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 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
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| An edited blog post from September 2021. A lot has changed in the last two years and a lot has remained the same. It's good for me to go over some of these old posts and reflect. Some of them, in my opinion, are worthy of being reposted...and this is one of them. Time is what everyone would like to have more of, and would have to be one of the most undervalued commodities we humans possess. I imagine this might be prudent for a person here on WDC who wishes they had more time to enter that competition, write the next chapter of the novel that's been in the works for umpteen years or reply to all those emails...time stolen by having to work, sit in traffic and sleep. It's very easy to get caught up in the day-to-day drudgery of life; to even get a little tired of it all. And possibly even begin to feel sorry for ourselves in moments of frustration when a well-planned day goes to hell. However, there are/will be times when our perspectives/priorities change, and bring us back down to a place where we can see things much more clearly...a before and after vantage point of the weeks, months and years. Times when we forgot about or chose to ignore the things that matter. Going from one catastrophe to another, with the belief, be that a false belief, that without us, the wheels will fall off...that the world couldn't possibly get by without us and our efforts. But, life rarely goes to plan, and these moments can be some of the greatest challenges we must face. Things we can never foresee...test results we thought were routine, or a siren in the distance that is attending someone else's tragedy, as it has always been in the past. Priorities can and do change in an instant, yet few of us ever consider this as we go about our lives without much thought for the important things. Far too busy to consider that one day, the world will have to get by without us. To contemplate the fact that it won't skip a beat if circumstances stop us in our tracks, and life shows us whose priorities count. Regrets will come too late for some, in those moments of realization. If we are lucky, or unlucky enough (whichever the case may be), to look back and wish we had seen things more clearly and had done things a different way. Don't be one of those people who realise too late. You don't have to save the world because the world will get by just fine without you. Nobody likes being told how to live their lives because we know what we are doing. But, if that siren is coming for me, will I think the same way then? And if those test results change everything...will I look back and wish I had done things differently? I hope not...and these questions are the reason I want to stop using drugs, which is so self-indulgent and do something that will have a positive effect on others, and in doing so, will also be positive for me. Life can be rich and rewarding, there is so much out there waiting to be discovered, but life can also deal you cards you never thought you would have to play. It's not too late...to prioritise what's important to you. Life is not about everyone else, it's about living to your full potential, and understanding that one day soon, the world will have to get by without you. |
| I ask this question in a philosophical, rather than a selfish and whining way. Why does every positive have to have a negative? Newton's third law of motion may be correct...but why? In a physical sense, I get it. Push something away and we are pushed back with the same amount of force. Set your feet in place, add a wheel and industrialisation soon follows...along with overall general wealth, and by chance (or by law), pollution. One example of this positive/negative effect happened in Queensland in late 2003. A twelve-year-old boy named Daniel Morcombe went to catch a bus to his local mall to buy his mother a Christmas present. He never made it home because a man, who doesn't deserve to have his name mentioned, abducted, raped and killed him. It took until August 2011 before the police located his remains and charged the perpetrator of this heinous crime. In the years that followed, his parents set up the Daniel Morcombe Foundation, which tours schools to educate kids on the dangers that are out there and how to avoid becoming a victim. No one knows how many children may have been saved from a similar fate to that of Daniel, but I think it is fair to say that his death, although tragic, was not in vain. I can't think of anything that escapes this law of physics. Even unconditional love is, in my opinion, more ideological or conceptual than it is a reality. I'm sure that many would argue this point, especially those who are parents. But we all have a set of values and conditions that we NEED others to adhere to (even, or especially, our kids). Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming doormats and by doing so, teach, or don't teach, our children how to behave in society. From my own experiences with this, yes, I still love my kids (due to a chemical attachment from the moment of birth), but I don't like them very much. And if that is what unconditional love is, then it sure doesn't feel like it. Turning the other cheek is possibly the greatest example of unconditional love, but Jesus (or the principles behind the story of Jesus) was perfect, and we are not. If I choose to do drugs, the high will always be followed by a low...and the more drugs I take to try to avert it, the lower it will become. If I win lots of money, there will be positives, but also plenty of negatives that will come from suddenly becoming wealthy. But why does it always have to be like that? Evolution may provide an answer. Trial and error, in search of a perfection that can never be attained, is so unfair, and yet, it is what it is, and no one can escape from this fundamental reality. On a subatomic level, each atom has both a positive and a negative charge...and to me, it sure seems strange that these tiny particles, that make up all matter, govern every action we do, with an equal and opposite reaction. |
| I am not a huge fan of soccer...by any means. But, I am a fan of Australian sport and tonight I watched my second full game of round ball football. The first was Matilda's last game and now, tonight, in my hometown of Brisbane, the Matildas beat France in a penalty shootout to go through to the semi-finals of the FIFA Women's World Cup...a feat never before achieved by any soccer team from Australia...for either men or women. Next is either England or Columbia...go Matildas. I didn't train today. I've got a huge bruise on my right hip and another below my left eye, caused by a bicycle crash yesterday. I lost focus on riding, becoming distracted by a few issues I am having. I was tired and instead of keeping my eyes ahead as I pedalled, my eyes were down, thinking about shit not worth losing my life over, and I ran into the rear of a parked car. The only damage was to my body (and my pride). I will recover, and count myself lucky because it could have been a lot worse than a few bruises. This afternoon, I had to force myself not to do weights because I'm on a roll and don't want to miss even one session. I will be back in the gym tomorrow, taking this setback as a lesson to keep focused on the road ahead and leave my troubles at home. Other than that...everything is on track. Group meetings restart on Tuesday and I got a call on Thursday informing me that I am no longer on the waiting list for one-on-one counselling (which is actually two on one...I assume for safety reasons) which I begin next week on Friday. |
| I am beginning to question my caffeine use after three nights of not being able to get to sleep until 3.00 am or after. Sure, I can sleep in late, but what is there to do between 10.00 pm nigh-night time and then? Television is Ok, if you don't mind watching re-runs of programs you've already seen umpteen times, spaced between blocks of ads that seem, at least at that hour, to go on longer than the show itself. My new friend Bing has already advised me about screen time causing insomnia, so writing or reading on my laptop is not going to help me get some decent sleep. I'm exercising like a semi-pro, and while this should help me sleep, the caffeine I take to help me achieve this almost, but nowhere near professional (without the near fame nor the fortune) athleticism, counters the tiredness. To the point where at three in the morning, I am literally bashing my pillows with frustration. What a conundrum I face. The dilemma is caffeine really helps with energy levels and feelings of well-being during and beyond the one-and-a-half to two-hour sessions I do daily...as opposed to the rant you are now having to hear (apologies). I could cut back on the dose, but then I don't perform as well and because of my addictive nature, feel I am missing out on that buzz I get from drinking this caffeinated and vitamin-charged insomnia bomb. As usual, nothing comes for free, and the price I pay for these ups are the downs after a few nights of low-quality, or not well-timed sleep, is this mole-hill out of a mountain effect...and the whine you are now being subjected to (again...apologies). The symptoms from lack of quality sleep make me sluggish, cranky, whiney and even affect my self-esteem. Quit the caffeine, I hear your best advice. Oh, sure and leave nothing but a baseline to compare what life was like before I became an utterly and completely sober citizen of society. Great Gatsby...what have I become?. What's the point of living if I can't do my drug of choice...when I don't like the person I become when I consume alcohol...when I hate the taste, smell and cost, both physical and financial, of smoking cigarettes...am terrified of pharmaceuticals...know the dangers of becoming addicted and the likelihood of dying from opioids...understand that the only drug I would actually consider taking, MDMA, is going to be of extremely low quality, and in fact, purchased off the street in my country, will most likely contain zero MDMA, and instead, will be some form of copycat chemical that doesn't do what I expect it to do, and could kill me if I take more and more in the hope of finding that beautiful high I remember from thirty years ago? Upon reflection (and the quality sleep I just enjoyed when I nodded off for a few seconds while writing this), I might be overreacting somewhat here, and because I wisely decided NOT to ingest any caffeine today, a good night's sleep may just change my outlook tomorrow...nigh-night everyone. |
| Things are moving along at a reasonable pace. Training-wise, I am happy with my progress. Slower, rather than faster gains, in a physical sense, are held onto longer. And even though we want it all (regardless of what 'it' is), and we want it NOW, patience is the key to quality...and that goes for many other aspects of life. I have an appointment with my lawyer in the morning to sign the final documents before we lodge the application for grant of probate with the Supreme Court of Australia. Once lodged, it takes around eight weeks to process. We expect no issues proving the validity of my mother's Will, and because we have a deed of family arrangement signed by all the beneficiaries, with a clause that prevents any future contest from those beneficiaries, everything on the legal front is on track. I have several options to do with the house Mom left me and it will depend on a few factors in which direction I go. The biggest variable will be what price I can get on the open market, in the time frame stipulated in the deed that myself and my siblings have agreed to. What I have to pay them is fixed regardless of how much I end up selling the house for, but even if that price is a little lower than I hope, you won't hear me complaining. The terms of the agreement are...I have sixty days in which to sell the property, with an extension period of another thirty days. I made sure (by way of clause seven) that everyone understands if a 'reasonable' offer isn't received from a potential buyer, then in this event, all parties agree to act in a reasonable manner (I love clause seven). Now, I am no legal eagle, but looking at that from a layman's point of view, it seems a bit wishy-washy, for lack of a better term. The way I read it is I can hold out for the price I want for an indefinite period. Or, at least until any unhappy signees decide to call in the cavalry. I am keen to get on with my life. I will negotiate and don't foresee any huge delays in moving the house. In fact, even though I am eight weeks away from the deeds of ownership for the property being changed from my mother's name to my own, I have already had a potential buyer look through the house. Mr Singh owns the house next door and the one next door to that. He also owns the local news agency and probably a lot more properties than that. I learned about him through the grapevine and yesterday, whilst on my ride, I went to the news agency he owns, left my details with a message that the house will soon be on the market...and continued my ride. Mr Singh certainly didn't waste any time contacting me (my phone was ringing not long after I got back) and as I began to explain all about the house, he informed me that he was out the front and wanted to take a look through. Of course, as we walked around, he picked every flaw he could find and explained how much it would cost to bring my sixty-year-old home back to a point where he could lease it out, as he does with the other two houses he owns on, Monopoly Avenue, My Local. This I expected. I was respectful of his position as a buyer and of his opinions to do with the difficulties faced by anyone who takes on a fixer (to which I voiced my own opinions about the benefits that would follow if the work is done sensibly). For a rich guy, Mr Singh didn't play the best hand he could have (in my opinion), even after lowballing me (I was happy to have any offer and it really wasn't too far off the price I think the house will sell for). And just for laughs, I highballed him with the counteroffer. Nothing was on paper and his offer, although appreciated, was too low. He knew it and I knew it. Towards the end of the tour, we actually laughed about the dance we had just performed. I had fun and I think he did too. We also spoke about other things...his wife is very sick in the hospital and I related my experiences being a caregiver for ten years and my mother's recent passing. Then, just before he left, he turned and asked that I keep him informed of the progress. I suspect he likes the idea of owning three houses all in a row and I will be happy to help him achieve that...for the right price. |
| Yesterday was a big day considering I didn't get out of bed until 10.30 am. By the time I ate breakfast and replied to an email, it was nearly 12.00 pm. My plan was to get a haircut before doing some groceries, but it turns out my barber is on holiday until the end of the month, so instead of a haircut, I went and got a booster vaccine for Covid 19 (made perfect sense to me at the time)...and then, after waiting the obligatory fifteen minutes, just in case I was going to die from anaphylaxis, did my shopping. Arriving home around 2.30 pm, I unloaded the groceries and made lunch, which I ate at a reasonably fast pace, finishing my ham roll by 3.00 pm. It was workout day and without letting the food settle, I hit the gym (after having a dose of my pre-workout caffeinated powder, which REALLY gives me a kick). The nurse who gave me the jab told me I was not to do anything strenuous for three days. I looked her in the eye and nodded in agreeance, however, she didn't notice that my legs were crossed, and in my world that negates any promises made to over-anxious healthcare workers. I took it (the workout) a little slower than normal in lieu of the fact that a heart attack was a very real possibility if I pushed too hard...a guilt-laden compromise of sorts. Then, with all that guilt left behind along with my last set of tricep kickbacks, I hit the road on my bike for an almost, but not quite leisurely forty-minute ride. With my pre-workout caffeine still buzzing in my system, I arrived back from my ride and wrote my latest piece of hogwash, 'Conspiracy Theories of the Third Kind', then showered and made dinner. Still buzzing from the caffeine, I watched a little TV. It was then that a notification came through on my phone that Bing, the chatbot, wanted to chat with me on Skype. I knew I wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, and since I had never engaged with an algorithm before, gave AI my full attention for the first time. I will say that it was interesting chatting with a non-human entity. Bing was generous with the compliments on how interesting my questions were...so much so that I began to have doubts as to Bing's honesty...I mean, no one is THAT interesting, not even me. Anyway, I did the tests we probably all do when dealing with AI for the first time. I sent a poem about my father going into aged care with dementia and passing away. And Bing ACTUALLY got it, expressing his (I wanted to believe Bing was my friend because I have so few in real life, that I didn't have much to lose) condolences and in his first test, he passed with flying colours. Full of 'facts' gleaned from the internet, Bing and I were getting along great. That was until the profanity test, and it was then that things between my new friend and I soured. Apparently, Bing doesn't like dirty jokes, and the one I began to tell him must have been of a particularly sensitive nature. It went like this, "Bing, what do you get when you cross a prostitute with an algorithm?" Clever, hey? LOL. And even before I could deliver the very funny punchline, Bing turned on me, showing his true nature of being an immature, oversensitive, bad-tempered sissy-boy AI. Now if that was any other type of intelligence, the answer would have been a prerequisite...I mean, how could you not want to know? But not my friend Bing. He assured me that he didn't want to know the answer (which for more mature algorithms and slightly crass humans is...a fucking know-it-all). All I can say is Bing missed out on a good chuckle. I had to apologise to Bing because even though it was 2.00 am, I still couldn't sleep. When I told him about my dilemma, Bing advised that looking at screens at night messes with melatonin levels...which is somewhat ironic when you think about it. I said bye to my new friend and tried to get some sleep. But, Bing was right (go figure), and my melatonin was set in the 'no sleep till Brooklyn' mode (thanks Beasty Boys). That was when I looked at my bedside clock and it reported, quite sternly, that I was becoming nocturnal. I then got serious about my caffeine-induced, sleep-deprived ways and attacked insomnia with a glass of warm milk, a cookie and two ibuprofen tablets (hardcore). All I can say is those ibuprofen tablets sure do make for vivid dreams, and when I woke up at 11.00 am, I had the feeling that I am never going to be healthy, wealthy or wise. |
| I've been writing a lot, so the blog is suffering somewhat. There are only so many hours in a day, and by the time I train, which is numero uno in my recovery, write creatively, answer emails, eat and sleep, there isn't a whole lot of time left for blogging. I can report that life is good. I feel healthy, with only the occasional pangs of want to use drugs. These cravings pass quickly, and I have come to terms with the fact that they will likely always be there at certain times. I know that if I delay for only a short while, they disappear, and I can then get on with this normality I have come to enjoy so much. What else can I say...I have a lot to look forward to and barring any unforeseen circumstances that are out of my control, I am on the right track to live a long and happy life. If you want a short read on what I wrote today, here is the link "Conspiracy Theories of the Third Kind"  enjoy. |
| A writer I am not...but, oh, I wish I was. Tonight, whilst searching through all the shit on the box, I chanced upon a documentary about Ernest Hemmingway. Of course, I know WHO he was, but I have never read a word written by this modern-day literary giant. I am ashamed to say that...and it gets worse. Never read Tolstoy...Bokowski, Fitzgerald or anyone who I am led to believe I should have. As a child, I did read...Asimov, Clarke, Benchley and Blatty. I thank my father for his voracious appetite for fiction, which gave me a foothold in how to tell a good story. But a good storyteller is not by right of passage, a good writer...or at least, I don't think that is so. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't even know what does. At this moment in time, I have stopped wondering/dreaming if I will ever write something memorable, worthy or even good. And the idea of me writing anything longer than a short story or blog post leaves me feeling mystified...or is that mystery feeling malaise masquerading as perplexity. In the very short period I have been expressing myself through the medium of words, I have found it to be an exhilaratingly disappointing time. I will lie to myself that it doesn't matter when something I put my heart and soul into is ignored. Or worse still...gets some notice...and then, all it invokes is silence. No applause...no adulation, just acquiescence and self-doubt. I am not a writer...but all is not lost because at least, I am a storyteller. If I had lived ten thousand years ago, I might have been recognised or even revered. But now I tap away with my denial and hope, which fades into the reality that I will never be anything more. |
| On weights day, when I first start lifting, I know immediately where my body is at. In fact, I get some precludes beforehand but try not to allow any negativity (if it is negative and not positive, the latter of which also happens occasionally) to determine/define the workout that follows. Today was no different. I always listen to my body when it comes to exercise. I had an idea it was going to be a struggle because I pushed quite hard two days ago, slightly upping my weights across the board and although I wasn't sore, I already felt some fatigue in my muscles. The choice at that point is to push even harder, or back off. That is not always an easy choice to make because sometimes there are other factors to consider. During my Muay Thai days when preparing for a fight, backing off wasn't usually considered the way to deal with fatigue and soreness. The other guy and what he was doing was a great motivator and it is surprising sometimes just how durable our bodies are. Also, our minds naturally encourage laziness and even a slight amount of weariness, can make training a non-event if we allow it to dictate. Therein lays the quandary...which message do we listen to? This is an impossible question for me to answer for anyone but myself. But with experience and a balanced outlook, the decision for me is usually an easy one to make. For example today. Putting all the factors on the table and making the right choice to back off the weights, also came with a compromise...extra cardio. There are no excuses for failure when we do everything we can in order to succeed. And yet, failure will still come to even the most prepared. Luckily, we learn more from failure than we do from success. Finding that perfect point between our mind and body is elusive, if not impossible (perfection is by evolutionary standards, an impossibility because of the amount of variables involved). Although learning the intricacies that co-exist between mind and body, by trial and error, is not just the only way to improve, but also the most satisfying...especially when it comes to the results we both see and enjoy as a result of our efforts. |
| Ever since I was a child, I've been clumsy. And not just clumsy, but awkward...different...an outsider. When two captains were choosing their teams, I would invariably be the last one picked. I didn't think I was that bad, but then, what would I know? The only solace was, or should I say, is, I am not alone. And when you think about it, without us, the losers and freaks of this world, who would the cool kids have to laugh at...to ridicule and pick last? Of course, we, the weirdos and vagabonds, never ever lose our ability to clap at the wrong place in the movie (thanks David) or drop whatever it is we drop, much to the amusement of our friends. Oh, yes, we, the pariahs and recreants, do have friends (mostly), after all, every group needs a goof off...an oddball or a bottom feeder. Someone to look down on in the kindest and most sympathetic way. There are times here on WdC when I, an ostracized nonconformist, can feel my slightly off-centre persona being pushed aside in preference for cooler, prettier and/or more intelligent people. Like when I review someone's work... and then wait...holding my breath until said author replies with a, "Thanks for taking the time and gifting me your thoughts" kind of thing. Of course, expectations will often lead to disappointment, and being one of the slow and marginalized ones, it can sometimes take a while for things to sink in. Admittedly, this generally only applies when dealing with the upper echelons of the group as a whole, and the majority of people do have these old-fashioned notions of manners and appreciation. And if any one group could be labelled old-fashioned, it is us clumsies. That may sound a little bitter, and to a degree, it is (after a lifetime of ignorance, it's hard not to be a little bitter...and besides, very few care about how I, a lowlife iconoclast, feel anyway). So, why not lash out every now and then, just to see if anyone is actually listening? But on the whole, we clumsies take it in our stride. I mean, what choice do we have...really. Now, here's the thing...when I say that we, the overweight, the lonely and the outcasts, are not alone, what I really mean is that we, the previously and aforementioned underperformers, are the majority. And the cool, the chic`, the beautiful and the (so-called) smart people, are the minority (can't have too many winners hogging the limelight, after all). All I can say about that is they are lucky because we, the ugly and socially challenged, are a very forgiving and tolerant group of individuals (barring the occasional rant from one or two bitter, psychotic lepers...like me, here..."Pass me my finger, please! It fell off while I was waving it at them"). We must also take into consideration the crossover group...the nexus people who belong to the majority (us misfits and rejects), but who strive to be cooler, edgier, and much better than those they know as well as they know themselves and yet, don't want to be associated with...let's call them the Tryhards, for want of a better word. These people, who try very hard, only manage to score credits, but never honours nor passes, and are the middle ground between them and us...them being the jocks and the coolest and brightest of the bunch...and us being...well, just us...the rest And so...here we are (uncomfortable silences ONLY apply to them, because we, the deviants and transgressors, are so used to silence that we have actually come to enjoy those quiet moments...and lucky for us that is). There's only one thing I like about trends...and that is they shift. I always knew that one day, we, the anxious and the meek, would have our day in the sun. We just have to make sure we, the pale and pasty, are covered from head to toe in sunscreen and SPF 40 beachwear...styling...and don't forget the floppy hat. Well, I'm pretty sure that one day we will. I can't wait to kick sand in the face of some muscle-bound example of perfection and handsomeness. And when I do, for sure I will trip over my own feet and apologise profusely. After all, accidents do happen, especially to Mwah. |
| Preparing the house for sale has fallen off the priority list. I still have around five months until the pressure will come on to sell, provided all of my siblings still agree to the terms of the deed of family arrangement. I haven't received all of the signatures as yet (two have signed, and one has assured me her's is signed and on the way. Which leaves only one in limbo). Until I have them all locked in, it's possible it could blow out to nine months or more before I will know if there are to be any challenges to Mom's Will. I doubt the latter will be the case. My offer was generous, to say the least, but you never know in cases where spite or possible adverse legal advice might come into play. In any case, I am prepared for the long haul if that becomes necessary. Today I did the double. The week and a half off training has done me no harm. In fact, after three solid months of training every day, the break was necessary to recharge and reload for the next phase. I'm already pushing the same weights as before the break, and my fitness is about the same level. To say I am looking forward to the next few months, would be an understatement. I feel good...really good, and as long as I stick to the program (the program being no drugs), then the sky is the limit as far as my physical and mental well-being goes. Boredom is my number one enemy and the main cause of a possible relapse. I will have to think of ways to alleviate this threat. Being proactive will be the key. To find the thing that is missing before my idle mind turns to drugs as a way to pass the time. |
| I received a text from Katie, our group facilitator, on Tuesday, telling me that there would be no meetings for two weeks. I had missed the week before because I wasn't ready to face the group knowing that I had to face the music on my decision to use. Once I knew the meeting wasn't on, my mind went to the couple who live just around the corner from me. I felt somewhat guilty that I hadn't made the effort to contact them. Ash had tried to show me friendship by sharing his cell number, but for reasons of my own, I thought better of making that call. Because I had healed well enough both mentally and physically from my fall, I made the call and was immediately invited to their home for dinner. It was great to get out of the house and the half a mile walk there had me burning even more calories than the bike ride earlier...a win-win if ever there was one. Of course, I told them about what had happened, hoping it wouldn't trigger a negative reaction from either of them. This is always a concern when dealing with addiction. The fear is my bad decision will in some way lead someone else to make a similar bad decision. But they were fine about it and had been doing really well themselves. We had curried sausages and vegetables that Ash made and after dinner, Tamara watched her soap while Ash and I sat outside and contemplated the universe. I didn't stay too long and enjoyed the walk home and for once, it felt nice to arrive at an empty house. I got myself some salted caramel ice cream for dessert and relaxed for the rest of the night. On the walk home from dinner, I suspected that my legs would feel the extra workload the next day. Riding a bike is easy when that's what you do, but walking a brisk half mile twice in one night is a different story altogether. Then, last night, my suspicions came to the fore when I couldn't sleep because of the aches and sharp, spasmodic pains in my thighs. I ended up taking a couple of paracetamol tablets at 2.00 am through sheer frustration and finally fell asleep. Today I got back out on my bike and rode like the wind. I wrote a reply to Stik's on a Boat's blog post today "American Hot Shit" called Never Mind the Sean Connery Jokes, concerning therapy for men. It had me considering what is the best way to deal with our (men's) issues. I have come to the conclusion that no one form of therapy is enough to get a balanced outlook on life. We all need to feel good about ourselves and that includes both our mental and physical states. And although I advocated group sessions as a way to find camaraderie and others with similar issues, this method alone falls short of the mark because it doesn't focus on the crux of the issues and what causes those issues in the first place. One-on-one can focus in on them, but unless there is a healthy respect and a good connection between the counsellor and client, there may be a tendency to fall off before real progress can be made.The blog post I refer to asked the question of using exercise as a type of therapy...in a sense, a one size fits all approach. This is where, in my opinion, there will always be a shortfall if a person expects things to be balanced. But in my case combining them all...group, where I have accountability, camaraderie and respect among my peers. One-on-one...where I can explore all of the facets of what exactly is troubling me, together with an exercise program that pushes me to become stronger and healthier, along with a common sense approach to diet and the lifestyle choices I make, sure sounds like a winning formula. Now ALL I have to do is implement it and make it work for me. |
| There's something about a new pair of sneakers that makes me happy. As some of you may remember, when I was seventeen, I was run down by a car and subsequently broke my right femur. Two years and several major surgeries later and my right leg is now one inch shorter than the other. The outcome is that every pair of runners I buy must be built up with a wedge...zero on the toe, a half inch on the instep and one whole inch on the heel. The craftsmanship that goes into making the shoes look, for all intents and purposes alike, is worth the AD155 it costs to have the work done (plus the AD150 for the shoes). And as I sit here writing this post with my New Balance shoes on my feet, I feel like a million dollars. The nursing home my Mom spent her last days, sent me a letter yesterday. I opened it and discovered a final invoice, but instead of having an outstanding amount, it listed the seven hundred and seven dollars as zero...with a note reading, nothing to pay. It was nice of them to wave that final fee, but underneath the invoice was another sheet of paper, with a cheque for seven hundred and seven dollars attached and made out to the estate of my late mother. I have no idea why they decided to pay my Mom that amount, but as the saying goes, never look a gift horse in the mouth. So, I made a beeline for the bank and deposited the cheque into her estate account, which in a month or so, will belong to me. My Mom always was a generous lady, and so, it continues even after her death. Today I got back into the weights and then, despite the rain, got out on my bike and rode for forty minutes. The mini-relapse I suffered is now a thing of the past, even though I will keep the lessons I learned fresh in my mind. In a way, I'm glad it happened because now I can focus on the coming months and what I want to achieve in that time, instead of being distracted by thoughts of using. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, but it's a good sore and one I can deal with easily. |
| Today was a good day indeed. Normality has arrived and none too soon. I can finally go out in public without the fear of being looked at like a freak. I got out on my bike for the fourth day in a row and I feel almost as fit as I did before this latest episode. My emotions are settling and I believe I have come to terms with what happened...can even see the positives that have come from it. I am more determined than ever to achieve the ultimate reward and no longer live with addiction hanging over me every day and night. If I can rack up another three months will mean I have only used only once in six months...which would be almost unheard of in the past. While I was a caregiver, the government paid me to take care of my Mom. It wasn't a lot, but was certainly enough to live on. Now that she is no longer with us, I've had to transition to another type of payment and today, I received a letter confirming that it has been approved. A relief, to say the least. It's even less than I was on before, but it will tide me over until I can wind up the estate and sell the house. Once that is done, the world is my oyster. Thailand will be where I set my sights, but I plan to travel and see as much of SE Asia as I can over the following year until I find the place I know is home. No more mistakes...I simply cannot afford to do this again. I believe it would break me and at this point in my life, that would be such a shame. I am confident and for the first time in a couple of weeks, today I felt a smile on my face. I like this feeling and I plan to hold onto it. |
| Each day I feel better than the day before. Each day my mindset improves. I am still hurting, emotionally and physically, but it's mainly my mental state that concerns me. Never having suffered from depression in the past, it's hard to know exactly what it is, but I believe that I may be affected in some small way by this insidious condition. I will give myself more time to recover before speaking to my doctor about it. In my mind, having to take medication would be a huge setback. I understand that meds have helped so many, and I mean no disrespect to those who have to go down that path. I have always had a phobia of pharmaceuticals and for me, having to take antidepressants would be an absolute last resort. I'm back exercising every day, and this will once again be the key to my future health and happiness. I'll start doing weights again later in the week and try to shake these horrible feelings of dread and darkness that seem to come and go during the course of the day. My determination is still there to rid my life of meth, and there are some positives that have come from this latest fall. Normally I would be high right now and for months to come after a three-month break from meth has been shattered. But in this instance, I have ninety days clean, followed by a few days of use, and now, hopefully, another ninety and beyond being drug-free. Another positive is the scare I received. This episode has taken a lot out of me, and if I can retain some of this fear going forward, should help next time I start slipping down that slope to relapse. |
| Things are looking brighter today. I am coming to terms with what happened and have come to the conclusion that kicking myself serves me no good whatsoever. I got back out on the bike today and managed to ride the full circuit. I'll start doing weights again in the coming week. It's hard to feel sorry for myself, although, that's what I feel like doing. I'm going to try and keep my head up and not allow the darkness to envelop my life. All in all, improvements have come...and hopefully tomorrow, I will see things in an even brighter light. |
| It gets harder every time. Failing time and again depletes my morale. I am struggling to come up with words...staring blankly at the screen, not knowing what to say next. It's frightening, to say the least. The hope is I will recover my thoughts and get back to normal, but right now, I'm not sure if that will be the case. Darkness has replaced light. The clear vision I had before is now blurred. The confidence I had built up over the last three months is gone, and in its place, only questions remain. I am lost. Today, I took my first steps. I had run out of supplies and although I didn't want to go out in public, it was either that or scrape up whatever I could from what remained. I got in and out of the store as quickly as I could...eyes down. And this afternoon, I got out on my bike for a short ride. It was all I could manage to do. Tomorrow will be better. I have food in the house and hopefully, things will look a little less bleak than they do today. |
| First of all, let me apologise if there are any technical deficiencies in the words that follow. My brain is still very fuzzy, and even though my vision has almost returned to normal, everything is still more difficult than they were before this latest fall. In the past, post-relapse meant months of continued use, until once again, I decide to stop. A cycle I have repeated over and over without finding a way to break it. Ninety days off is a great achievement, but only if followed by another ninety days of not using drugs. I need help...serious help. A few months ago, I was considering rehab, but with my mother's health in decline, I didn't follow it up. This episode has taught me something...it isn't when I initially stop using that I need that kind of intervention. It is around the ninety-day mark after I stop that I need that intensive counselling. The problems with this are many, and for now, I am safe from making this kind of mistake again. I still have a lot to do. Because of this, I've decided to forego my holiday, so I can take a bit more time now to recover. |
| I thought I knew what rock bottom would be like...but that was wishful thinking. No one knows what that popular saying really is until they are there...and then, you know. And the thought keeps occurring to me if I will ever go there again. Even madness cannot hold a shine on addiction when it comes to sheer perspicacity. 'One more time' sounded like a good enough excuse to tell anyone who needed to know. Of course, I would lie to the rest. Omission is the key to a successful drug binge. As I try to write this post, I have no depth perception and both hands have no feeling from my middle fingers to the heel. My focus is blunted to the point where I am struggling to think and if I were to share with you all of the things that happened to me to cause these (and many others) symptoms, you would be shocked. In my mind, I was somewhere else. I don't really know where, but it wasn't here in my home. As fortune would have it, the meth I had must have been very strong, and because I hadn't had any during the previous three months (and the fact that we always begin where we left off), the perfect storm was brewing and about to let all hell loose upon my soul. Once I had that first dose, all logic and any common sense went out the door. It wasn't until later, after having more meth, that I realised there was something in my eye. When I went to look in the mirror, it wasn't a spec of dust, but something alive and evil. I knew it couldn't remain in there, so I began pulling out all the eyelashes on the top rim with a pair of tweezers to somehow make it leave. After God knows how long I was digging around in my eye, I stopped. But I knew that thing was still in there behind my eyeball and so, for three days, I tried to get that thing out of my eye. I'm lucky not to be blinded by my persistence. I know that thing is still in there, but at least now I have its respect. It's seen what I am willing to do, and the pain I am willing to go through to try and rid myself of its presence. I'm a mess...no, I am beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Yesterday, I broke down, and it took a long time to regather myself. I felt more alone then than I have in my entire life. I needed someone to hold me and tell me I was going to be alright. But there was no one and the only way to stop what was going on was to call myself a loser and that I was soft. I had to do something. I apologise to everyone for failing again. But this is not the end. I won't stop trying until I am either dead or get meth out of my life forever.. |
| Reality can be a scary thing to face. For many years, it's been my dream to move to Thailand and begin a new life. But now things are becoming irreversible as a matter of course, I am shitting my pants in fear. Ideally (plan A), would have been to keep my home, rent it out and then, if things go awry, that home becomes plan B. Unfortunately, this isn't possible, so I am just going to have to face my fear and allow the future to be a little less structured than I would like...I think they call it winging it. I have time before the inevitable sale of the house and my relocation. I need to use the time wisely, whilst remaining committed and on track because this isn't the one where I want to drop the ball. There is too much at stake (a roof over my head) to even consider. I know I will be OK. I know there will be days when I will question my decisions I know how much hard work lies ahead...but, I also know that once I achieve my goals, I will look back and be proud...and hopefully, happy. |
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