talking2myself

Talking to Myself

One Sunday morning after a particular heavy Friday and a light, by my standards Saturday, I got up and went to ‘work’, hung-over.  That’s where my family though I was going and I did go to the office, to get away from everything.  I took with me a dictation machine, a couple of bottles of diet coke and a sandwich.

I don’t know why I did this.  Where I got the plan to try this, I don’t know, probably one of my drunken ‘fix myself’ episodes.

I went to the office and I recorded myself beating myself up about my recent behaviour.  The loss of a couple of hundred quid in a lap dancing clubs had been added to my late nights expenses, no responses to my wife’s late night texts and calls and total and utter irresponsibility.  Fancy experiences that I can hardly recall even to this day!  You ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you I exaggerate because not one knew – though my wife suspected – the level of my ‘out of control’.

Why was this happening?  Maybe I felt I deserved to taste the ‘finer’ things in life, had money in my pocket, no debts left after years of ducking and diving, and I missed out on so many good things.  And good things involved drinking, drinking and drinking and expensive scantily dressed young ladies – helping put them through college/university I kept being reminded.

What I have written here is painful to remember.  What kind of person does it make me appear to you the reader?  Seedy, disgusting?  But you see, I don’t care, you are allowed to make your assumptions but if you really care about knowing if this is happening to you or to a loved one, you will just have to read on, because I doubt anyone is going to give it to you this brutally.

I remember the day was quite beautiful, the sky was blue and the sun shining though I am sure it was not summer but the dates are little vague.

I spent the next 6 or so hours talking to myself, recording every word.  The intention that I listen to some of the talk – after editing the mumbling and silence bits – every day until I had convinced myself of the errors of my ways.

Alcohol has been a part of my existence from when my ‘bottle of whisky a day’ father was sent of to a psychiatric ward at the when I was aged four where he was to spend the next 24 years of his life, through the years growing up in the Seychelles, the heavy alcohol driven teenage years in Zimbabwe and the early ‘pay happy’ years of the early working years.   Even during the ‘hard emigration period – some 7 years’ when I came to the UK, a good booze up was not missed when the opportunity presented itself.  That period was probably the most ‘driest’ period I had of my adult life.

So, that day, I paced up and down and talked.  I sat down with my feet on the desk and I talked some more.  There were 2 people in that room, sulky fairly silent bad Ben and responsible, upstanding Ben.  I tell no lies, I spent most of that time talking to myself, more like, telling myself off, appealing to my better senses, threatening all sorts, it went on and on.  It gets easier each minute. 
Why?  I could not, did not want to acknowledge publicly that I had a problem.  Once I had a sip, the end could not be predicted, some days 4, 8 and others 18, 20 despite what I promised myself when I sat down to the first drink.

On a couple of occasions, I have made a special trip to the pub, to find a quiet corner so I could determine my strategy to control my drinking!  I kid you not!  But after a couple of drinks, the plans are set aside and the process starts again.  You can’t make the decision under the influence, a lot us regret the consequences of our ‘decisions’ whilst on a happy trip!

So it required ‘time-out’.  As a married person, it is unbelievably difficult to get ‘me’ time so I went to ‘work’. I do believe that the power of your convictions can make a change to your behaviour – you see the effects of it every day, some convictions are your very own but a lot of the times other people, church, society work to form your convictions which then drives your behaviour. 

If you really want to know who you are you need extended ‘me’ time.  You will be surprised at what you discover from the way you like your coffee to the music you listen too.  No-one says it better than ‘Payroll da Pimp’ in his ‘Rebirth’ e-book.  WARNING :  Do not look this up if you are easily offended – whilst the advise is positive – the language it is delivered is likely to upset our British sensibilities – if you are over say 25 .  Otherwise today’s youngsters hear all that in the movies and in the music videos!

Did it work?  Short answer: yes.  Stopped drinking? No, but started applying control,  reduced the volume quite considerably and spend longer on each drink for a while.

The tapes I recorded on were rubbish.  The first few minutes tested on each the tape seemed fine but the whole was a sizzling, crackling and scratches so were no use as reinforcement.  Without reinforcement, you are very likely to back-slide.

Another session was soon in the making.

May you find the balance.