Sunday, January 4, 2009

On the seventh day God created Brain's bitter.

My six day sober ended today. I am determined not to allow wailing and gnashing of teeth to rule the day however.

I have been to The C, to see D, and once there partook of four pints of Brains Bitter. This started at around 1pm, it is now 8.41pm and I'm pleased to report that's where that particular bout of drinking ended. I'm rather astounded to be honest and, to a degree, proud of what I see as an achievement.

This despite the reflex action that pushed me into the shop to buy four cans of Guinness on the way home. They sit downstairs now, unloved and unquaffed.

I'd be a fool to myself (and when am I not), to see this as much of a good thing however. I really should have stayed off the pop. And, stopping is a chore - at least it feels like it now; and the day is not yet done and those cans are still there.

Nevertheless, I've still drunk substantially less than I have done on previous 'relapses' - less than half the usual in fact, so we'll look at positives here for once.

My skin continues to cause me great concern. I'm using a steroid cream and a simple moisturiser. The steroid thins the skin and, I'm sorry to say, I must have been over applying it to my hands, which are the worst victims of this bloody awful rash/eczema/whatever. They're permanently red and irritated in a self-consciousness inducing way. But last night I could see the blood through the skin, which is not good.

So, with the help of Mrs Cardiff Drunk, I gave myself a damn good moisturising, which calmed down the irritation after an initial bout of horrible stinging pain.

I think I'm going to have to go back to the doctor about this. If it's the Trazodone I'm going to have to stop taking the tablets because this is starting to get me down in quite a serious way.

The sleep too is odd. I've never dreamed much, or, rather as I gather we all dream, I've rarely remembered my dreams. This is something else though. It's out like a light into total darkness, Mrs CD calls it a coma, and I'm undisturbable, unshakable. Then, around eight hours later, pop! I'm awake, straight up and out of utter darkness. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just seems a bit odd.

Well, I shall report how the rest of the day passes tomorrow. I'm nicely tired, but craving oblivion from the black stuff too - perhaps the best plan is to go to bed and take the blackout pills. I won't drink tomorrow because of work and the same on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Oh yeah. And the reason I HAD to go out today was to pick up some dope. Another piece of foolishness arranged in my cups.

Could be worse.

How be you?

If you spent it, thank you for your time.



Anonymous said...

4 pints and a stop IS an achievement, and the fact those cans are still downstairs speaks volumes. That takes a lot of restraint.

Just because you bought them doesn't mean that you need open them, and even if you open one, it doesn't mean you need drink it. The ball stops rolling when you say it does, every action is an opportunity to stop.

Well done for not turning a drink into a binge.

Lola x

The Drinker said...

Cheers Lola.

Is that your real name? Cos I think it's gonna be appropriate round yere pretty soon.

Wrap up warm...


Anonymous said...

Sadly it's not my real name, but I seem to spend more time being Miss Snow that being the other, so it may as well be. It is damn cold, I certainly do not like it and have resorted to three pairs of socks and two duvets! Stay Safe CD

Lola x