oh dear I think that Christmas cheer and sh*t went and got me.

 It is the time of year when eating and drinking your body weight in junk food and alcohol is totally acceptable. Which is wonderful for a lot of you out there. But for us addicts in recovery we are faced with another challenge; getting through the festive days with no booze. Smiling through those uncomfortable 'what are you doing with your life?' conversations. Chewing down Brussels sprouts without indulging in our favorite Christmas tipple. No bucks fizz at breakfast. No cold lager cheers. And oh how I miss it.

But. And it's a big fat BUT, this year I started healing (as some of you know, sorry I must sound like a broken record!) I started learning how to live a life without my bastard black dog being in control. This Christmas I have something to be well and truly happy about. So I can focus not on intoxication this year but on no longer living with that tricky prick regret. Despite recovery being bloody difficult I am finally getting better and learning how to be happy and live a life knowing that happiness is a possibility for me. And maybe that's what this time of year should really be about. Despite it being sickeningly sentimental, maybe Christmas is a time to be reflective and remember that we are loved. A time to surround ourselves with the people we love. Humans, are of course, undoubtedly barmy; bringing trees in houses, and being happy that some lady had a baby some 2015 years ago, are a few of our milder insults to logic. But we do give ourselves these couple of days. Just to be with each other. In our own little ways. So this year that's what I am going to make Christmas about. Or at least I'm going to try.

So Merry Christmas. One and all. And a shout out to those who (like me) are about to embark on their very first sober Christmas. We can do it.  

if every fool wore a crown I would be a king and not a clown

Once again I am foolish.
Once again Bristol stands ugly and aggressive before me.
It's thick shoulders bouncing as it laughs at me.
A bastard.

All my memories leave me totally naked in the light of this city.
And oh so suddenly it doesn't feel like home, just when I need to be.
Because once again I've been a classic fool.
I must have forgotten that all that fragility and vulnerability was running through my veins. Or perhaps I thought for a moment too long, that something good might finally happen. Either way I've been silly in my brain again.
I am wrong again.
Obviously. Classic me.

I am aware this doesn't make much sense.

A couple of things have happened recently that have very almost caused a relapse.
I haven't relapsed. But I'm really struggling.
And it's not because I want to have a pint, and be silly, I'm really struggling because I'm hurting. Because I've come home to feel a million miles away. Because I'm missing so much and so many.

Again I am reminded. Again I am reminded that my recovery comes first. Again I reminded of who I am. I am an addict.