Pesky little man
I wasn’t going to write this; it’s been swirling around my head for a while now & in that time I had tried to come up with all sorts of ways to “massage” it, all to no avail. Writing it meant admitting to certain things (nothing shocking, but still). Omitting certain details or not writing it at all meant being insincere. Even if people weren’t going to be any wiser for it, I would have been, and that grates, so…
We’ve all received that text message that asks, “Hey you, what’s doing? Been a while..” or words to that effect. I received one recently & replied that I was well & keeping busy but being busy was a good thing as it meant I was staying out of trouble. The response suggested that line had been taken in the humor with which I intended, however, and therein lies a bit of a rub, it’s 100% true; if I’m not busy or using my time constructively, then I’m at risk of doing something I shouldn’t be doing….at least not at midday.
My problem is that I bore way too easily & I think way too much. On top of this, I consider myself as having a short attention span. When these little things all mix together, my first reaction, maybe even instinct, is to reach into the fridge, and not for the fuck off sized bottle of Apple & Blackcurrant V8 that normally resides in the door. That’s if I’m at home. If I’m at work, my reaction is to fiddle with things that don’t need fiddling with: that always did drive the old man batty when we worked together. I once caused a major disruption to the timely delivery of The Liberal Party Review Herald Sun as an apprentice when I hit a button I shouldn’t have & the little robots that deliver the reels of paper to presses all stopped in their tracks. Boy, did I cop an arse kicking for that one.
I don’t have so many problems filling in my time at work, but I used to have considerable trouble on my days off, and working only a 3 nights a week used to mean I had a heap of time that needed filling. I filled that time by drinking. A lot. I had just walked out of the family home, my friends & the rest of my family were 800 km’s in either direction & all of a sudden it was like wind & fucking tumbleweed; I had nothing to do & absolutely no idea how I could change that, as silly as that sounds. After a long while, I finally figured I could well have been going into a space that I would find enormously difficult to crawl out of when the screaming in my head started, literally. It would normally wake me up in the middle of the night. At first I thought it was the spirit of a young girl in my house (who I’m convinced was, and still is, in that house) but after a while I took it as a message to get off my arse, stop wasting my time & the space of others & to get out there & fucking do something with my time: sport, music, changing social settings & creating opportunities to meet new people, possibly a nice woman, even…there was a heap of things I could do. So I got to it. I could be here all day if I were to go down the list, though.
It’s funny, though, what can initially motivate you & the things that keep you motivated. Not only did I have the initial nightly screaming kicking my arse into gear, there are 2 other instances that are burned into my psyche that keep pushing me: The first is the image of the old man, 60 or so, who reeked of alcohol, cigarettes & piss who stood next to me at the counter of the bottle shop as I bought a carton of beer one day, the second is something a good mate of mine said, funnily enough as we were having a beer, while we were talking about Foxtel; he didn’t have it & I was thinking of getting rid of it as everything I recorded was nerdy stuff on FTA. As for watching the Foxtel broadcasts of the rugby league, I would do that at the local so I saw no point to having Fox anymore. Plus, I was going through my expenses with a fine toothed comb. Anyway, that’s when my friend commented, “It’s not as if you’re going to be lying on your deathbed thinking ‘Gee, I wish I watched more TV.’” Without either of us realising it, and I don’t think I’ve ever actually told him since, but that line, as throw away as it was at the time, has been, and continues to be, an enormous motivator for me.
When he said it, I was maybe 3 months or so into my little time filling exercise & turning things around for myself: getting active in the union & starting a blog were a couple of the first things I did for example. Already, I was feeling much better for it, but, fuck, that line took my desire to be more active & fill my time constructively to a whole new level. It’s astonishing really, at least to me. I still had a long way to go, I knew that, but I had all the motivation I needed right there with me and I felt…relieved. It was most definitely a weight off my shoulders; when I came to the realisation I was headed down a pretty shitty path months earlier, motivation was there, but it was accompanied by a truck load of worry, so there were a few stumbles along the way to that point.
I feel good, really good, these days; the screaming stopped ages ago and early April was the first time since New Year celebrations that I had given the drink “a good nudge,” and that was because a whole bunch of friends from Melbourne were on their end of year cricket trip here in Sydney. The other positives to come out of it is that I have become more acutely aware of some other weaknesses & trigger points; you can’t put a price on that & you can spend as much as you damn well please on psychiatrists or psychologists, but there are certain things that can only be figured out by you. Also, in recent months I’ve realised I’m ready to have another go at a relationship if someone nice comes along…not that breaking up with someone & having a new girlfriend a few weeks later ever made sense to me, anyway; I’ve always taken a lot of time to be by myself in between relationships, but I’m clearly doing something right if I’m in that headspace where I’m ready to be in another one. Changing things & laying off the drink had as much to do with getting myself into that position as it did with anything else; I knew there was no fucking way anyone would have me whilst I was in the state I was in… and fair enough, too.
I keep a day book with me these days, it sits on my computer desk & on the passenger seat of the car normally. I put everything that needs doing in that thing & it works brilliantly; I’m not drinking during the day & I get everything that needs doing done. Sometimes I run out of time & things get pushed to the next day but that’s ok, the point is I still get it done.
I have a weakness for the drink, especially if I’m bored: fucking sue me. It’s my lot to deal with & I deal with it, they’re the cards I got dealt & I play them to the best of my ability. I think I’ve played them pretty well over the last (nearly) 12 months. And so it goes, that’s life.
