I’m not looking back

But I want to look around me now

Time stands still

See more of the people

And the places that surround me now

Today is a milestone day, a day I have pondered every day for three hundred and sixty five days, one day at a time…

I am one year clean and sober.

But is it tempting fate, or gloating to celebrate such an ‘anniversary’?

Or, is it important to mark the event with some kind of acknowledgement…? I’m not so sure, I guess I would rather salute it with a humble nod and go about my business as just another day, grateful in the knowledge that life is no longer a juggling of demons and escape routes, rather than sing my own praises.

As I see it; that devil’s still very much right outside my door, if I slacken off and leave that door unknowingly ajar then I risk a year’s worth of struggle, effort and hardwon sobriety… So I think I shall settle for a few words to mark the occasion. The locks are stronger and the door is substantially thicker, but as I’ve come to realise; it’s a cunning fucker that awaits its prey to fall fowl to old behaviours, character defects, weaknesses and the ever imminent trigger scenario, finger hovering above the dreaded fuck it button.

I do not exactly feel ‘proud’ of this achievement, rather, I feel grateful, grounded and more guided, overwhelmed by humility and gratitude that I am here, now living life to the best of my abilities, sanity somewhat intact and no more skeletons in the warped wardrobe/closet of sin. No longer governed by fear and less likely to engage in negativity and opinions of others, to offer help where it is needed and to seek out the selfless path of altruism in any given scenario… not to seek a sainthood and fly a cringeworthy flag of martyrdom, but to seek continued sobriety and serenity… however… These are not very easy operatives.

There are people whom I feel I have not yet fully reconnected with, people who mean so very much to me, people whom I hurt considerably while stumbling in the upside down turbulence haze, people who endured my erratic, confusing and seemingly cruel behaviour… people I am beyond grateful to have blessed my life, with their unrelenting friendship and the storms I brought upon them, to which they weathered… I will address this in a deserving later post, but these people whom are dear to my heart I shall endeavour to reconnect with and be there for -amidst a healthier future. There is nothing more priceless than friendship and the underlying love at its core, for that I will be loyally and eternally grateful for!

Before June 13th 2017, my life was cosmically a shambles (to quote David St Hubbins… patron saint of quality footwear) I was killing myself to live:

It’s not easy to weather life’s inevitable pains and misfortunes against the grain of soul consuming addictions, but it’s a darn sight more manageable with a clear head and a programme there at any given time to offer guidance, compassion or community. That sense of belonging to an understanding congregation that was so lost on me before, to the outside world of ‘normal Norman’s’ this new found community is seemingly made up of lost boys and girls, misguided misfits, decrepit alcoholic/junkie troubadours and god bothering bible bashing do-gooder types and typeenoes! …and yes, while there are certainly the cliched fraternity nestled amongst the jilted and jaded disciples of despair -there are also the winners, those who inspire just by being in attendance and can turn a suicidal-Susan into a Susan-perb visionary just by recounting their story, their hope and strength in recovery, and ultimately inspire through resonating identification of how they too were once flirting with death as a preferred outcome, rather than a haphazard, accidental conclusion to a dead end street, lined with scepticism, self loathing and disapproval. It’s all there to be sought in the fellowships, and I have discovered this to be a fundamental ingredient to arriving at the ass end of a full year in sobriety.

To thine own self be true…

I am here with an AA year coin/chip in my pocket and a looooong bizarre year under my belt, simply because I still feel now how I did a year ago: determined, dedicated, and -the most vital ingredient for a successful recovery- I wanted it for myself, not for anyone else and not a half arsed attempt, knowing full well in the back of my once bamboozled brain box that I would be able to sneak a drink if shit got ‘that bad’ again… it was always an option, right!?!

But no…

Not this dude, not this time, no fucking way am I going back to that fucking hellish place of lies, betrayals and decrepitude! This time I wanted it and that motivation has served me well through some testing, turbulent times this past year, through the biggest life changes I think I can ever remember making, and not once relying on a sneaky glug of Dutch courage, sordid sniff of putrid powders or a toxic toke of whacky backy wind downs! In other words; facing shit rather than running away from it… and documenting the fight via shameless sweaty selfies with Pantera chugging in me lug olezzz. (R.I.P Vinnie Paul you tub phumpin’ power house)

Doing life on life’s terms free from addiction, managing my own thoughts, feelings and behaviours, knowing full well they are just that- my own, no one else to be held accountable or be blamed for my dastardly doings any more, if one fucks up, own it …no matter what the outcome, by living an honest, simple existence in life terms the potential for drama or ill will/feeling is diminished to such an extent that one wonders what all the fucking fuss and running away was all about in the first place.

I don’t pretend to be who I am not any more and surprisingly people seem to tolerate my eccentricities, peculiarities and warped fashion senses, maybe not the music taste particularly, but I am not going to tame any of that shit down just because society tells me David Lee Roth is cheesy and dresses like their mum did in the eighties…

No no, I own it even more because that was one of my main problem areas, not being able to feel comfortable in my own skin, I was who I was, a cheesy, uncool, hair metal loving, John Hughes movie quoting romantic, awkward, overly sensitive dweeb with a obscure/shite sense of humour but a cunning ability to enthuse, engage, make myself chuckle and a pretty saucy knack for rocking the fuck out and dancing to my own beats, I simply felt as though I wasn’t allowed or able to live life on my own terms, and that I was forever an embarrassment to others as well as to myself, trapped in a body I hated, liking things everybody around me hated and liking girls who seemed to only notice me if I did something embarrassing …like breathing!

That is how I felt and how I came to rely on chemistry to alter my vision and senses, becoming pop-eye after a can of spinach or the man of peel himself; Bananaman after… a banana! That’s how it started anyway! Then the claws got stuck in and I was no longer Eric who had a narna to transform himself when necessary, I became a lame, saggy pantaloon’d vermin magnet with a limp, blackening mushy banana drip fix, constantly drying up and never quite delivering the flextastic goods, only becoming noticeable when the next fix was needed… a mind and body so accustomed to poison fuel that it refused to function without it and that girls and boys darn well nearly turned out the lights for ole Sambone.

Imagine banana man dying from a banana overdose… he knew his fruity limits and never did that annoyingly typical, and sometimes fateful alcoholic act of “just one more” because that ‘just one more’ drink, line, smoke, pin never stops when your in the addictions grasp and that tit known as tolerance deceives you in the end, ever strengthening the effects until one is so weak and used up that the only buzz one can cop is that inevitable death rattle outa here and then all you got is a really shit looking corpse that some poor long suffering affiliates having to dispose of with some kind of ceremonious charade, pretending it was such a loss to everyone… when really it was more than likely a huge relief.

So onwards it is, with no airs or graces, living life on my own newly disciplined terms and no longer in it for myself, because there really is strength in numbers and as a community, funnily enough something I strongly feel we; as a society -have lost in recent times of brexit’d trumpism’s, false digital avatars, social media platforms/’friendships’ and all that shiz… no one needs to repeatedly bear witness to what you had for dinner or those really realistic painted on fucking eyebrows!

Whatever fellowship or tribe you feel aligned to, your street, your church, your family, your goonies gang or band, swingers group or birdwatching enthusiasts -the problems shared and laid bare are so much easier to overcome and stay focused in and through as part of a community. We can’t argue with history, but we can surely balk and question modernity and so called ‘progress’, look back and see how simpler times arguably meant stronger values. Can you imagine soldiers taking selfies in the trenches of world war 1 & 2!!!? Great googlely moogely!!! But then again- can you imagine a dweeb blogging about recovery from addictions while others ran for their lives to the sound of air raid sirens… we are all guilty of getting swept up in the falsification of these digitally divisive times and their supposedly progressive avenues.

Fuck man, I’m getting old, and the future sure ain’t what it used to be… I didn’t sober up to be bitched at because I was apparently online when you messaged me and I failed to reply immediately… forgive thee for I was busy living a life I had neglected for so so long… but therein lies my contradiction – I still get angry and I can still be a selfish tit… just don’t message me that, tell it me to my face or speak it in my ear hole, but do speak up as I am frightfully deaf in the post apocalyptic ballet!

So where the feck was I? Oh yeah, so today I got my sobriety and I’m not ashamed of it, nor do I take it for granted, always aware of protecting it and avoiding the pitfalls of my past that lead me to stray from the abstinent route I now know to be my only route! I have my family and close friends (both newfound and long suffering) my awesome Jedi like sponsor, I have my beloved cheesy music, David lee Roth and my creative endeavours that give me that buzz I recall from pre-problem times… and I’m a happy dude! So as long as I keep aligned, guided and disciplined to my program and never exceed my capabilities, I hope I’m gonna be around boring whomever is reading my ramblings for many a year to come.

Life is fucking awesome, and when it’s not… (which it regularly isn’t) it’s still a darn sight better than when there was two of everything, and I had to squint and cover one eye just to see… today I am grateful for everything (even the bemoaning on social media) and I’m truly so very lucky to have this chance and I would be a complete fucking numpty to go and (as my sponsor Would say) bollocks this up, so I’m kinda not gonna go do that… for ever… one day at a time.

If you want something bad enough and put in the effort/work needed to achieve or obtain it, the odds are very much in your favour… it’s the law of attraction, ask and it is given, keep sluggin’ it out until results start landing like bolts of lightning, then slug even harder because absolutely nothing is a given unless you give it traction, through body and mind alignment, through blood, sweat and tears… this past year I have cried, bled and sweat profusely… one slug at a time, one day at a time.

And things are starting to come into bloom again after a long hard slog, the future is looking really rather ruddy good…

Peace, luv & hugz y’all,

Sammy x