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June 26, 2010

I’ve learnt the importance of exercise, for me, in keeping the black dog at bay.

It can be hard to make the time. Procrastination is easy, as with meditation.*

Fortunately I live only a handful of kilometres from a train station. I ditched the car, and now toodle to and from the train station each day. It’s arguably quicker than driving through traffic, especially in peak hours.

There are benefits for physical health and for our society, as well.

There is some evidence around the benefits of exercise as an element of therapy for depression, albeit not robust.

Myself? I find that if I don’t exercise moderately, on most days, I tend towards poor sleep, a drop in mood, energy and joie de vivre.

Incorporating it into my daily routine helps. My wobbly little legs don’t build up that much speed, sure, but it’s about the effort – not the achievement.

*A rather venerable buddhist monk once told me even he has trouble with meditation procrastination syndrome.


Blog content

June 25, 2010

I should mention briefly the content rating of this blog and appended links.

This blog will not contain offensive, explicit or otherwise vulgar  ‘not safe for work’ material.

Some of my links (especially the humour ones) do contain language that some may find offensive.

The concepts around recovery discussed on this blog, in my opinion, would nonetheless be suitable for adults, and not for children.

So any unsupervised non-adults who might stumble upon this blog, please continue along your merry way.


June 21, 2010

I learnt the hard way that drinking in moderation is not for me. I tried every form of moderation there for awhile…controlled quantity, controlled days…well, I tried two at least.

Always failed. Works for some. Not for me.

Projection and transference to those around me was not an uncommon phenomenon.

Sometimes everyone is a mirror.

The dwindling of dwelling

June 19, 2010

Learning from our mistakes does not necessitate dwelling upon them.

I don’t quite get the way in which some in recovery seem to constantly revisit – glorify even – their stories of boozed debauchery, crime and other forms of wanton self-destruction.

It’s nothing to be proud of. I try to learn from my mistakes, and to integrate these lessons into who I now am.

If I’m always looking behind me, I can’t see the road ahead.

Different paths for different journeys, I suppose.

Nonetheless, as per this bloke

“Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”
George Santayana, The Life of Reason, Volume 1, 1905

Reinforcing lessons learnt

June 11, 2010

I think that hubris and complacency are something I need to be mindful of.

Previous attempts to cease or contain my grappling with the grog never really succeeded beyond 6 months.

I’m thinking of it like a bicycle – one needs to keep pedalling to maintain momentum.

But it is easier to maintain balance when a modicum of speed has been attained.

And all this cycling builds up the muscles.

So that the inevitable hills are more readily surmounted.

I’m still benefiting from occasional external support. But the common thread in all my trials and travails is….me.

So more work on internalising of reinforcement, mindfulness, observing and managing my own reactions, planning and care of the self.

Just to name a few.

Life is good.

The day is clear

the air is crisp

the wind is cleansing

soft caressing

corrugations absent

in my person present

this I long did miss

The more things change

June 2, 2010

Day 827.

It has been a long while.

I have found a modicum of success in my recovery. Key to this was time spent in a secular therapeutic community.

As part of a holistic approach, including elements of the medical model.

These three entries, and the interval between, are ripe with things unsaid.

Waiting for the miracle

October 9, 2007

Day O, recurring.

Spent half a day and a night in bed, recovering from the “last binge”. Slept intermittently. Cleaned myself up, ate some food. Was due to go back to work.

Stayed in bed. Called the boss. Not sure if I still have a job.

Time will tell.

Drink in front of me now, several hours later. Not the first.

Appointment with the psychiatrist tomorrow. Thinking about disulfiram. It’s a last resort, really. Dangerous, all the literature says. Only effective if I can arrange some form of supervision, according to the evidence base.
Continuing to drink is certain death, though. Hopefully he concurs.