy that I didn’t immediately invite him to today’s anniversary meal when it was organised a couple of weeks ago. I sent him a text message the other day letting him know the time and place; I thought that would be enough. I wasn’t really sure that I wanted him at the meal, but he’d found out about it and so I couldn’t not invite him when he asked me about it.

 At yesterday’s meeting he stormed in furious, informing me that he wouldn’t be coming to my meal after all because an invite by text message wasn’t good enough. He wanted to be invited properly two weeks ago, in person. He was rude and obnoxious yesterday, saying things like ‘that’s no kind of fellowship, Josh’ and ’some friend you are,’ whilst pouring himself a coffee that I had bought and prepared for the meeting. I was instantly reminded of how sensitive I am, as my mood plummeted and I almost burst into tears. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did I really deserve this?

 I spent most of the meeting feeling absolutely furious. Afterwards Ben deliberately volunteered to help with the washing up so that he could have another go at me. I’d almost had enough, I nearly chucked the dirty mugs at him. In the end I refused to speak to him. I simply walked out and left him to do the washing up with someone else; he was being unbearable. On the way home I racked my brains to think of my own part in the problem, and I realised that I hadn’t been entirely honest with him. I should have told him from the start that I didn’t want him to come to my meal, that I just wanted a small number of very close sober friends there. Instead I went with my people-pleasing instinct and sent him a shoddy text invite. He’d obviously realised that he wasn’t wanted at the meal, and so threw a hissy fit in front of everyone. It was embarrassing and rather disturbing.

 Of course, anything I might have done didn’t warrant his extreme behaviour yesterday. And it was very extreme. Sure, he can be upset about not getting an invite straight away, but that’s no excuse for throwing a tantrum and verbally abusing me. So I no longer consider him a friend, unless he comes to me with an apology. Perhaps I’m being harsh, perhaps I should view him as a sick friend, which he really is. But I have felt uncomfortable around him for weeks, ever since his nightmarish behaviour in Bristol, which is precisely why I didn’t want him at my meal today. He’s completely unpredictable and erratic these days. It’s my meal, and I only want sober people there. Ben isn’t sober at all.

 I’ve tried not to let this ruin today, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Should I try and contact him to clear the air? Should I ignore him forever? I’ve spoken to people about it, and most seem to think I should simply take no notice. I’ve never been someone who can ‘take no notice’, though! If I was capable of turning the other cheek I’m sure I wouldn’t have been an alcoholic. It really pisses me off that this has happened now. I shouldn’t care so much, but I do care because ever since we went to Bristol together I’m involved in his life. I know more about him than most people in the fellowship do, I know why he’s behaving this way, because I’ve behaved like that myself in the past! About six years ago I was very upset when someone at University didn’t invite me to their birthday party. I decided to send a series of vicious, nasty text messages to the whole group, telling them how hurt I was and how shittily they had treated me. Today I can see how I was entirely to blame for that situation; isn’t Ben just doing what I used to do, when I didn’t know better?

 He’s become so unpredictable, I have a horrible feeling he’ll turn up at the meal tonight to cause a scene. I really pray that he doesn’t. If he does I’m going to have to confront him, something I’ve never been able to do comfortably before. I don’t do confrontations!

 At the end of the day, my sobriety is the most important thing in my life, and I guess anything he does can’t take that away from me. The difference between us is that I get the message of the program. I truly get it, which is why I’ve been so desperate to reach this milestone for months. I hope I can stay sober for the rest of my life. Despite the small number of run-ins that I’ve had with people such as Ben this year, the overall happiness that the fellowship has brought me this year is something that I want to last forever. The longer I’m in the program, the more I realise that it’s what I was always looking for. I’m off to have a good happy cry now!

10.30pm The meal this afternoon was lovely. Eight of us enjoyed really good food in this great, friendly restaurant before heading to the Hyde Park meeting which I’ve gone to nearly every week in my sobriety. I knew I was amongst true friends, and I couldn’t wait to announce my anniversary in the meeting. When we got there I made my announcement as expected, and got a great round of applause as we usually do on anniversaries. I would like to have shared, but the meeting was so busy and full of newcomers needing to share more, that I didn’t get the chance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that busy before. I’d like to think it was down to me, but it was probably just because of the lovely weather!

 Ben was there, and unfortunately this brought my mood down quite a lot. I tried my best to avoid him, but at the end he came to congratulate me on my sober milestone like some sort of friend, and asked if I was going for coffee. I automatically said ‘no’, because I really didn’t want to be round him. It doesn’t matter if he wants to forget about yesterday and be friends again, he pushed a button in me and he shouldn’t have done that. Every time someone is rude or abusive to me, it takes me right back to the bullying that I suffered at school, and I can’t get over it. I don’t know if I will ever get it. I feel the same fear around Ben now that I used to feel around those boys at school for years. I wish I could switch this fear off, but it’s a very deep wound, possibly one of the deepest. I’m welling up just thinking about it. Today has been completely marred by those dreadful memories. I nearly burst into tears on the bus home. For a moment I thought about leaving the fellowship, something I’ve not thought about for months. I wanted to punish everybody by walking away and never seeing them again. That’s how bad this illness is – after a year I’m still capable of feeling this low, this horrible. And so I know that I need the meetings more than ever. Since I’m not working at the moment, I should probably start going to two a day. I know I’m perfectly capable of that, it’s just a case of making sure that I get up in time every day.

 The good thing about today is that I’ve been able to have a conversation with my mother about being a year sober. Before I came into recovery we literally never talked about anything, we were almost strangers. I don’t want it to be like that any more, and so for the past few months I’ve tried to tell her how things are going for me. It’s not always the greatest conversation, but she knows more about me now than she ever did, which has got to be positive. She seems glad that I’ve made it to a year. She’s not the most wordy of people, to be honest, so I don’t know exactly how she feels about it, but she must be relieved about it. I wasn’t the same person when I was drinking, I was a monster back then. Not any more.