So I've managed 31 days without alcohol. Suck it, voice in the back of my head that constantly tells me I fail at everything. For those whom drinking constitutes a couple of light ales when on a night out with friends and colleagues, this probably doesn't sound that impressive, but please bear in mind my own relationship with booze is anything but healthy. While I've never felt any physical compunction to drink my go to response whenever I'm bored or at a loose end is to grab a couple of stellas or equivalent and shut my brain down for the evening. The problem with this, of course, is that I tend to get bored a lot and when repeated over months and years it becomes quite apparent that I am slowly poisoning myself.
I had one moment of reverse inspiration that was somewhat sobering - no pun intended. A couple of weeks ago one of my sisters forwarded me a picture of my mam's ex-boyfriend. Using the term 'boyfriend' for a man in his fifties always feels slightly wrong and doubly so here as I was shocked to find he now looked like a geriatric. The man was, and presumably still is, an alcoholic and looking at him for the first time in about a decade it's readily apparent that it's ravaged him. Maybe, just maybe, it was just a shitty picture, but apparently he's also well on his way down the path of alcohol induced dementia, at least according to one of my brothers who bumped into him on the bus. He apparently rambled on incoherently at great length, never twigging who my brother, who he lived in the same house as for a number of years, was. The ageing effects of any sort of substance abuse is hardly news (hell, living round the corner from a couple of doss houses, it's something I see everytime I pop to the shops) but to see its effects on somebody who in an alternate universe somewhere might have been my step dad certainly gave me pause for thought.
I was quite relieved that I managed the month without any struggle, although the fact that I was worried about this in the first place probably says more than I'm willing to admit. I've lost weight, I'm sleeping better, I feel like I have more time and money and I no longer fear the scorn of the bin men as they pick up rubbish bags that clink and clank like a boozy version of The Telltale Heart. I've also discovered that I can talk to animals. Granted, the animals do not talk back, but it's early days. I imagine I'll be off the wagon next week as it's my sister's birthday, but for now I'll toast your health with a warm mug of ovaltine, send out a thank you to anybody who was kind enough to sponsor me and bid you adieu
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
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