NOT ME. FROM THE USA. I am one month short of being 29 years Clean.
Twenty-eight years ago the worst thing about me was that I couldn’t stop using drugs—and stay stopped. My DOC was cocaine, but I was a garbage head; I would partake in whatever was going around, especially if it was free. As a reasonably attractive, thirty-something woman whose motto was I work hard so I deserve to party hardy, drugs were easy to come by. And alcohol, being legal, was the socially acceptable, standby attitude adjuster.I had known for many years that I was addicted to drugs, but I wasn’t ready to do anything about it until my family was forced apart, police and social services were meddling in my affairs, and I was worried about losing my two children. At first, even this was insufficient to cause a change in my behavior. However, within a short time I found myself alone, locked in my master bathroom, free-basing, and not enjoying it at all. In fact, all I could do was cry! This was the beginning of the end for me.My previous attempts at staying clean, usually prompted by severe sickness or humiliation of some sort, always ended with me convincing myself that because I stopped for a period of time and because I had a good job, a nice home and car, I was now in control. Or I’d get drunk, think about using, and go get high. Even though I wasn’t ready to admit I was an alcoholic, I had the desire to stop drinking in order to stay away from my DOC. This was good news when I walked into my first AA meeting; it meant I belonged even though I was uncertain if I was an alcoholic.
Source: The Best Thing About Me (12 days shy of 28 years clean and sober) | Addiction Unscripted
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Source: Addiction Unscripted’s Top 25 Recovery Bloggers | Addiction Unscripted
The Not-So-Big ApproachThomas has also pioneered small, intimate residences that he calls Green Houses, where residents have their own bedrooms and bathrooms.The result: “Within six weeks, they had to send a truck around to pick up all the wheelchairs,” Thomas told the Post. “You know why most people [in nursing homes] use wheelchairs? Because the buildings are so damn big.”
Source: Dr. Bill Thomas
Woke disturbed for the first time in a week or so. The waking dream was of my trying to speak to one of the sisters at the hospital and being greeted by Chris on the phone with impatience. So many months of precisely that. What a pain it has been – official help has been inefficient and minimal. Very often patronising and generic.
Now I am sitting in my living room with steamrollers and caterpillars rumbling the house and street for a purpose known only to Council.
I don’t think I can even get the Pony and get out of here. They have dug up right to my front door. Near enough.
I was expecting a Bello Call this morning as well and that hasn’t come.
Today is not at all going as I would like. I can hang out the washing and chill. Things will change again. They surely will.
HANDS OFF AGAIN, LYNNE.
Hands off. Feels a bit like Bob Earle’s huddle in his basement wondering whether or not to leave his wife.
Give me a sign – says he to God.
I did, Bob – says God.
Something less would have sufficed, God.
Nothing less did, Bob.
I am a a little bit of a loss today. I can’t get out. Its really noisy at home. My head is busy and I am at a loose end. I do not like this much. Perhaps I will not start the next part of my day with Country Music. I listened to Willie Nelson on waking so now I have Andrew H’s “tear in the glass eye. “
Turns out my Girl is sick with one of the migraines she suffers from. Poor wee lass.
The Council seems to be at Lunch and all is quiet on the Southern Front.
In the end , you just have to laugh. I shall have party pies for lunch. Then I shall go to bed on a hot electric blanket and read a Harry Dresden book.
Let the Workers Work !