Getting on

I think I may have been hasty in dismissing the benefits of anonymity yesterday. I still think it’s a better idea to talk about AA with friends than to keep it a secret at all costs - but when it comes to personal relationships, I seem to have realised that I have this tendency to blurt everything out in the beginning, before I’ve really got to know someone. My brief ‘fling’ with Alex in North London feels like it’s coming to an end, and I can’t help thinking that I gave him too much of myself too quickly. I told him all about my alcoholism and AA last weekend; I made a CD for him; I even gave him the first chapter of my novel to read through. We shared so much, it’s like we attached too much weight to the relationship before it had a chance to grow. Perhaps we overfed the flowers. We became so honest with each other so quickly, that the relationship turned into something serious before I was really sure that I wanted it to be so. Yesterday we met for coffee, as I was happy to see him again, thinking maybe I ought to give him another chance. It became clear that he wanted me to come home with him last night, and for once I didn’t want that. I had it planned in my head that I would be spending the night at home in my own bed. I don’t know why I feel more secure when I have these things planned ahead. Maybe I’m a mummy’s boy, but when I’ve told her that I will be coming home that night, I like to keep my promise.

 Alex wasn’t happy about this. He also wasn’t happy about the fact that I still couldn’t promise him I wouldn’t sleep with anyone in France. I have no idea why I can’t make this promise to him. Perhaps I wasn’t ready to commit yet; perhaps I wasn’t sure if he could fulfil all my sexual needs; perhaps I just didn’t like him that much. Anyway, we parted company rather early last night, and I went home fairly sure that I would never see him again. I’m not so upset about it. I think I got a lot out of that relationship, as I’ve got things out of all my relationships, even the really pointless ones. I liked Alex, but I didn’t get overly attached to him, and I was able to let go of him when it felt like the right thing to do. Years ago I would have been hugely disappointed at the death of another potentially great love affair. I would have spent weeks mourning that loss, utterly convinced that I’d never find anyone to make me happy. Today, I don’t feel anything like that.

 I had to visit the local police station yesterday, to make a statement about the incident with Ben a few weeks ago. I was the only true witness to the assualt on my sponsor, and yesterday was the first opportunity for me to make my statement. The police officer who saw me was incredibly nice and understanding, explaining that Ben wasn’t mentally unwell enough to be sectioned at the time, and he clearly wasn’t high on any illegal drugs. I said it was a shame that Ben probably won’t get the help that he needs - I really wanted this to be clear in my statement, I don’t want Ben punished or indicted, I just want him to be pushed into treatment because he’s clearly not going to push himself. But the lesson I seem to have learned from all of this is that Ben needs to help himself, nobody else can do it for him. The whole thing was really silly and pointless, he didn’t need to attack me and my sponsor, and he didn’t need to be arrested, but he chose to explode, and we all knew that it was him who made that choice. Part of his bail conditions are not to contact me, and to avoid the Monday night meeting. So I can at least feel safe from him, but this isn’t the resolution I really wanted. Well, I’m not a doctor, so I can’t sit here and diagnose him with mental health issues. It’s up to him. He’ll be charged with assault next week, then there’ll be a trial later in the year. I may have to stand as a witness. I’ve told the truth about what I saw all along, and I will continue to do so. He physically attacked my sponsor, and he can’t be allowed to get away with it. I will pray that whatever the outcome of this, it teaches him the lesson that he needs to learn.

 I’ve started writing a new novel today. For some reason, I only seem to get these creative urges once a year. The last novel is still stuck at the first draft stage; I don’t know when I’ll finish it. I felt the need to write something new today, and I’ve learnt not to ignore that need when it comes along. The new story is about a young gay man growing up in London, the difficulties and challenges he faces. It is partly auto-biographical, and it’s something I’ve really tried to write for years. I think, looking back on all those failed previous attempts, that I needed to do some real growing up before I could write about these things that I’ve experienced. I couldn’t write about coming out and discovering the exciting, scary gay world while I was still discovering it. I’ve done a lot of growing up this year, and at the moment I feel ready to write this story. It needs to be written. I can’t put pressure on it – there can be no deadlines. I have to write when I feel like writing; if I don’t want to write, then I can’t. This urge to write is a gift given to me by God; I don’t feel like it’s really mine. It’s up to God whether I write a good novel or not. I hope I can write it, because all I’ve ever wanted to do is write, really. I think about writing every single day. It’s unfortunate that I only feel that creative energy once a year, but I seem to need a great deal of inspiration before this can happen. Recently I’ve read a lot of great books, so maybe that’s where it’s come from. There’s no doubt that I have the time and space to write now. When I go to Nice next week, I’ll probably write on the beach. Writing is my first love; words to me are beautiful. The emotion that this makes me feel confirms to me that I need to write, always.

Choice and consequence

I was quite pleased with myself yesterday as I managed to fit a lot in. I went to two AA meetings, which will ensure that I keep up with my 90 meetings/90 days challenge. I’m about halfway through now, with 40 or so days left. It’s going really well. I think it will be strange when the 90 days are over and I won’t have to go to daily meetings any more. Most importantly, the first meeting I went to yesterday was one I’d never been to before, and the second was one I hadn’t been to for months. I wasn’t particularly nervous about attending either. That wouldn’t have happened last year.

 In between the meetings I went to the theatre with Dean as planned. It was undeniably awkward between us, as I already knew it would be. I was pretty angry at him on Wednesday, and that must have shown. Our friendship has changed this week, gone back to the way it used to be, before we really knew each other. There’s a distance between us again, and we can’t joke with each other in the way that we used to. The half hour before the start of the play was filled with stilted small talk and plenty of awkward silences. I didn’t like it. It’s going to take work for things to get back to the way they were, and I don’t want to put that work in because of my trust issues. What if he doesn’t like me any more? Reasons such as this stop me from wanting to work on all of my relationships, but I know I have to do that work because recovery has shown me that I will end up alone if I continue to behave in the old ways, not trusting and not putting effort in. Yesterday was an effort, and I made it because I didn’t want to let Dean down and I have hope that things may just get back to normal between us, eventually. It’s a small hope, but for once I’m choosing to trust the love of the fellowship rather than what my own cynical head is telling me. I’m choosing to go with it, to take the risk and trust again. Thanks to this choice, I was able to enjoy a brilliant, clever, funny play in the West End yesterday, and I didn’t have to sit at home on my own all day, thoroughly miserable in enforced isolation.

 In yesterday’s second meeting I managed to share about the horrible thoughts I’d had about drinking the night before. I expressed my feelings about Dean, without mentioning his name of course, and I talked about this trust thing, how difficult it is and how it may always be that way. I’m so glad I talked last night. It needed saying; nothing else would make it better. After a year’s sobriety, the power of sharing is one thing I can be certain of. What I’m also quite sure of now is that you can’t hide anything in AA. People would soon begin to suspect that I was on the way to a slip, anyway. There’s no rule saying that you have to be honest and share everything in meetings, but this year has taught me that honesty really is the best policy. Keeping things to myself doesn’t allow me to be true to myself. I wish I could talk to Dean and the others about the distance I now feel between us; maybe one day I will. If it’s meant to be discussed, it will be. At least there are places I can go to speak about it without being judged or criticised.

 Later last night I did a voluntary shift at the gay charity where I have been taking phones for the past couple of months. There were no calls whatsoever, unfortunately. Apparently it’s been an unusually quiet period for them recently. I don’t think they’re publicising themselves very well. There are so many people out there needing our help; we should be on the phone non-stop every night. I want to do this work because I do want to help people, and I want to help myself. The responsibility doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it used to, which must be a good sign.

 Today I was at a meeting where the main topic of discussion was ‘anonymity’. I’ve always known how important anonymity is in AA – I never share the personal things I’ve heard in meetings, and I never mention anyone’s real names. But that wasn’t the point of today’s meeting. The point was that we should try to avoid breaking our own anonymity – apparently. The daily reflections reading for August 29th says that we all want to shout from the rooftops when we first come into AA about how wonderful it is, that this is bad because it can alienate people who don’t understand alcoholism and AA. The meeting’s chair elaborated on this idea beautifully, and the rest of the meeting was all about people’s bad experiences of breaking their own anonymity. This has nothing to do with blurting to the papers about the latest celebrity that you’ve spotted in a room – this is about telling your friends and loved ones that you are sober, whether it’s a good idea or not. Most people seemed to think it wasn’t today. I don’t know whether that’s because no one wanted to risk disagreeing with the main chair, or because everyone really believes that it’s best to keep our sobriety to ourselves.

 I don’t agree that it’s always a bad idea to tell people that you’re in AA, even if they don’t understand. If someone is alienated by your honesty, surely you’re better off without them in your life? A lot of people today talked about mourning the friends they had lost over the years to this strange kind of alienation; if only they hadn’t mentioned AA, everything would be all right! What rubbish. I’m sorry, but I’d rather be honest and risk losing someone than keep the most important thing in my life a secret, just so I can stay friends with that narrow-minded person.

 Of course a careful balance has to be struck between telling everyone everything about oneself, and keeping everything a closely guarded secret. Neither way of living seems particularly desirable to me. I don’t go round telling everyone I meet that I’m in AA – I make a decision on a case by case basis, opening up when I think it appropraite or when it might actually help. By the same token, keeping everything important about myself to myself is not a way I’d like to go about life either. I spent the first 24 years of my life keeping it all to myself. Why should I keep my mouth shut on this issue, just because it might upset someone?

 I get the feeling this blog wouldn’t be popular with my AA friends, which is why I’ve never told them about it. I like having a blog because I like the idea of people not in AA hearing about it and getting some of its benefits. I don’t believe that the 12 step program should be just for alcoholics – I think people out there in the ‘real’ world should at least be able to read about it and see what good it can do. If the anonymity police had their way, perhaps no one would ever know about AA. Yes, it works by attraction rather than promotion. But if AA hadn’t been promoted to me by a kind person who happened to talk about their experience of sobriety on an internet forum, I wouldn’t be here today.

Rubbing it in

Today has not been a success. I say that because at the end of it I feel worse than I did yesterday. I managed to get up really late again. On the plus side, I’ve done some reading and writing today, hobbies that I have always found fulfilling in some way. But nothing really substantial has happened. Tonight I went to the step 11 meeting, where they meditate for ten minutes, and for the first time, it made me feel worse, rather than better like it usually does. Dean was giving the chair, and I felt too awkward to speak to him, as I found that I was still mad about his behaviour yesterday. He really pissed me off last night with his wisecracking. I knew I would only feel better by talking to him about it, but I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I didn’t know him any more. There was an invisible barrier between us, for the first time in months. The resentment I had last year has come back, only this time it’s worse because I’m supposed to be his friend now. I know him now – well, I think I know him – so why did he feel like a stranger tonight?

 We’re supposed to be going to the theatre tomorrow, and all through the meditation section I kept thinking of ways that I could get out of it. I’m sure it would be really easy not to turn up tomorrow. I could just tell Dean that I’m really ill and can’t get out of bed. There would be no reason for him not to believe me. It would be easy for me to do that because it’s a very old behaviour that has got me out of a lot of difficult situations in the past. It would allow me to avoid the issue, to get out of facing him and letting him know that I’m really angry with him.

 Of course, me not turning up would inadvertently let him know how I feel; it would punish him because he’d have to sit through the play on his own. Do I want to punish him? Of course I do. It’s the only way I know how to get my point across, sometimes. Sitting down and talking maturely about an issue is still an alien concept to me. It wasn’t in my upbringing.

 I nearly cried in the meeting tonight as I realised how dangerously insane my thinking had become. Could I actually lie through my teeth and let Dean down tomorrow, just because of a feeling? Could I be that childish? Well it wouldn’t be the first time. The play we’re going to see tomorrow, I’ve been looking forward to it for ages, and I’ve paid a lot of money for the ticket. It would be absolutely stupid for me to cancel like that. My sick head, unfortunately, is so tempted to do this. God, I’m so angry, and it hurts so much that I can’t tell anyone!

 I knew I ought to share in the meeting tonight. But I let the opportunity go, because everyone else’s sharing was so positive, I didn’t want to be the one to bring the mood down. I hate sharing negatively when everyone else is clearly so happy. Clearly, I missed the only opportunity I might have had to feel better tonight. After the meeting I tagged along to coffee, and Dean was there along with other friends. Even then I couldn’t talk honestly. Everyone had the usual questions about how my job search is going. It was horrible. Every day about fifteen people ask me the same thing – ‘any luck on the job front?’ – and I always have to say the same thing to them, i.e. ‘no.’ What a depressing word. I’m fed up of saying the same thing over and over again, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever have anything different to say. The job market is terrible this summer. I may have the rest of the year to find a job, I just wish I knew what was going to happen. I’m sick of this waiting, it’s really frigging demoralising. It doesn’t do anything for my confidence. I feel about as unemployable as I did a few years ago.

 So, what am I going to do about Dean? I may not feel so angry tomorrow, but I can’t say with any certainty that this resentment will disappear because it seems to come and go.  For the second half of my first year, it remained dormant; for some reason at the moment it is wildly active, and I simply can’t ignore it. On the way home tonight, I thought about drinking a lot. This is exactly the kind of thing that leads to a slip, I know it is. God, I need to tell someone. But I can’t! My sponsor is on the other side of the world, so he’s out of the question.

 It all comes back to the fact that I feel alone. I was left out of the group holiday last week, and I was left out of Colin’s birthday meal earlier in the month, and it seems like there are many other ‘fellowship’ things which I’m just not considered for. This time last year I hated Colin and Dean and their friends because they resembled the schoolground clique so much, and now I hate them again, after all this time, for the same reason. I desperately want to be included in their world, and for a while last year I thought I was being included. When I was invited to Dean’s barbecue early in the summer, I was amazed and happy, perhaps for the first time. Things like that make me feel worthwhile, validated if you like. It shows that I am part of the group. But then they go and do things without me, even though I’m supposed to be their friend. I really don’t understand what I have to do to just be remembered sometimes. It’s not like the five people who went on that holiday last week are particularly close friends. A couple of them said they hardly knew each other before. I would have gone on the frigging holiday if they’d just asked. As it is, I have to jet off to France on my own next week, just to get away from this sodding city and all this unhappiness.

 Am I too needy? Have I no right to be angry with so-called friends tonight? The thing is, I’ve felt this anger all my life. It’s a deep, deep wound and when I’m caught up in it I become so weak, so downhearted that I can’t see the point in things any more. I didn’t even take my jacket off in the meeting tonight, I was ready to leave at any point. When I look at Dean and others, I see a bunch of really strong, happy people who really get sobriety. Maybe it’s insulting of me to assume that they don’t experience any pain. I’m sure they have their ups and downs. But they can’t know what this pain is like. They’ve just been on the most amazing holiday ever, by all accounts. The photos are plastered all over facebook today. I detest them! Sometimes I wish I wasn’t in AA. It sickens me that I have to go through this. I can’t see any growth in what I’m going through. All I can see is self-pity, pride, dishonesty, self-centredness and arrogance. I’m still a frigging alcoholic and I hate myself.

Not OK

I’m pissed off tonight. A bunch of AA friends have just got back from a holiday in the Mediterranean, to which I was not invited, and they all look amazing. Their tans are beautiful, they had a great time, and I resent them for that. Why wasn’t I invited? I realized months ago that I would probably have been included if I’d been present for the initial discussion where they agreed to go away together. It’s just bad luck that I wasn’t there that time. This is what I had sorted in my head, right up until today when I saw them again. I knew the holiday was all they would want to talk about; I knew they’d look great after a week in the sun and I knew that they would have had a fabulous time. I wasn’t angry about any of it, until tonight when they showed up at the meeting together like a band of brothers, happy and joyous and free and frigging brown as toast. All of a sudden, I felt mortally wounded by their actions, and I didn’t want to be around any of them, even my closest sober friends Dean and Andy. Dean, who has a wicked sense of humour, constantly reminded me of how great he looked by rolling our sleeves up and putting his bronzed, toned arm next to my white, pasty one.

 He didn’t mean to really upset me, it’s just the way we’ve always played with each other. We could always say and do things to each other that others might find really offensive; we have very low boundaries with each other because we’re very close friends. I took all his joking tonight with a smile on my face, while inside I was seething. For the first time, I wanted to smash his face in. I wanted to storm out of the meeting and tell them that they’re no longer considered friends of mine. Not for the first time, I’m experiencing the urge to punish people who I feel have done me wrong. The idea of leaving AA has crossed my mind, yet again. If I was to disappear from meetings now, they probably would be quite upset, which is what my sick head wants. I want to hurt them like they’ve really hurt me.

 The sad thing is, I didn’t think it would hurt me this much. I thought I was over getting hurt by things like this. But clearly I’m not, so what am I supposed to do now? All my sodding life I’ve been hurt by one unintended let down after another, and I never know whether I’m allowed to be upset or not. Just like everyone I ever knew before recovery, my first sponsor would have told me that no one owes me anything. I have no right to be angry because being invited on holiday isn’t a token of someone’s love for me. Well, that’s what my first sponsor would have said. I don’t think I believe it at the moment.

 When Colin didn’t invite me to his sober birthday meal earlier in the month I went through a couple of days of silent mourning, and I haven’t felt very fond of him ever since. Tonight I feel like I never want to speak to him again. He’s right in the middle of that clique, and I am so jealous of him. I’m jealous of all of them. I want what they’ve got, I want to go on frigging holidays with people in the sun and I wish I could just tell them. How sad is it that I’m going to France on my own next week? I was looking forward to it, but now I’m painfully aware that my motive for booking the holiday was to make up for not spending that week in the Med with my friends.

 I’ve told people that I’m going away on my own next week; some have said things like ‘oh, that’s nice…’ with glazed looks of horror in their eyes. Others have said quietly that they’re not sure they could ever do such a thing. No one really thinks it’s a good idea, I can tell. I want to go to Nice next week and have a great time, just to show them that they’re wrong, but I don’t know if I’m capable of it. Wouldn’t it be better with friends? The trouble is I couldn’t find anyone to go with. How sad, and pathetic, and tragic my life is.

 You’d think after a year’s sobriety, it would take something big to bring me down into this pit of despair again. Someone said in a meeting the other day that it’s the small things which get us, and I think they were right. I don’t want to drink tonight, but I want to do something to get me out of my f***ing thoughts and feelings. I’m so angry, and I know they’ll know because it will just show in time. What I’ve learnt this year is that you can’t hide feelings, no matter how much you try. The anger will subtly seep out in my behaviour, perhaps slowly, perhaps quickly. When I made that bitchy comment to Joe a couple of weeks ago, that was the first sign. I can’t keep this in, it’s too important. I want to tell someone, but how the hell do I do it? Is it what they really want or need to hear?

 Last night was so lovely, with my sponsor and Clive, I felt even happier than I did in Sweden, when I was amongst so many true friends and so much fellowship. How can I feel so low now, just 24 hours later? Because I’m an alcoholic, you keep saying. What would the program tell me to do with this anger?

1: Write it down – I’ve done that

2: Tell someone – who?

 My sponsor is flying out to California in the morning, so there’s no possibility of getting hold of him right now. I’d share about it in a meeting, but the problem is that the people I’m angry with go to all the same ones as me. The gay fellowship is big, but not that big, in London, unfortunately. I won’t drink tonight, and that’s all I can do.

Calling the shots

Although it’s Monday it feels more like Sunday, probably because it’s been a public holiday here today. Those things tend to pass me by, having never been in a full time 9-5 job where days off really count. Hopefully that will change soon, though the job hunt is going as painfully slow as ever. I’ve had a really nice weekend anyway. On Saturday I took the meeting in Notting Hill, and asked someone who has just turned six months sober to give the chair. He has always shared really well and I think he has an inspiring story to tell. For six months sober, he is oozing with gratitude, and it was nice to hear him that night. I was a little stressed out during the meeting as I have recently been entrusted with the keys to the room, and at one point it looked like they had gone missing. I had no idea who could have taken them. In my mind I imagined getting into all sorts of trouble, being forced to cancel the meeting forever. Of course by the end the keys had reappeared miraculously and everything was OK again. It’s nice that people trust me enough to give me the keys to look after, but I think I’ll give them back to their regular keeper soon because I have enough to worry about as it is!

 Yesterday I went to the Covent Garden meeting, which was unusually empty as a lot of regulars seem to be on holiday at the moment. It was a nice meeting nonetheless. Afterwards I travelled North to meet Alex again, and like on Wednesday we ate dinner, watched a Bette Davis movie then went to bed. I had decided that I knew him well enough to tell him some important things about myself, so in bed I told him about my alcoholism, the fact that I go to AA nearly every day and that I have not drunk for over a year. He took the news remarkably well. He doesn’t drink much himself, and is one of those people who never saw the point in drinking ‘to get drunk’. He seemed a bit blown away by my description of AA as a big, fun social network; I guess he only knew it as the last chance saloon for drunken washouts that you see on TV.

 Our conversation progressed to such a level of honesty that I started to talk about my sexual dysfunctions and the problems they have caused me. Now that we’re ‘officially’ going out I thought it would only be a matter of time before he found out anyway. We ended up chatting well into the night about it. I found it very hard to explain at first. I realised that I didn’t really know why I had always been terrified of sex. In the end I came to the conclusion that I’ve spent so long avoiding it and living in fantasy that I’ve warped my perception of what’s enjoyable. I told Alex that recently I have been attempting to shake these fears off by meeting men in Stockholm and London etc; at this point he seemed to become a bit uncomfortable. It didn’t take much effort on my part to get him to admit that he doesn’t want me ‘playing the field’ while I’m going out with him.

 This made me equally uncomfortable, as it occurred to me that I didn’t know him well enough yet to want to make such a commitment to him. He knows I’m going to France next week and he now has the idea in his head that I’m going to find someone out there to play with. I tried to persuade him that I’m not going to France to look for sex – I’m not that kind of person! – but I couldn’t promise him that I would turn a gorgeous French guy down if one happened to come along. By this morning Alex still hadn’t got over my unwillingness to make a promise. He told me that in the past he has dumped partners mercilessly when he was no longer happy with them, telling them in no uncertain terms to f*** off. I found this admission a bit difficult to swallow, and I returned home this afternoon completely unsure about how I wanted things to proceed between us.

 Part of me thinks I’d like to see him again; part of me thinks it could really work between us. We have such a lot in common. We love the same music, the same clothes, the same people and the same places. He is an attractive, intelligent, funny guy. But a strong part of me doesn’t like the possessiveness which has begun to creep into his words and sentences. Not just that; I think I may be scared that he is too much like me. Perhaps what I’m attracted to in him is just the kind of stuff that would make a good friend.

 I went to see my sponsor this afternoon (he’s back in London for a brief period before jetting off again to California later in the week), and we talked about it at length. I knew I had to consult him about it. It’s one of the reasons why I changed from my old sponsor, who was really anti-sex compared to this one. My sponsor was very understanding and supporting, advising me not to commit to anything at this very early stage. He doesn’t seem to think that things could work out between Alex and I. Realistically, Alex wants something from me that a 25 year old can’t and shouldn’t give. I ended up agreeing with my sponsor completely. I am just beginning to explore and enjoy my sexuality – would it not be strange for me to get betrothed to someone who I’m not really sure can fulfil all my needs?

 Sure, Alex is attractive, but he’s very gay – for want of a better term – and sometimes I think what I want/need is a straight man. It probably sounds quite degrading to gay men everywhere, and I really don’t want it to. I seem to have this need for someone who is really macho and masculine to…take care of me. I can think of where I get that need from, and I’m not going to write it here. To cut a long story short, there is a deeply unfulfilled need of mine, a part of my sexuality that I have never addressed or looked at because of shame and fear, but now I’m starting to look at it, because I’ve been sober for over a year. And I’m starting to think that it can’t be explored in the confines of a traditional, monogamous relationship.

 My sponsor has opened my eyes to this, and it’s rather wonderful. I’m not scared to even think about it any more. I’m not quite sure how to get to work on it yet, but I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. Earlier today I felt that disappointment that I always feel when it starts to look like yet another ‘relationship’ is coming to an end; now I’m thinking that it probably needs to end because, once again, it’s not the right thing for me. Although we’ve only met four times, I have to say that I what I have/had with Alex is/was far better than anything I’ve known before. I had lots of fun with him, I was honest throughout, and I didn’t get overly attached.

 After a good long sponsorly chat, the sponsor and I met Clive and went for dinner in North West London. We had a lovely Indian meal, chatted and laughed for a few hours, then they dropped me home in the van. It feels like I’ve progressed to a deeper level of fellowship; my new sponsor is really taking care of me, I’m spending lots of time in his home and now we’re going for intimate, friendly meals together. That’s what I always wanted. I couldn’t be more grateful.

Several steps in the right direction

It’s been a good week. My sponsor has gone away for the month, but we’re still managing to keep in touch. My old sponsor never wanted to be contacted on holiday. With this one, I actually want to phone him on a regular basis, whether he’s away or at home. On Wednesday I saw Alex again, the guy I’ve been dating for the past couple of weeks. I went to his flat in North East London and we had dinner and watched a film together, ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane’. It’s supposedly an iconic film for gay men, but I’d never seen it before. I have recently developed something of a fascination with Bette Davis, though, and so I’ve really wanted to see this movie for a while. It was possibly one of the strangest movies I’ve ever seen, very dark in some places and very silly in others. I’m glad I’ve seen it – one more to add to my list of ‘classics’ that I’ve actually seen. During my sheltered childhood, I didn’t see a lot of things that other people seem to have grown up with. I always describe myself as ‘unworldly’, to make it easier for people to understand why I don’t know of certain things that they might take for granted. It’s only in the last couple of years that I’ve started seeing different parts of the world, having a lot more freedom to go to places of my own choice than I did when I was young. Before the age of 23 I only ever went abroad once, to Paris for the day at the age of 9.

 This is nobody’s fault, it’s just the situation I was brought up in. There was little money to go around; we usually went on holiday here in the UK. A couple of years ago, I suddenly caught the travelling bug, and this week I’ve decided to book a last minute holiday to the south of France, because the weather is so depressing here and I need to get away from it. Stockholm was lovely, but I also need to go somewhere hot this year. I will be staying in Nice during the first week of September. I cannot wait. My friend Neal has a flat out there, and we were going to go anyway, as we went for a week last year, but he’s found out that he can’t get the time off work, so I’m going on my own and staying in a hotel. A few years ago, I would never have dreamed of doing such a thing. The thought would have horrified me. Go abroad on my own? No way!

 This is what I’m doing, because I can and because I want to. I think it’s good to travel, to see different places, because you get bored just staying in one place all the time. Of course, this particular holiday may be more than I can really afford; it may be a little irresponsible, given that I’m supposed to be looking for work in London at the moment. But who cares? It’s only a few days, and I want to be able to do something nice for myself. When I go out there I know I won’t be alone - there are English speaking AA meetings in Nice every day of the week. That’s part of the reason why I feel more able to go away alone these days, because there’s always a meeting to go to, everywhere.

 Wednesday night spent with Alex was nice. After the film we went to bed, and I did my best to ignore my nerves, to let myself have some fun. My emotions have stopped me from enjoying sex all my life, it seems quite tragic in a way. But I’m still young, and I still have time to learn, I just need to start learning now. I want to enjoy my body now, because that’s what normal adults do. Not so long ago I would have been considered frigid, unless I was very drunk. On Wednesday night I shed that image as best as I could, by simply trying to let go. Living in the future has ruined every single relationship that I’ve had; always worrying about what’s going to happen next, how he feels about me, when we’re going to move in together. I’ve known that I do this for a long time, but I’ve never known any other way to be. I couldn’t understand the concept of living in the moment, I thought it was so important to know how the other person was feeling and how much of a future we might have, because I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. I thought it was natural to need a relationship as much as I did, I was sure I couldn’t spend the rest of my life just looking after myself. I wanted to be rescued so badly, because I thought I needed rescuing. From what? Loneliness? I guess it all comes back to this core belief of mine that I’m not good enough by myself, that I need to be looked after because I can’t do life on my own resources. This lie was fed to me from birth, not just by my family but by society itself. We’re brought up to believe that couples are much better than single people, that long term monogamy is the ideal and a single life is only half a life, to be regretted and avoided if possible.

 I’ve undergone something of a radical change in my beliefs recently. Since I turned a year sober, I don’t seem to need rescuing any more. I don’t seem to mind if I find Mr Right tomorrow or not at all. I say ’seem’ because there’s no guaranteeing that I won’t return to my old needy beliefs at some point. Recovery is a journey with ups and downs, and so this newfound sense of independence cannot be counted on. Though it is a very good sign that I’m experiencing it at all. It’s made dating Alex an awful lot easier, because I’m not waiting for the phone to ring all the time, for him to tell me that he loves me and and sweep me off my feet. I’m perfectly happy with whatever comes my way. It’s going well for us so far. We spent the night together this week and for the first time ever, I enjoyed every moment. The fear of rejection and abandonment didn’t get in the way of me enjoying the moment. The feelings do come up every now and then, but for the first time, I’m able to brush them aside almost instantly.

 When I left his flat on Thursday morning we agreed that we were now officially ‘dating’. I’m going round again on Sunday, and I’m really looking forward to it. Whatever happens will happen, it’s entirely up to my higher power. Sex is nice, and I’d like to think that I won’t have to go through any more long periods of awkward, avoidant celebacy. Sex is a human need, and I can’t get away from it. What I don’t need, importantly, is a man to come along and rescue me. I have a higher power in my life which is doing the work now. I could only get that security from a year of sobriety. As long as I trust and believe in a higher power, I really will be all right.

 I saw another recruitment agency this morning to talk about temping work. I’m still jobless and directionless on that front; the person I saw this morning was very nice, but he did remind me that it will be more difficult for me because I don’t have an awful lot of work experience under my belt, having spent so long at University. I already knew all that, but it wasn’t pleasant to be reminded by someone who knows what they’re talking about. Anyway, he said he’ll do his best to find something for me, like they all do. Whether I hear from him next week or not, is not for me to worry about. I’ve done what I can, God will do the rest. I’d still love to end up in a job that I enjoy, but at the moment, I’m not entirely sure whether it will be possible to find that or not. Is the latest mediocre interview God’s way of telling me that I’m still not ready for work? Or am I simply not doing enough to improve my chances of finding something good? It’s all very confusing, and I wish I could apply the same relaxed attitude to it that I’ve applied to the relationship situation. I should rest assured in the fact that I’m financially OK, that I won’t and probably never will starve as long as my mum’s around. If I really force myself to stay in the present, then it’s hard to see what problems I have. No, I don’t have much money or career prospects, but these things change all the time. It’s not perfect or ideal but it’s OK.

 I attended the lovely lunch meeting in Soho which I’ve been going to for the past few weeks today. Somehow, the theme of the entire meeting ended up being relationships and co-dependency, a topic which I could probably write a book about. Nearly everyone shared about their neediness and desperation in relationships, and it was so inspiring that I felt the urge to share there for the first time. I rarely share outside of gay meetings; to be able to speak in a room full of people I hardly know is still a skill that I’m amazed I’ve got. I talked about the need to be rescued, the long and draining search for Mr Right, the inability to think of things that are actually good about me. It was only afterwards that I realised I had outed myself as gay to the room. There were no offended reactions from anyone – AA really is the most tolerant group I’ve ever come across. There’s no reason why anyone should care that I’m gay in London, anyway. It’s just me that seems to care.

 More than that, just the fact that I was able to share so openly in that room is incredible. A year ago I couldn’t walk into a room full of strangers and sit down without breaking into a sweat. Of course it’s still fairly nerve-racking attending meetings like that, but I can see myself doing it much more often now, which is good. This all comes to me as I realise that my behaviour really can have an effect on how things turn out for me. By sharing in that meeting, I’ve allowed people to get to know me a bit; if I share again next week, they’ll know me even better, and after some time I might actually start to make friends there. It’s not completely up to chance whether I become known and liked there or not. I can make people like me – this is something I never, ever dared to believe before.

Trying

I went to my new sponsor’s flat yesterday and we reviewed the work I had previously done on the 12 steps, a common procedure when you get a new sponsor in AA. We read through all the stuff that I wrote last year with my first sponsor. It was strange going back over that folder, as I hadn’t looked at any of it since I wrote it. Reading out the page entitled ‘why I don’t deserve to be happy’ was powerful and moving; following it with ‘why I deserve to be happy’ was even more moving. I found that inside I still believed some of the reasons that I’d given for not deserving happiness: as far as I’ve come this year, it has only, after all, been a small start. That self doubt is still there, big time. What’s nice is that my sponsor read some of the stuff he’d written for his own step work, twelve years ago. It helped us to bond and get to know each other better. It’s sad that he won’t be here much in the next month or so, but when he gets back he says that will be it for travelling, and we should be able to get on with more equally important work.

 I decided not to go to a meeting yesterday as I had some friends who would be in Soho enjoying the area’s annual gay street party. I got there at 4 and found the entertainment to be a lot better than last year. There were Madonna and Amy Winehouse tribute acts on stage on Old Compton Street; it was a lot of fun. Last year I spent the whole day at the event when I was just a month sober, and I didn’t enjoy it all, mainly because it was my first sober experience of that environment. This time round I had a lot more sobriety behind me, and I knew what I was and wasn’t comfortable doing.

 I stayed til around 9, hooking up with the cute American guy who I had first met up in Stockholm earlier this month. When he told me he lived in London I was thrilled, as it meant I would have some action lined up when I got back home. Yesterday when I saw him again he was drunker than before, and he had a big group of friends which I found difficult to penetrate at first. We danced to good pop music in some of the bars for a couple of hours, and my initial social anxiety eventually wore off as it always does, but in the end Soho just got too busy and too drunk for me. I left my squeeze there to get as intoxicated as he wanted to; I couldn’t stay.

 Leaving situations through my own volition is still something I find slightly weird, as I continue to worry what others will think of me. Luckily I’ve been sober long enough to know that people generally don’t mind when I have to leave things early, and places like the one I was in last night are no good for my sobriety. I can’t deny that a drink crossed my mind. It might have felt lovely, initially. Such thoughts are dangerous, I know they are, and I would have ended up hating myself. What would be the point in taking a drink now, after thirteen clean months? It would be really stupid.

 Today I’ve caught up on some chores and fulfilled my tea-making commitment at the step meeting in Soho where I was attacked by Ben last week. I was nervous about going back, and so made sure I wasn’t early enough to be the first one there on my own. Ben didn’t show up, so I imagine he really is out there, getting better or getting worse. Before last week I think I was beginning to enjoy my tea commitment, finally after eight solid months, but the incident with Ben has sort of spoiled it for me, and I felt just as stressed by the work today as I did eight months ago when I first began. This is the thing about me and responsibility – it takes me a very long time to relax into it. The idea of relaxing into work actually seems very strange to me at the moment. As it stands, I may never enjoy work and commitments, but I’m willing to stick at them.

 I’ve been struggling with my sleeping pattern again during the past few days. Today I couldn’t get up until 1pm, which is both worrying and annoying. I’ve always known that I go to bed too late at night, but I can’t seem to break this bad habit once and for all. For a while last month I was managing to get up early most mornings, but since I got back from Sweden it’s gone back to the way it was, and now I don’t know whether this can ever be fixed. I know what I would have to do to fix it, but it’s so hard to put the effort into changing my routine when there’s no real reason to do so. I don’t have a job, so I don’t have to get up every morning.

 Of course it’s nice when I can get up early, so that I have a full day with which to do stuff, but often the temptation of a late night is too much for me. I never had freedom to stay or get up as late as I chose when I was a child, so subconsciously I suppose I’m making the most of a new freedom at the moment. Unfortunately when I’m in bed until 1 o’clock like I was today, the notion of installing any routine into my life seems wildly impossible, and the important things that I want to do, such as tidy my bedroom and write my novel, are virtually forgotten about.

 For months I’ve had a nagging feeling inside that I’m not getting enough done, that I could do all those things if I just found the energy to make some changes. My bedroom is and has been a tip for a long time, and I hate it, and every single day I say to myself I’ll make a start on cleaning, but today, two months since I finished University and had any real responsibilities, I still haven’t touched it. I’m really worried that it might stay like that forever. But this evening, something new occurred to me: if I was able to turn my life around to such an extent that I could stop drinking, then surely I can make some changes to these other areas of my life.

 It’s going to be hard sorting the mess out in my room, just as it’s going to be hard to finish that novel, and to change my diet from one that’s full of junk to one that’s healthy and good for me. I know these things need to be done, but for months I’ve waited for some spark of motivation, which hasn’t come yet. Maybe I’ll find it tomorrow. All of a sudden, I have hope again, and I’m not sure where it came from. Though it can’t be a coincidence that I started thinking about all of this in an AA meeting.

Calm after the storm

Things seem a lot better now at the end of the week than they did at the beginning. Since Monday Ben has not been seen at any meetings, so I assume he’s keeping to his word, when he said he wouldn’t come back to the fellowship. I really hope this means he is taking time out to get some help. I’ve prayed and prayed and prayed for him to get better. Maybe he finally will now.

 The upset over Colin’s birthday no longer seems so painful. I found out from Dean the other day that Colin really did want a small meal with his very closest friends, it’s just that he will be going on holiday with a number of people next week who are not his very closest friends, and he felt that he had to invite them to the meal on Wednesday, though he didn’t really want to. This made me feel a little better – it makes sense  why I wasn’t automatically invited, though it still seems a little strange that at five years sober he is still going with the instinct to people-please at all. Well, it’s none of my business really. I don’t care as much as I did the other day, thanks to Dean’s comfort and support. He really was understanding when I opened up to him on Friday about how hurt I had been. He said I had every right to be upset, though my huge reaction was probably down to all the let-downs I’d suffered in the past: it wasn’t just about this one meal. In my teenage years I was never invited to anything, as everyone knows, and Wednesday reminded me of those experiences. I am made of my past, I can’t help that. Dean thinks I should have a little word with Colin about it, just to resolve the issue, but I haven’t felt comfortable enough to do that yet.

 On Friday I had to go and sign on for state benefits for the first time. I have not been able to find a job since I graduated from University, and it was only a matter of time before I got to the stage where I needed to take this step. I wasn’t thrilled to have to go to the jobcentre and sign on alongside all the other unemployed of North London, given that when I had to do it four years ago I endured the highly unpleasant experience of having my benefits stopped because I had previously left a job willingly. Luckily that isn’t on my record any more, but I still don’t love the idea of signing on every two weeks. It feels very strange going back there. I returned to University in 2005 specifically so that I didn’t have to do this again. Oh well, everyone tells me there’s no shame in it. I really need the money, and it’s not like I haven’t searched high and low for work this summer.

 By Friday afternoon I guess I was feeling pretty low. I hadn’t fully got over the incident with Ben yet, I was still hurting over Colin’s birthday meal, and I felt some shame over my continuing lack of employment. Then I was able to have a good long chat with Dean, which really helped; I had to make myself vulnerable to him, I couldn’t keep anything back, and it really worked, because he confirmed for me that I am loved and that I’m not alone. Then that evening I had a second date with the cute guy who had messaged me on facebook the week before. To get to a second date without jumping into bed was quite something. We went to see a movie, and we held hands in the dark, and that was it. It was very sweet. Hopefully I’ll see him again next week.

 Yesterday I had lunch with my dad in town, which was also very nice. We’re getting on so well, it’s unbelievable. He’s not as quiet and withdrawn as he used to be. Or maybe it’s me who’s changed. I feel a lot more comfortable around him these days. I can’t help thinking that this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for recovery. I have no expectations of him now, I don’t feel like he owes me anything any more. We’re on an equal level these days, and it’s wonderful. Who knows where it will go?

 I’m starting the steps again with my new sponsor later today. We’ll do the first three steps together in rapid succession; I’m looking forward to it. I really like my new sponsor. Unfortunately he’s going away for a while next week, and I might not be able to do step 4 and 5 with him until late September. My instant reaction to the news was disappointment, because it means yet more waiting around, stalling in the middle of the steps. Then I remembered that I waited all year to finish it with my previous sponsor, so surely I can wait a bit longer. Surely all of this is teaching me how impatient I really am. We’ll finish the steps eventually, all in good time. At least he wants to work with me. There’s no need to panic.

Time out

For the first time in weeks, I didn’t go to a meeting today or do anything fellowship-related. I had to accompany my mother to the hospital where she was scheduled to have a tooth out; she would be under anaesthetic and would need someone to take her home after the quick operation. I was told that I ought to stay with her at home this evening just to make sure that the lasting effects of the sedation didn’t do any harm. She has been in bed most of the evening sleeping it off, and she is fine. I felt better staying here anyway. The events of this week regarding AA have left a nasty taste in my mouth, and having a day off from it has been quite satisfactory.

 I think when I go back to AA I want to try out some different meetings. People say that all the time when they’ve been in AA a long time, as if attending a meeting just down the road from the old ones will quench the feelings of deep dissatisfaction that were seemingly brought on by those old meetings. Luckily there are over 600 meetings in London every week, and I’ve hardly tried out any of them yet. All year I’ve attended a very select few, because I thought I loved the familiarity. Maybe I’m running away from the problem again, by avoiding certain meetings so that I don’t have to see the same faces any more. But at the moment I don’t want to see the same faces any more. I’m still angry with Colin and his friends, and I’m still scared to be in the same room as Ben, who could turn up again at any time despite being removed from the room by police on Monday.

 I know I was childish and petulant yesterday. Colin doesn’t owe me an invite to his birthday meal. But no matter what anyone says, I still can’t understand why I was the only person not invited. If he’s noticed such childish behaviour in me before, surely not inviting me to something is only punishing me more? Surely that’s as bad as me ignoring him from now on? I’ll see him again, and of course I’ll be civil, because I AM a polite person, it’s not an act. Unfortunately there is anger deep inside me that I’ve had all my life. I don’t use politeness to hide it. I thought I had dealt with it.

 The business with Ben has been very sad to watch unfold, and I still don’t know how it’s going to be resolved. Apparently he’s not coming to meetings any more, so we may not see him again. That’s not what I really wanted. I hoped he would get some help as a result of Monday’s arrrest. He’s crying out for help, I’m almost in tears thinking about it.

 So I’m going to try out some more local AA meetings, like I’ve said I would for months. Maybe I’ll make lots of new friends, maybe I’ll be happy again. Maybe I’ll find that I miss the gay meetings in Soho, and the unhappiness can’t be dealt with by running away from them. Whatever happens, my sobriety remains intact. I don’t want to drink tonight.

Alone again, naturally

I’m more upset this evening because, for the second time in a month, my so-called friend Colin hasn’t invited me to a special occasion that he is celebrating. Tomorrow he will be five years sober, and it seems like I’m the only person in AA who isn’t going to his meal. A few weeks ago he celebrated his belly button birthday, and once again, I wasn’t invited. I’m confused as to why I’m not welcome at these things. I invited him to my birthday meal in July. What have I done to offend him? Clearly it’s something, because everyone I know is going to the meal tomorrow and I was sure I was closer to him than some of those people.

 I’m getting resentful when I shouldn’t be. I’m getting hysterical when I shouldn’t be. It’s only a meal, I have no right to automatically expect an invite. I’m being incredibly selfish. He can invite whoever he wants to anything – maybe there’s only space for fifteen people in the restaurant tomorrow, and I’m his 16th closest friend. Maybe he doesn’t feel as close to me as I thought he did. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? It would be petty of me to dwell on this.

 But I am dwelling on it, because I’m a fricking alcoholic. I’m fricking angry, and I want to take it out on people. I have taken it out on people. At coffee after tonight’s meeting I was unexpectedly rude to one of Colin’s sponsees, Joe, who is part of Colin’s little ‘clique’ and who I am fast going off because he seems to get invited to everything. I disguised a bitchy remark with humour, but it wouldn’t have come out if I wasn’t angry at him. I was instantly worried that I had offended him and that he would hate me forever, but now I don’t really care how he feels. I actually hope he does hate me now. I’ve spent my life trying to be nice and polite to everyone I come across. If I can put someone down and make the rest of the table laugh once in a while, why shouldn’t I enjoy it?

 I’m mostly pissed off because not getting invited to people’s birthdays is a running theme in my life. When I was a kid no one ever helped me to celebrate my birthday, and I never got invited to anything. Then when I turned eighteen and left home, I started getting invited to things, but not nearly enough, and every time I found out that something exciting had taken place without my knowing, I was deeply hurt. Just as I am hurt tonight. I thought I had got over that abandonment thing, but really I haven’t. I feel exactly the way I felt six years ago when my flatmates at University had a big party at the beach and left me behind, on my own. It’s like being forgotten about. How can this be happening to me again?

 I really don’t get why Colin doesn’t consider me a close a friend. I want to speak to my sponsor about this, but he’s going to the bloody meal tomorrow, and I don’t want to make him feel guilty. I wish I could stop feeling so bloody hurt but it’s a deep, old wound. I feel eighteen again: lonely, confused and abandoned. I want to punish everyone by leaving AA and never speaking to them again. I won’t do that, but I’m tempted to change my meetings around so that I don’t have to see that clique any more. I resented Colin and his friends when I came into AA last year because they all seemed so happy and popular, just like those cool kids at school who never had any trouble getting invited to anything. For quite some time I’ve considered Colin a great friend, and the resentment hasn’t touched me for months, because I thought I’d actually got to know him. But now I just want him gone from my life. Six years ago when I was in a similar situation at University I sent everyone nasty text messages telling them how much they’d upset me. I behaved rather like Ben has behaved recently towards me. I’m not going to send anyone a nasty text message tonight, I know it wouldn’t do any good. I know it would probably only hurt me in the long run to punish Colin quietly by avoiding him and all the others. What can I do? I really don’t feel like getting over this so I can wish him a happy birthday tomorrow and treat him as normal. Why should I do that? I don’t have to do anything for him, just as he didn’t invite me to both his birthdays. I think our friendship is over.