I am 77 Years old and have been consuming alcohol for some 60 odd years, over this period in many occupations and circumstances I have been – not realising it – slowly but surely – sliding down the throat of a Pitcher plant. Just like a fly, the further down the throat you slide, the
Category: Our Stories
I worked for 45 years to save for a comfy retirement. Work, work, work… it’s pretty much all I did for 5/7ths of my week apart from travel for 4 hours a day to and from my home to my clients. I was mostly satisfied with the life I’d chosen. My father instilled in me
” Individualistic Anarchism emphasises the individual and their will over external determinants such as groups, society, traditions, and ideological systems “ I have a friend who works with a passion from Monday to Friday. Saturday morning for him is reserved exclusively for completing the weekly shopping. Religiously. I was surprised to receive an MMS of
Then there were the patients who had real problems with alcohol. The ones who came in asking for help. The ones whose loved ones came in asking for help. Surely, in my mind I wasn’t like that. Surely I wasn’t “that bad”. In reality, oh yes, I was that bad. That’s the beauty of denial. We can twist our versions of reality however we would like to. We can twist our truths to allow us to continue on with this kind of self inflicted abuse.
As I muddled through my mid forties it seemed that the way I dealt with every emotion was to get hammered. I was haunted that I was setting my young son Joseph up for a life battling addiction simply by the example I set. At the same time, I noticed that my mental abilities were