Decisions and distractions

Time for an update. Right now I am feeling slightly emotional. Why? Because Gareth finally replied to my message, almost a month after I sent it. Gareth is the guy I went out with for a week in December, the latest guy I managed to fall for without waiting to see if we actually stood a chance together. He’s ignored me for month, and I had just about forgotten about him, until tonight when he sends me a long message on facebook explaining why we lost touch. Nothing surprising: he simply didn’t feel ready at the time and needed space to think about things. It’s not clear whether he wants to meet again or not. He seems to like me a lot, but it sounds like he’s just got too much going on, or he’s too messed up at the moment. What gay man isn’t messed up? For fuck’s sake, I don’t think I’ve ever met a gay man who’s balanced and solid enough to last in a long term relationship. I certainly can’t claim to be any more balanced than most of my kind.

 So am I doomed to go from one unfulfilling encounter to another? Well at least those kinds of things are safe – you don’t actually have to get to know the person and become vulnerable with them. With Gareth I allowed myself to become vulnerable because I realised that I liked him an awful lot. There was a spiritual and emotional connection there alongside the physical stuff – unfortunately whenever relationships get onto that level, guys like me and Gareth are woefully ill-equipped to cope. Even if I was in a better position to cope right now, it’s unlikely that I’ll hear from Gareth again this decade. He took a whole month to send one simple message on facebook. I’d be waiting forever.

 I stopped seeing Jan earlier this month because I realised that yet again I had made the mistake of imagining that someone with lots of money could make me happy, and I very quickly got bored. So I did to him exactly what Gareth has done to me: I ignored him for weeks, before realising that ignorance does not make the issue go away. Now Jan knows how I feel and he is accepting of it. It’s a shame I had to spend so much time and effort working out that I wasn’t interested in him after all. Maybe I still don’t know how to trust my feelings from the very start.

 I’m starting to wonder if anyone can make me happy. I thought I had got over this fussiness, this neediness, but whoever I date, in my heart there is always something giving me doubts. That was the case, of course, until I met Gareth. When he came along he was like a dream. Hearing from him tonight made my heart skip a beat. If he wasn’t so unreliable, he would be perfect. I want to pursue him so badly, but I can’t bear to become even more vulnerable than I already am. I hate that I might have to wait a year for his next contact, because it gives him all the power, but my higher power is telling me quite clearly that I need to take a step back and wait.

 At least the writing is still going well. I completed another chapter of my sci-fi time travelling yarn today. I’ve written every day for the past couple of weeks, and it’s made me feel so fulfilled that I wonder if it could actually be a satisfying full time career. Of course there wouldn’t be any money in it for a long time, and I still need money to survive. But if I could make a plan and cut back on certain things here and there, I wonder if it might potentially work out. I’ve always known that I love writing; I understand a lot more about it now than I used to. I know my creative output only works properly when I am free of anxiety-provoking distractions. Unfortunately, looking for work is just about the biggest anxiety-provoking distraction I’ve ever come across! I really, really want to finish this novel, and I know I could do it given the time and space. Would it be foolish to put the search for an ordinary 9 – 5 job on the backburner while I focus on this more interesting part of my life? I can already imagine what my friends and loved ones would say. Some would tell me to drop the idea right now and be sensible; others would just as confidently encourage me to go for it.

Unlocked

It has been a good end to the week. I’ve had a very pleasant weekend actually. Today I spent most of the afternoon and evening with a new male friend called Murray, to whom I felt an instant spiritual and physical attraction. Sobriety is helping me to get better at recognising these things, believe it or not. We spent pretty much the whole time talking. We initally met over the internet – it’s the way I’ve met all my dates in the past six years. To some that might seem tacky. Personally I think the internet has its uses. I prefer to meet people in real life eventually, which is why I rarely spend long chatting to them online. Luckily Murray was as keen to meet this week as I was, and we ended up having a great time. We’ve agreed to meet again next weekend when we’re both free.

 My spiritual health seems very much to be on the up at the moment. I am nowhere near as anxious about life in general as I was six months ago. I’m pretty certain that the depressive attack I suffered last month has passed now. I knew it would pass, because they always do in the end. That doesn’t mean it was any less unpleasant to endure, and there will be more, I can be sure of that – but thank God it’s over for now. Thanks to a fresh and laid back outlook on life, I have been able to enjoy a surge in creativity this week. I’ve got back to my science fiction fantasy novel about the time travelling teenager in London – for the first time in ages, writing is fun again. It is undoubtedly the best thing I’ve ever written, though whether it is up to publishable standards yet remains to be seen. I need to finish the novel and do at least a second draft, two things I’ve always found near impossible to do. Well, I’m taking it one day at at a time.

 On Thursday I went to the funeral of the fellowship member who used to be secretary at my home group. It wasn’t what I could describe as a happy occasion at all – but it was a good day nonetheless. The service took place out in Hertfordshire, and it was very nicely done. About thirty of us from the gay fellowship turned up, which was nice. To have that support was wonderful; many of us came to realise on Thursday how much we would miss that man, myself included. The cremation was a completely secular affair – his identical twin brother led with a speech about his life and legacy. I wish I could name this man, but I can’t break his anonymity, even though he is no longer with us – perhaps I shouldn’t for that very reason. A fake name wouldn’t seem respectful. So I will simply refer to him as ‘him’ for now. Suffice to say, he was a huge part of the gay fellowship in London, a great support at times and a larger than life character. When the service was over we all went outside to look at the flowers that had been left there, and at that point I finally let go and managed to cry for the first time all day. I hadn’t expected to feel so overcome with grief. I guess the actual loss had not sunk in for me until then. It was a shock to realise that I’d never felt proper grief for anyone before. I’ve never lost anyone close to me. Earl said that as you get older it starts to happen more often, which is sad but true, I suppose.

 It was good to be able to cry like that on Thursday, anyway. It is only the second time in sobriety that I’ve cried in public. Since late last year I’ve been crying a lot more than I normally would, which is actually a comfort. That I can express my emotions now and let go, after so many years of being so frozen that I couldn’t even weep in the privacy of my bedroom, is spiritually nourishing. Like the writing, my emotions are coming out of me from within much more easily these days. It’s like my heart, my soul, has been unlocked. I never realised they were locked up before.

One of my better days

I, along with probably the vast majority of people on the planet, spent most of today watching Barack Obama’s inaguration as the 44th US president on TV. It was a happy moment for me – he seems a genuinely great guy, which can’t be a bad thing. So while America and the rest of the world goes through historic and important changes, my life remains fairly stable. I have not done many dramatic things in the last few days. Daily meetings continue be a part of my routine, just because there is and always was very little to do in the evenings. Now that I’ve finished the steps with my sponsor I guess I’m at that stage where I need to find other things to do in AA. So I have been quietly looking for sponsees, because for about the past six months I’ve been looking forward to sponsoring, and I know it will be good for me. But the problem with looking quietly is that very few people will notice that I am offering my services to them – unfortunately it remains a fundamental part of my character NOT to put myself out there in the world in general. I’d love to be able to walk into rooms and announce my presence, to advertise my sobriety and attract people to me like so many others who have been sober for as long as me seem to be able to do now. But I’m still only working on it.

 My character defects, while noticeably less prominent these days, are still there and I still find the whole ‘working with people’ thing anxiety-provoking from time to time. Dealing with my social phobia was always going to be a long, slow and painful process. At the moment I am constantly having to remind myself that I’ve only been sober for eighteen months, not a long period of time in the grand scheme of things. My journey is only really beginning, and that is a little hard to accept sometimes. I’m 26 years old and I feel like my life has hardly begun. Yes, I’ve achieved and experienced some wonderful things in my sobriety, but there has been an awful lot of strife (probably too much, which is entirely down to me, I know), and by this time I thought I would have at least been working for a living. I’m not moaning, I’m really not – I’m just saying how it is. I know I have a great tendency to think negatively and I don’t want to do that any more. It’s just that the opportunity I have been looking for seems as elusive and distant as it did ten years ago.

 While I wait for that opportunity to appear I simply have to carry on working the program, which is so at the core of my life now that I would be lost without it. In order to become a sponsor to someone I know that I need to do more work on this social phobia thing, which is why I’ve been going to so many meetings, trying to at least say ‘hello’ to every person that I see, whether I want to speak to them or not. I’ve always had this weird habit of ignoring people who for whatever reason I don’t feel comfortable with. I may not have seen them for a while, or I may have said something to them which I’m sure would have offended them, or they might have said something similar to me. Instead of dealing with the problem, 9 times out of 10 I’ll do my best to blank the person until they’ve forgotten we were ever friends. I’ve done it to so many people over the years, the amounts must be staggering. In AA I have been just as bad as I was in my drinking on that score. Whether I’m drinking or not, I have this problem with people which makes me retreat into a hard, icy shell whenever something presents itself as a potential threat.

 I can’t confront people, nor can I simply act as if nothing has happened. I have to withdraw and isolate to protect myself, because it’s the only thing I feel comfortable doing. It’s the only thing I know how to do. Months ago my sponsor told me to stop doing it; months ago I knew it was a bad behaviour. Not just because it might hurt people’s feelings, but it hurts me too. So this week I’ve been trying to say ‘hello’ and smile at familiar faces more, especially those whom my head tells me I have a problem with. It’s really, really hard but it’s one of many things that I know I’ve got to do now. In time it will get easier. Everything does with practise. That is one of the great things I’ve learnt in recovery: life gets easier with practise. Nothing is scary and difficult forever. If I keep going along this path I could become as happy and fulfilled as I ever wanted to be. I trust in that more and more every day. Right now I’m at the beginning of the path, and it is scary and hard every day. But I can’t let that stop me. I’ve come too far.

Up and out

It’s been one of those up and down weeks. If only I could have a normal week – just the one – where I manage to feel stable from one day to the next, but somehow I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. Monday was mostly a disappointment. The cleaning agency that I was supposed to have a try-out with contacted me at the last minute to tell me they didn’t need me after all. This was much to the relief of my mother, who thinks I’m better off remaining unemployed and waiting for a more solid job to come along. But for me it was a great disappointment, as I had psyched myself up for the day and thought I was finally on the way to changing my life. I guess I really was willing to start work on Monday, which can only be a good sign. Since then, no other job opportunities have been forthcoming. I wouldn’t be surprised if I remain unemployed for the rest of the year, the way things are at the moment.

 Tuesday was a nice day, as I got on an overnight sleeper train to Scotland with Earl. The trip had been planned months ago. We were going to see his family graves, which he has spent the past few years tidying up and restoring. We saw quite a lot of northern Scotland, as we travelled to Aberdeen and then down to Dundee where the graves are. Though it was freezing cold all day, I enjoyed the break from London. Being in a cemetary made me think about death and mortality, I have to say. We’ll all be gone one day – which is why it’s so imperative for me to enjoy life while I’m still here. I wish my character defects would leave me for good and let me appreciate life more, but they won’t.

 On Tuesday afternoon we went to a small AA meeting in Dundee town centre, and I was unexpectedly asked to do the chair as no one else wanted to do it. It was a very strange experience, even though I’ve done many chairs this year, mainly because everyone there was so different to the people I know in London. Dundee people have a very thick accent, almost impossible to understand when they speak fast, and the drinking stories seem to be a lot heavier up there than they are here. Earl told me that Dundee is the world’s hard drinking capital. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.

 Despite all that I felt refreshed by my visit there. I got to see the sea for the first time in months; the bracing ocean air really cleared my sinuses, if nothing else. On Tuesday night we got the sleeper train back to London. Having never slept on a train in my life, it all added to the adventure and excitement of the occasion.

 Since I got back yesterday I’ve done almost nothing but sleep. I didn’t sleep a wink on Monday night thanks to the strangeness of the environment on the train, and I probably didn’t sleep much on Tuesday night either. I have plenty of things to do here, and I’m struggling to make a start on any of them because I’m so tired. I’ve recently come to the conclusion that the anti-depressants are making me extra tired, which is why I’ve made an appointment to see my doctor first thing tomorrow morning. Because I’m so tired I’m finding it harder and harder to get some routine in my life, and it’s really driving me mad. I came close to a nervous breakdown this evening as I was unable to get myself out of the front door until it was nearly closing time for all the shops, and so I couldn’t get half the things I needed to get. It really irritates me that I’ve got into this state – it’s been getting worse for years, and n0 matter how early I set my alarm in the mornings, when it comes to it I can rarely force myself to get out of bed. I’m like a different person in the mornings – practically a zombie. This needs to change.

Change

Life is changing now, fast. I can’t stop it, I don’t want to stop it. But it is still scary. Keeps me up at night, even now. I had a job interview this morning. I might have a proper job by this time next week. It was with a cleaning agency. Not the greatest job in the world. I might not exactly enjoy it. But it’s a job. It’s the first opportunity to have come along in six months. I have a trial day on Monday. See whether I like it or not. See whether they like me or not. Who knows, it could be good for me.

 I’m still seeing Jan, the older, richer guy who has just bought a flat in Hackney which I am helping to decorate. It’s slowly becoming like a home. I feel comfortable there whenever I go there. Jan and I get on really well. He talks about cocaine a bit too much for my liking. But he can never force me to take it. I haven’t told him the full story about my sobriety yet. Maybe when I do he’ll understand better. Is he the guy I always want to be with? I don’t know. Probably not. He’s probably too old for me. There are better men out there. But Jan has been good to me. Younger, better looking guys are never good to me. I’m still thinking about Gareth, the beautiful man I knew for a week late last year. While we were seeing each other it was good. But then he stopped calling me. He keeps poking me on facebook. But he won’t respond to my messages. I don’t know whether he’s messing me around or what. I feel really hurt by his behaviour. Because if he really did like me, I’d never need to look at another man. Gareth is amazing, trust me. I don’t think he wants me, though. Not really. And that sucks.

 I’ve been warned by a fellow alcoholic on this blog that I may be breaking tradition 11 with my writings. I hadn’t honestly thought about it before. Maybe I should have. I’ve always tried my best not to give identities away when I talk about friends in Alcoholics Anonymous. But I wasn’t aware until today that tradition 11 is about more than that. It’s about attraction rather than promotion. For the past eighteen months I have promoted AA with this blog. If I go on to relapse, I will show that AA doesn’t work. That worries me a bit, I admit it. I always feel defensive under attack and when a sober friend pointed out the potential danger in what I am doing, I initially responded defensively. My character defects are still there. In the light of a new day, I can see that person’s point. Should I stop writing this blog? Should I go back and remove all references to AA from previous entries? Right now neither option seems possible. I still believe that this blog is good for me. And there are too many posts to trawl through at this time of night for me to even make a dent in the things I’ve posted about AA. I’ve given too many of AA’s secrets away, I’ve let the cat out of the bag. Sorry AA. I meant you no harm. I will try not to do it again.

 I went to see the show ‘Avenue Q’ in the West End tonight. It was great fun. I’ve discovered in sobriety that I love going to the theatre. I like doing cultural things generally, really. I honestly didn’t know that before! The message of ‘Avenue Q’ seems to be all about growing up and striving for what we want in life, as long as what we want is realistic. How apt a message for me to hear at this stage in my life. A little part of me thanked my higher power after the show for letting it be so relevant. It was all done in a light-hearted, humourous way of course; which makes it all the more poignant for me, I suppose.

Good news/bad news

The good news is that I went out dancing last night, and had a fabulous time. Having not danced anywhere for three months, I was enough in the mood yesterday to brave a trip into Soho, where I decided I was going to go to Heaven, one of my old drinking haunts, and break one of my final sober taboos. I have not been to Heaven nightclub since I stopped drinking – for a long time I’ve thought about going back, to see what it’s like now, but have not found anyone to go with. Last night I decided I would just have to go on my own, as I needed to dance and immerse myself in a crowd of attractive gay men. Never to spend time on my own in alcoholic environments was one of my golden rules when I came into recovery, and in the past eighteen months bar a couple of brief occasions I have stuck to that rule. Last night, things changed when I remembered that reading in the Big Book which says we should not be scared of going into wet places – as long as we have a good reason to be there. My reason for going to Heaven last night was not to drink, it was to dance and meet people. I’m 26 years old, yet for the past year or so I’ve felt more like a 40 year old. Heaven used to be an awful lot of fun, whether I was drinking or not; I always had a soft spot for it.

 At last night’s meeting I was lucky enough to bump into a foreign visitor who also fancied partying the night away. So at a late hour we headed into town together to queue up for the nightclub. It was freezing cold and the queue was exceptionally long; for nearly an hour I was convinced that we weren’t going to get in, that I’d have to go home disappointed and wait another year before finding the courage to try again. My friend was in a chatty/flirtatious mood, and insisted on talking to everyone in the queue around us. It came so naturally to him to introduce himself to perfect strangers - I couldn’t believe it. I’ve never been able to understand how people do that. From the age of zero the ability to speak to strangers has simply eluded me. Last night I felt embarrassed as my friend went from one person to another, introducing us to pretty boys and girls who we’d probably never see again.

 They all seemed so attractive and cool, like most young people do to me. I was sure none of them would have spoken to me if I were just on my own. My friend who did all the introducing has been sober for a very long time, so perhaps he’s had a lot more chance to practise than me, but somehow I don’t think this social awkwardness is ever going to leave me entirely. Saying that, the fact that I managed to string a sentence together after being introduced to all these sexy people is encouraging. I felt a strange absence of anxiety as we gradually got closer to the front of the queue. Normally, a big part of me would be dreading a night out in that environment, for a number of reasons. Firstly I’ve never felt entirely safe being out and about late at night – it was after 2am when we finally got into the club – secondly I tend to fear crowds of drunk people, even though I was one of them myself once. And when I’m in places like that there’s always a possibility that I will want to drink, which terrifies me.

 But last night, I wasn’t worried about any of these things. I was there to enjoy myself with a sober friend, to dance to good music and to possibly meet someone. For the first time ever, my priorities weren’t subject to change. Maybe the anti-depressants that I’ve been taking for nearly eight months have finally had a good effect on my social anxiety, or maybe I’ve just been out enough times in sobriety to be used to those situations. It really is a case of getting used to it: there were so many things I only used to be able to do when drunk, and it’s taken a long time to show myself that I can do them sober. When I thought of reasons to avoid the club last night, the need to be drunk to enjoy it was not one of them.

 So we finally got in after 2 o’clock in the morning, and it was well worth the wait. The music was amazing, and of course, all the men were extremely easy on the eye. To be in that place again, after all this time and sobriety, was very strange. Not much has changed about the nightclub in the past two years. Only I’ve changed, and I was able to enjoy it far more than I ever did in the old days. I stayed there til after 4 in the morning, throwing shapes to all the very best pop music by the likes of Beyoncé, Rihanna, Madonna and Kylie. It was nice to discover that I still knew how to dance. When I finally dragged myself away, it was half past 4, the latest I had ever been out in my life. I was sober, happy, in complete control of myself. This morning, the absence of a hangover was as wonderful and empowering as it ever is.

 The bad news I have just received is that someone I know in the fellowship passed away last night. He wasn’t my closest friend, but I knew him quite well, having been on the service committee with him for most of last year at my former home group in Hyde Park. He was a kind man, always supportive during difficult times. It’s not known how he died yet – whether it was through a relapse or simply natural causes, it is a tragic loss to the gay fellowship in London. This is the first time I’ve known someone in the fellowship to pass away. The thought that I might see many more go through the years is quite saddening. But death is a part of life, as we all know. My prayers are with his friends and his family tonight. The fellowship will always survive, and for that I am grateful.

Back on the path

A better day all around. Very relaxing. Spent most of it reading/writing/watching TV, which is good. Attended my first meeting of the New Year in Soho this evening, saw all the old faces, and was pleasantly surprised to see some who I hadn’t seen around for months. It was a great meeting, with lots of positive and powerful sharing. The general theme encouraged us to be easy on ourselves; it’s a tough time economically and we all need to be careful not to get too burdened by the pressure on us. Just the kind of thing I needed to hear today. A few people talked about relapsing over the festive period, which was unfortunate; one of them was someone I had not expected to relapse. Which just goes to show that it can happen to any of us. I know I was closer than I’ve ever been to a relapse last month. Hopefully I’m through it now. This week hasn’t been as down for me as previous weeks. Though the anxiety is still there, I think I’m just relieved to have got through another sober Christmas. I hope the latest depression is over now. There will probably be more, but I hope that I’m off the hook for the time being and get some more pink cloud action. It really is a killer illness – having been through the mill with a body and a mind that wants to destroy itself, I know how tough recovery is going to be now. But I’m willing to fight another day, because I want to hang on to that eighteen months of sobriety, and I want to get better.

Happy New Year

Wishing everyone a very happy 2009. Everyone except the bank, that is, who have once again charged £60 in various kinds of interest on my account. It happens at the beginning of every month, and it’s going to continue happening until I have a regular income, that much is obvious. No matter that I can’t afford to survive as long as they keep charging me – they clearly couldn’t give a shit as long as they can keep taking money from me. No point lodging a complaint because the whole issue of bank overdraft charges is going through the British courts at the moment, and they’re not dealing with any customer complaints until the courts have made some kind of decision. Which could take months, or years. I stand no chance of clearing my debts until I have a job; when that elusive position is secured, this nightmare will finally be over. Right now, I can’t see an end to it because I feel as unemployable as I ever did. We’re in the middle of a global recession – everyone’s losing their jobs, no one is gaining employment.

 Because of this I have begun 2009 feeling rather hopeless. Until today I was starting to come out of my latest depression, but now I am right back to fighting it because (as I realised yesterday) finance is my biggest emotional trigger at the moment. I’ve been in debt to the bank for most of the past seven years. It’s no wonder I feel as if there’s no end in sight.

 I had dreams for this year. I wanted to fly to New York in the summer; until today I really thought I could do it, because I was starting to save money for the first time in ages. I’ve recently sold a bunch of old stuff on ebay and made real money for the first time in my life. Now the best part of those earnings are gone, and once again I face a month of barely surviving. Fine, New York will always be there and I have the rest of my life to go there – but today I can’t imagine a situation where I could possibly afford to go anywhere. Most of the holidays I’ve been on in recent years were either paid for by other parties or really cheap. New York isn’t cheap. But it’s my dream destination. Going there would be the ultimate proof that my life has changed, that things are getting better for me.

 They say the best things in life are free. Well, I had a great night last night, all for the cost of nothing. I was planning to go dancing with Dean and others in South London, but in the end I changed my mind and went to a party at the flat of another AA member in Leicester Square. I had a choice between queueing up outside a nightclub in South London in the freezing cold, or partying at someone’s posh flat for free where there was unlikely to be any alcohol around. I chose the latter option because it just seemed so much easier, and I’m really glad I went that way. It was a fabulous party, not least because the flat was on the sixth floor of a tower block and we had fabulous panoramic views of London at New Year. In the distance we were able to watch the fireworks at the London Eye at midnight; about twenty of us ushered in 2009 sober and happy. It was probably the best New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had. Before I was always out somewhere expensive and alcoholic; last year in Edinburgh was just typical of the heavy expectation I used to place on myself every year to enjoy myself and celebrate in an environment that I just wasn’t comfortable in. This year I was determined not to put that pressure on myself; as soon as I agreed to go clubbing with Dean yesterday I kind of knew there would be pressure on me again, and in the end I headed for a nice comfortable house party in Soho where we had brilliant views of all the London celebrations, where I was amongst true friends and where I didn’t have to pay to enjoy myself. That kind of thing was always a dream of mine too – and it didn’t cost me anything.

 So perhaps I need to let go of the New York dream for now and try to find more cost-free ways of enjoying my life. But real dreams are things you never let go of, and for me, New York is at the top of the list. How will I ever get there? Would it be reckless to save the money required and then just blow it all in the week or so that I’d get to spend on the other side of the Atlantic? What would someone who isn’t a slave to money do? I hate, hate, hate the fact that my life has to be ruled by money, and so New York seems like a very attractive treat, the sort of thing that would make me happy for years, a way to blow hundreds of pounds that I wouldn’t necessarily feel bad about. So it looks like my dream trip could still take place in the next year, providing I can find more things to sell on ebay and more ways to save. Maybe I don’t deserve a holiday this year, but it’s what I want, and I always hoped that recovery would bring me things I wanted as well as things I needed. Starting from now, I’m praying for this holiday – it means everything to me.

New Year in London