Alcoholism

Since my post the other day and my continued forays into the social world (sans alcohol), I've been doing a bit of thinking (what's new??)

I've spoken many times about my relationship with alcohol on this blog. And I've always been very quick to point out that I wasn't an alcoholic per se. But last night I thought maybe I should tighten up on my understanding of the definition "Alcoholic".

Enter: Wikipedia

First off, there are very conflicting definitions of alcoholism. Which confirms my suspicion that I shouldn't dismiss the label altogether in my case. The alcoholism article in Wikipedia is huge, and reflects all these conflicting viewpoints. Some of them paint me into the alcoholic picture 100%. Like the following quick test:

Two "yes" responses indicate that the respondent should be investigated further. The questionnaire asks the following questions:

1. Have you ever felt you needed to Cut down on your drinking?
2. Have people Annoyed you by criticizing your drinking?
3. Have you ever felt Guilty about drinking?
4. Have you ever felt you needed a drink first thing in the morning (Eye-opener) to steady your nerves or to get rid of a hangover?

Two Yeses??? Well BPG answered a resounding affirmative for all 4! So according to that little angle, I am was an Alcoholic thru-n-thru.

But here's another "definition":

Misuse, problem use, and heavy use do not have standard definitions, but suggest consumption of alcohol beyond the point where it causes physical, social, or moral harm to the drinker.

This definition in my case is more problematic. OK, so I suppose the terrible hangovers and accompanying depression could count as physical harm. And I carried on putting myself through this physical discomfort time and time again.

BUT: social harm??? NO WAYS - if anything STOPPING alcohol has done my life social harm. In fact, looking back at my life I can honestly say that for me, alcohol could be seen as a "great enabler".

Let me explain. If one word was used to capture BPG's total disposition in life it is this: SHY. Not BiPolar, not depressed, not genius :), but plain ol' shy. A week or 2 ago I blogged that my defining characteristic was RECLUSE, but in fact, SHY lies behind even this. Readers of this blog may be surprised to hear I'm shy. But that is to be expected (as you will see in my forthcoming polemic) because the internet, like alcohol, is a great enabler for shy people.

Tis true. Had I not partaken in the merry mug-fulls, I woulda led a wayyy more isolated life. Probly ended up a goddam timid and obscure professor in an obscure lil' office in an obscure lil' university, on an obscure little planet*. But with the chutzpa (dutch courage?) the bottle gave me, I went to places I would never have been, done things I would never have done, made friends I would neva have made. Sheesh, most of my girlfriends over the years were met in bars! (cliche I know, but considering I even met Mrs M in a bar, the boy-meets-girl-at-bar story can have happy endings).

So, what I am saying is that the "persistent use of alcohol despite negative consequences. " definition leaves it wide open as to whether I was an alcoholic or not.

BOTTOM LINE:
At this point whether or not I was an alcoholic is irrelevant - my social life is going fine (better?) without it. But I just couldn't pass up such a wonderful opportunity to chew the cud and partake in a little mental masturbation.


*NOTE TO SELF: Huh? Is my present life any better????

Adventures in Meatspace

I've been pushing the boundaries with my social life this past week. Which is a very good and much needed thing. And, MOST importantly I've pushed them WITHOUT alcohol.

As I said before, I was never an alcoholic but I definitely depended on it to relax me in social situations. Ever since I was fifteen. And when you're only used to ever socialising with the nice warm shield of mild inebriation, it is no small effort to face social get2gethas for the fist time in 20 years without said shield. An activity I have very little experience in.

It started on Wednesday when one of my oldest friends was in town. S and I have been friends since grade 9. We belonged to the same group of weed addicts in High School, we got into MotoX together, we got into windsurfing together. We were fellow party animals in our 20s. Then the past 10 years S worked as a ski instructor in Europe and also NZ and Argentina. I'd see him every year or 2 when he popped into Cape Town.

Seeing old meatspace friends always makes me kinda anxious. Weird I know, but it does. So whenever S used to come around in the past, I'd crack a few beers. Not drunk or anything, just mellow - taking the edge off things. It was a kind of ritual for me.

When I decided to ditch alcohol ALLtogether 2 years ago, I knew it was gonna hit my social life, but figured it would be worth it just not to see ANYbody for 6 months. Problem is, the 6 months turned to 24 months and I am now a Hardcore, industrial strength recluse. Which is not the best for depression. In fact last time S came out, I completely avoided him. Never returned his calls or email. (I've done this with most of my friends over the past 2 years and its clear now that I've got quite a lot of repair work to do).

So this week when S contacted me, I didn't return the call for 2 days. But on Wednesday I thought, FCK it, I've gotta get out of this hole. So I saw S, sans alcohol. And you know what? I enjoyed it immensely.

So S invites Mrs M & me to his sisters place last night for a braai (barbeque for Nothern Hemispherians) and, lo and behold, we GO. Once again, sans alcohol. And you know what? I enjoyed it immensely.

Yep, I've started something new here, and I'm gonna proceed with it. I know it may sound completely bizzare and phobic to yous out there, but I'm insane remember, so I've got carte blanche to do insane things.

A small (tiny, weensy) step for normal peoploids, but a giant leap for BeePeeGee.

Joint

I've succumbed.

I'm sitting in my outside office, joint rolled, ready to smoke. It's 8h52am down here in Cape Town, plenty enough time to straighten up before Mrs M gets home. I'm not telling her because she would kill me.

I'll speak just now....

9:39am
Feeling really mellow. Like I'm in the middle of a really good meditation session. Straight after the joint (I only had 3 puffs) I went down to the beach. It was effortless. I felt my pleasurably aching shins from the climb up cape point on Sunday. The wind was howling so I pulled my jacket hood over my ears, and found a little hollow in the rock pools to rest my arse in. On the way back the wind was in my face and I leant into it letting the weight of my upperbody fall gently forwards.

Right now I've got Cat Stevens playing in the lounge. Haven't listened to him for ages. The Cd in the player was Spyra Gyro, which I played the other night for Mrs M's mothers birthday. Its exceptionally smooth. Smoother than Cat Stevens I'm thinking so I'm gonna take myself off down the passage and put some Spyra on. Or should I put that heavy bass dubb that Guy gave me last week...

I decided that the Cat Stevens was fine - just needed the volume amped a bit.

Sunshine keeps threatening to come out today. I wish it would. I used to be a cold weather person (Wet and cuddly) but a strange shift has overcome me the past few weeks. I'm loving sitting in the sunshine at every opportunity and can't wait for the vast abundance of summer African sunshine.

I failed to mention that I had a cigarette when I sat in the hollow in the rock pools. Didn't really enjoy it, but I need something. I've always needed something after a joint. Something to kind of take the edges off. Used to be alcohol. My fuck, I can't believe how I've given up alcohol. Nearly 2 years now. Not a drop. I maintain firmly that I was not an alcoholic, only in social situations and after weed.

Well I'm not gonna have a fckn drop right now. Probably head for another cigarette just now - but NO alcohol. Actually alcohol was the easiest to give up. Cigarettes second. It's weed that I'm going to struggle with the rest of my life...

10h15am
OK so I might be a little stoned. But I'm thinking that what I am writing right here is very coherent. If not more coherent than the usual crap. Certainly more in the "here and now" than the usual head-in-the-clouds shit. Fckn ironic huh??

Just had an awesome shower, something that, with the latest bout of depression, hasn't happened every day. Hot stinging jets of water drumming my back.

And that's where it came to me:
BiPolar Guy is a Master of Self Deception. Which is not a good thing.
Like, right now I haven't answered my work emails for 4 days. Usually, no matter how pretty shitty the days are, I ALWAYS stay on top of my email.

Truth be told, since yesterday midday I haven't even checked my mail. I'm too shit scared. Some fucker (probably from Friday) is soon gonna send a rude-and-nasty through about the lack of efficiency and response. So it's started this downward spiral. Don't check your email in case there's nasty news -> more chance of nasty news -> Don't check your email in case there's nasty news -> more chance of nasty news -> etc. etc. Classic BPG Self sabotage.

...Like last week was the all time low in terms of working hours put in. Like this week is heading to break that record. Like my credit card balance is setting new records on the upside.

Like: i'M IGNORING ALL OF THIS.

Ok, so the joint opened the gates and smashed any form of Writer's Block right out of the park (as you, just maybe, might have noticed). But what about the WORKER'S BLOCK???

Somethings gotta give. And I guess the first thing that already gave was my resolve not to smoke weed again. Oh well, I'm off for a cigarette right now...speak a little later...

1o:44am
Am I really stoned? Maybe this is all just melodrama from 2 year's fantasizing and build-up about my next joint (I always knew there was going to be another one). I mean, shit, it was only 3 little puffs. Quality puffs for sure, I took our gardener Jackson into his township this morning and procured some of the Best. Pure African ganga from the hills of the Wild Coast. Not like the shit you get on the street.

But how do you know if you're stoned or not? At what point are you and at what point not?? Or am I just missing the point entirely.

Stoned or not, this morning's little adventure has definitly kick started something. Exactly what I wanted it to do. And the thing that got kickstarted, whatever it was, had definitely spluttered to a halt. Quite a long time ago methinks.

I'm really having fun here. Always dreamt about doing a post when I was stoned/semi-stoned/thinking-I'm-stoned. It's like my 2 therapies all in one. Yeah the blog has always been about therapy. And weed - yip that's a therapy too. I mean I don't use it to chill back into the couch and pig out on burgers and pornos. Nah, I use it to think. To try see things from a different perspective. Take stock of where I'm at. Shit I was even pacing up and down the verhanda just now, cigartette shuttling between hand and mouth. I've always been a pacer. I enjoy pacing, it makes things in your head clearer. And I positively cannot talk on the phone without walking around. Miss L seems to have inherited it from me. Ah Miss L and telephone bills...

But I suppose if there is any real critical perspective to be got right now it is:

After 5 cigarettes today - am I once again a cigarette smoker??
Will I have to go through the whole gaddam nicorette patch route again?

MORE IMPORTANTLY:

Am I now a weed smoker again? The weed is tucked away in a jar as we speak but there's sure damn enough for another 20 joints in there. Where is this all going to end up???

Tobacco and I

If there is one thing I must do today, and one thing only, it is to prevent myself from going to the cafe and purchasing a box of cigarettes.

Here's a breif history of my relationship with Nicotine:

• Started smoking at age 14
• By the time I finished school I was smoking a pack a day
• Stopped in my twenties after getting onto a hardcore fitness kick
• Stayed stopped for 10 years
• Started smoking lots of joints a couple years ago. Realised that as a former cig smoker I was needing my daily smoke more for the act of smoking than for the high. Woke up one day and told Mrs M (an ardent anti-smoker, and even ardenter anti-dope-smoker) that "this is it. today it's either a cigarette or a joint - you choose".
• Mrs M was getting desperate with my dope-smoking, so it was a no-brainer - rather get re-addicted to tobacco for a while.
• Smoked a pack a day for the next couple years.
• Stopped successfully in November last year
• Started again in Feb this year when I kidnapped my daughter and faced the possibility of being locked in a jail cell for a night.
• Stopped 3 months ago
• Right now: Major cravings building

So you can see I've stopped and started a few times. Which lends credibility to Mark Twain's quip: "stopping smoking is easy, I've done it a hundred times".

The problem now is that there's been a change in the craving bite-back.  The first time I stopped (for 10 years remember), the craving was INTENSE for about 4 days, then it tapered off and after a month I never looked back. When it's like that, any damn person can stop. Just keep your goddam hand away from your mouth (tie the fckn thing up if you have to) and you're half way home.

But now it's different. When I stopped 3 months ago, it was practically a non-event. Admittedly I used patches for 3 weeks, but within hours smoking was out of my mind.

No friggin longer! The craving is now sneaking back up, intensifying by the day. And it's not just a momentary thing that you can go for a quick shower and you'll be over it. It is starting to haunt me every minute of the day.

All I can do now is focus entirely on the nausea smoking often used to trigger. That horrible fuzzy, learing feeling in your lobes. That you had to lie down and couldn't do anything for a while. Problem is - I've forgotten how that felt.

Truth be told - stopping smoking completely was never the first prize for me. The ultimate acheivement would be to stay a pack-a-week smoker. One or 2 to chill in the evenings. A couple more on the weekend. Savouring every draw.

Not a chance. I'm the all-or-nothing idiot. Every time.

Weed Part 3

After yesterday's mourning of the loss of the muses, it was natural to start thinking about new sources for inspiration. And it was equally natural that this line of thinking would eventually lead to weed.

I never finished my mini-series on weed that I started posting last year. But it's time to pick up again. Let me tell you at the outset that if it wasn't for Mrs M's passionate opposition, BPG would smoke weed every day for the rest of his life.

WHY? It's all to do with being BiPolar and being creative. Us BiPolar's have zero control over our moods. OK so other writers and artists have their own Writer's Block, but I would argue that their chances of dispelling the blocks through pro-active mood management, are a hundred times more likely than a BiPolar's. Enter weed. Weed is literally the "magic pill", the grailsih elixer that finally gives the BiPolar some control of his/her moodscape.

Maybe it's unique to the way my brain is wired, but smoking weed for me is the most profound and mystical experience. I often think it's the only time I feel truly alive. You know the times when you feel you need a real "Reality Jolt"? Well dope does it for me. A couple of puffs and GOOONK - there is reality, in all it's naked beauty.

And things take on such meaning. Little things. Cooking a meal. Pulling weeds out the garden. Making a fire. SIGNificance abounds.

As a BiPolar ONE, and with experience of chronic psychosis, I can tell you too that psychosis (if you control the fear) is a very exhilerating place. And the Down that follows psychotic episodes is often a result of the Loss of the Magic.

Explaining what psychosis is like to Muggles is nigh impossible. But if there is one thing that comes remotely close to the Other World, it is chemically induced altered states. So the Psychotic and the Drug Tripper have close bonds (and also perhaps the genuine mystics). Who else has ever, could ever, taste these forbidden worlds? Which is why I've always had this incredible fascination with the drug culture.

Don't get me wrong - I know that weed can trigger latent chemical brain imbalances in people. Had these people not participated, they may even have lived totally normal lives (oblivios that deep down BiPolar Disorder lurked). But for me it's too late. The horse has already bolted. So the rationale that I should not smoke weed because it might trigger latent conditions such as BiPolar Disorder no longer cuts.

Phew, this must rate as my longest post. So I think I'll split it up and leave some for the morrow. I'll finish this one off where I started - with Mrs M. I love her dearly and am helluva lucky to have her. And yes, she is an anchor in my life. But when the cravings for dope get this bad, I can't help but think that sometimes anchors can be handbrakes.

More 2morro...

Weed Smokin' Days Part 2

Two days ago, on BiPolar Daily: BiPolar Guy hits his first depression at age 13. In order to get out of his cuccoon he hooks up with some serious dope smokers and the A class swat morphs into a bong-sucking addict.

By the second year to last year of High school, I was sent to my first psychologist. I'd been caught bunking school (playing traunt (gotta translate these things for my millions of international followers)). I remember the scene clearly:

Monday morning. History lessons. BiPolar Guy half asleep recovering from the weekend's excesses.

A knock on the classroom door. The vice principal. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Forget-her-name, but I need a word with BP Guy."

Turning to me: "BP Guy - where were you on Friday?"
BP Guy: "I was sick, Sir, didn't you get my Dad's sick note?"
Vice Principal (NOT amused): "I've just spoken to your Dad on the phone"

Ooops! Not just a truancy charge, but a forged signature charge too. RESULT: BiPolar Guy off to see a psychologist.

Scene: The Psychologist's Office. "It's not just because of this latest incident that you're here BP Guy, the school has been worried about you for a long time".

Turns out that in the first year of High School they had done routine IQ tests on us new entrants and BiPolar Guy's was considerably north of the next runner up (who landed up dux of the school).

"So they're really worried about your general lack of interest in life, your total disregard for your future and the fact that you're hanging out with a crowd that will probably not even make it through High School."

Did that little speech make even the tiniest dent in my dope smoking obsession? Nope. Not even a speed wobble. Come to think of it, I was one stubborn bastard, which is probably why I landed up in another psychologist's rooms within 12 months.

Stay tooned for scenes from our next episode...

The Weed Smokin' days. PART 1

Following fresh on the heels of the 3 part mini-series on Alcohol:

Alcohol Part 1

Alcohol Part 2

Alcohol Part 3

Smoking dope (aka marijuana, weed, ganga, pot, dagga) played an even bigger part in my life than alcohol. OK, so lots of the things I said about alcohol and the BiPolar temperament hold true for Weed and the BiPolar temperament - but there is more.

I started smoking dope at 14. It took everyone by surprise as prior to that I had been a star pupil, buried in my studies and consistently cracking top marks. But I can see now, looking back, that at age 13 I hit my first SERIOUS depression. At that point BiPolar Disorder wasn't even on the radar screen so it went largely unnoticed. And there were other issues - an unhappy family caused largely by a father who had had a terrible childhood, because his father had had a terrible childhood, because his father had.... you get the picture.

So when I hit high school I just kind of retreated into this isolated black cuccoon, and the only way that i could emerge from said cucoon was to completely re-invent myself. Dope smoking seemed the obvious choice.

Problem was, true BiPolar that I was (and am), nothing could be done in half measures. Everything must be taken to excess. And that's what happened with dope smoking. Within 6 months it was a daily affair and sometimes my friends and I would even smoke during lunch break at school. And it's not just joints I'm talking about. Clay Pipes, Bongs, Hubbly Bubblies, Bottlenecks - anything that had a bowl shape and place to suck. On some days we fashioned little hollows in the soil and "sucked the earth".

I reckon that out of the whole crowd I got into, I came out least scathed. In a way (anyway). It wasn't long before some of the other dudes were into acid, mandrax, coke, dieting pills, in fact any schedule 5 and above drug that you could get your hands on. And they paid the price: One guy OD'd. One guy got sentenced for breaking into a pharmacy (drug store). Another guy is completely addicted to crack and beyond any repair. As for the rest - I don't know. It's been 20 years and I've lost contact with them.

BiPolar Guy paid a price too. But you'll have to wait til PART 2 of this mini-series to find out what.......DA DA dadaaa (suspenceful music...)

Substance Abuse: Alcohol PART THREE

Got BiPolar? (or know someone who has)? Ever get totally trashed? Ever get chronic, lingering hangovers?

PART THREE of this mini-series is about the consequences of alcohol and the consequence of giving up for the BiPolar.

As I said, I used to get fairly sizzled when I had to go to social occasions. The occasions turned out great, I could dance like an idiot with total abandon, exude confidence and generally portray myself as a well-adjusted and exciting socialite.

...Until the next morning. Right from the beginning of my part-time drinking hobby, hangovers used to kick in far worse for me than my drinking buddies. Real "Got-a-gun?" stuff. Worse - they used to hang around for a few days. Often on the second day after the binge they'd be even more terrible and I developed a definite dreaded "second-day syndrome".

Why? Actually it shouldn't come as any great surprise. Alcohol is a depressant remember. That's right - DEPRESSANT. Wonderful stuff for a depressive to be partaking in.

But it was my good psychiatrist that pointed out an even more important effect. Alcohol stops your medication working. Ever read those little slips that come with your medication. "Avoid Alcohol". Sometimes I forget to take my pills on some days. By afternoon "Pretty Shitty" is firmly ensconced, and "Got-a-gun?" knocking on the door. It happens every time.

So here's why getting trashed causes depression: First you load yourself with depressants (aka beer, alcohol, moonshine), and then, for good measure, you make sure that your Anti-depressants don't work for the next couple days. It's a no brainer.

There's other consequences to. Those loved ones who share your space can understand the inevitable BiPolar downs (if you're lucky as I am), and it's difficult enough to put up with those. But those are not self-inflicted. The elbow-exercising on a Friday night is definitely self inflicted. So why the heck should the loved ones sympathise come Monday morning?

For me, the consequences of stopping alcohol have been amazing. Of course moderation would probably have worked too, but moderation is not on BiPolar Guy's repertoire. So I chose Nothing rather than All. And that crossroads I was at: No alcohol - No Socialise? Easy - ditch socialising for 6 months. Socialising, in my reclusive opinion is way over-rated anyway.

So for the past 8 months I've been feeling much better sans alcohol. My mind generally feels a lot sharper too. Definitely more clarity than before. And I'm finding Coffee Shops way more enjoyable than bars. You can sit at a table on your own drinking your coffee, smoking your cigarette and reading the morning paper - ah...Bliss! Sit at a table at a bar on your own and you look like some kind of AL Queda recruit.

Fringe benefit: I get bottomless coffee and a 20% tip for the waitress for 10 bucks which won't even buy you one tot of good whisky. Hey, if I'd stopped drinking 10 year's ago I could buy that amazing motorbike I'm hankering after.

But listen - I'm not preaching. You must do what works for you. I'm just sharing what works for me.

(You can lead a horse to the river, but you can't make it stop drinking)

Substance Abuse: Alcohol PART TWO

I've been thinking overnight and realised that:

ALCOHOL LUBRICATION FOR SOCIAL CIRCULATION

could work equally well as:

ALCOHOL CIRCULATION FOR SOCIAL LUBRICATION

(told you I liked playing with words)

Anyhow, there are 2 other reasons why alcohol abuse fits a BiPolar personality like an exquisitely tailored glove: Control and Extremism.

Control
Us BiPolars have much less control over our state-of-mind than the rest of you out there. We pretty much get led by the nose to where our brain chemicals feel like taking us for the day. At worst this can feel like a tiny feather getting ripped around at the whims of a merciless storm.
Should it come as a surprise then that a magic-pill (magic tipple) that can give us pretty definite short-term control over our mood is not extremely enticing? It's certainly reassuring when you're going to a prickly social occasion. Without any control, who knows what mood might turn up when you're being introduced to your Next Big client. :Pretty Shitty turns up and his overflowing enthusiasm (sarcasm here) is bound to secure the deal. Of course if "In-the-Pink" or even a moderate version of "YeeeHaaaa!" (depending on the client) makes an appearance, the deal is a dead cert. (no sarcasm here). The problem is that other lesser known characters can pop out the woodwork too like "Panic Attack Pete" and "Shakin' Stevens". So the alcohol route is the least-risk option. Rather be sizzled than sorry.

Extremism
BiPolars never do things in half measures, especially tots of whisky. Indeed that is our defining feature - when we have moods, up or down, we take them to the max. We're the ALL or NOTHING brigade.

So, given that alcohol can be quite useful, it is the BiPolar that is particularly susceptible to taking the part-time habit to new dimensions of all consuming life style. Obsessive behaviour is a fairly closely related cousin of BiPolar (there are a whole bunch of interesting relatives!) and substance abuse (not limited to alcohol), which is just dying to be obsessed over, is a common trait amongst the BiPolar community.

PART THREE of this "mini-series" will be about the consequences of overdoing alcohol, and the consequences of stopping.

***

A good day today, and I've channeled all my positive vibes into my limp-along business.

Substance Abuse: Alcohol PART ONE

Substance abuse and Bipolar go hand-in-hand. This is not only based on the reasons that I'll give below but confirmed in all the statistics BiPolar text books like to quote. Substance abuse obviously has a myriad of forms but my own experience has been limited to alcohol and dope (aka weed, ganga, doobie, marijuana, cannabis). I'll be speaking about dope in a later post.

Alcohol started at the age of about 13 for me. A bottle of brandy or sherry smuggled to our first teenage parties. It was innocent fun back then - nothing serious. By grade 10 alcohol was pretty much a standard accompaniment with every Friday and Saturday night. By the time I left school it was a compulsory ritual with every large social gathering. Not that this is exclusive BiPolar turf - take a look at any night spot and the majority of patrons (young, old, sane, insane) are all invariably imbibing some form of tipple. Has been that way since the beginning of history and probably always will be.

What makes it particularly attractive to the Bipolar, is that BiPolars, I would argue, are the least adept at social butterflying. BiPolar disorder is invariably packaged with some sort of anxiety condition and BiPolars aren't always easy to be friends with. They put a new twist on the "Fairweather Friends" proverb - "if my weather is fair - I'll be your friend, if not - don't phone (and I won't return your calls)."

Why do people drink at social occasions generally? Easy:

• ALCOHOL LUBRICATION
  FOR SOCIAL CIRCULATION

Hey, if normal people need the lubrication, what about us rough-edged moody types?

Certainly this was the case for me. Let me tell you at the outset that I was never an alcoholic. (and NO, I'm not in denial). If I didn't socialise for 6 weeks (eg. at exam time). I didn't have the slightest urge for a drink. Nor did I need to drink on week nights. But come a large social gathering (a night out on the town, a wedding, a large get 2gether with friends) I couldn't leave home without my pre-party 3 or 4 beers (or 3 or 4 whiskeys). SO I suppose, in this sense I was a "Social Alcoholic". I seldom got totally wasted (but then again I cold really hold my liquor) . In fact the pre-going out drinks, and the first couple of drinks at the venue where the most needed. Once I'd acclimatised to the social hullabaloo, I could even start alternating with cokes and sometimes even stop drinking altogether. For me it was total Self-medication. Like anti-anxiety pills. (Or Dutch Courage, depending on the way you look at it).

I didn't really want to drink. Shit, if I'm honest, I didn't even really like drinking. But I arrived very soon at a Y junction in the road:

EITHER: Socialise and Drink

OR: Don't Drink and don't socialise.

Being young and single (and often horny), I opted for the socialising.

..../to be continued tomorrow/....

***

Not sure where the Mood Gods are going to take me today. Its a strange kind of day - could go either way. So I'll settle on a "Halfway House".