I still struggle but I am no longer a morning vodka drinker

It might take a little coffee or probably a few rounds of beer or
any other booze you could get your hands on when it comes to
relaxing after a hard day’s work. Well, yeah I’m guilty about that
one as well, unless I’m caught dead wearing a lampshade over my
head after a few rounds of vodkaÖ half-naked! Okay, bad example and
I apologise to everyone reading this after getting nightmares about
me in that state of drunken stupor. Just don’t ask how it happened, please.

I still struggle but I am no longer a morning vodka drinker.

Just don’t ask how it happened, please. Let’s try to put all that behind
us and move forward.

But what’s really interesting is that how do people go through the
usual part of life when faced with vein-popping stress? I mean, the
new age thing like Zen or yoga is one of the good things and it
actually works. Is there room for the intellectual side of people
who can actually smell the roses-in-a-can while on the move? It
kind of had me thinking that there really must be something in this
‘mind-over-matter’ thing.

Humour is indeed the best medicine there is whenever you are. Imean anyone can pay good money to listen to a comedian just to make
you wet your pants after laughing so hard. Despite of what’s been
happening, and to those who has gone though the ordeal, it’s better
to just laugh while facing the troubles with a clear mind than
anger with a clouded vision.
“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” At
least he doesn’t smite us with lightning, and I’m thankful for that.

And despite of what may happen to all of us in the next ten,
twenty, or even thirty years, I guess we all have to see things in
a different kind of light and not just perspective. I can’t seem to
imagine life without any piece of wisdom that could guide us.Whether we’re religious or not, it takes more courage to accept
your fears and learn how to deal with them is all that matters when
it comes to even just getting along.

And to sum things up, here is the last nugget of wisdom to go byÖ
however, whenever, and wherever we may be.

“The talent for being happy is appreciating and liking what you
have, instead of what you have.”
many thanks , David

www.brokenopenscars.com  my website and forum 

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disappear !

My drinking make me feel beautiful or important or wanted. It doesn’t even make me feel special. It doesn’t remedy anything.
Isolation, takes me seriously. But,vodka doesn’t ask any questions. It doesn’t pull away from me when I reach for it. It just is. And, it just “does” whatever it does. It eases….it eases my loneliness…makes me feel a little less bored. It fools me into believing that I don’t have to think about tomorrow…at least for this one moment…these few moments when I know the bottle’s not empty…as long as there’s still vodka in that little pint…as long as there’s a gas station with a tall can of beer for a dollar…if there’s nothing else (which, there usually isn’t) and I’ve gotten that – desperate – then there’s always that to look forward to.
The allure whispers ,
I feel destined to live a life of solitude where no one can reach me because I have proven to be incapable of reaching people.
So, I turn to this poison…it quiets the conviction in my heart.
Stuck in the moment , a huge run in my pantyhose, dry lips and the doorbell rings. Rewind, what is all this ?
Medication needed, relapse greeted.
Shut the door

( I found this today, I wrote it a months before going to Castle Craig. Sometimes , I still can feel this way .Only today, I fight my demons bit harder )

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I met my true self today

 

I met my true self today sitting in a dark corner.
With knees hugging her chest, dust covering her like a second layer of skin, cobwebs becoming one with her fingertips. Insecurities, broken dreams, discarded hopes wrapped around her like armor. She’s never seen the light of day. Never kissed the rays of the sun or sang along with the morning breeze or dance with the spring flowers or watched the leaves play at being chameleons every fall.
She’s afraid of the light. In the light there’s people who are going to be her judge, jury and executioner before a sound passes by on her lips. She tells herself daily.
She rather isolate herself in the icy corner where it’s safe than be like all the others and set foot into the light just to be left’d feeling rejected and tormented. It’s better this way, she tells me.
I’m full of panic and sadness knowing no matter what I tell my true self, she will never move from her little corner. She’ll die there and no one will be the wiser, not even me. No, this directive is aimed at all you casual Cosmo lovers, you Saturday night vodka martini drinkers, you Bloody Mary and vodka tonic tipplers.
You probably developed your taste for vodka way back before you really knew much about drinking, precisely because vodka didn’t have much taste. You could mix it with anything — Gatorade, say — and manage to get efficiently wasted .
You there, with the coffee mug full of clear liquid, sipping vodka because you think it won’t make you reek of alcohol at your 9 a.m. meeting: I’m not actually talking to you.

 

 

 

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