Nine years ago, on 27 December 2014, I was going about my usual routines of getting my bars ready for the night ahead. I had the fabulously successful Ron Tiki Bar and the badly failing live music version of Ronnie’s Bar now located in, what I believe to be a cursed building, that was known previously as Preachers, then Snow Goose Live, then Kiva until I made the ill-fated move of closing Ronnie’s in Dukes Court and expecting it to seamlessly relocate into an inferior site that I had sunk shit loads of money into. I had handled an ongoing dispute with my landlord in Dukes Court so badly that I was blind to the fact that its location was an integral part of the success of my venue. Instead of attempting to resolve the issue I threw the baby out with the bath water. My ego believed I was in the right and therefore could say fuck you and walk away. It also told me I could turn any sow’s ear into a silk purse. After all I had transformed a defunct part of the town centre, Dukes Court, into its late-night epicentre, so my belief was of course I could do it again somewhere else. Alcohol fuelled this belief along with a host of other poor life choices, so I carried on my self-destructive journey.
Back then, as I was preparing for the night ahead, I was probably feeling hungover and not even contemplating that this would be my last day of drinking alcohol. But that’s how it turned out.
That night in 2014 proved to be great for business. A rare success at the new Ronnie’s with a superb Red Hot Chilli Peppers tribute band packing the place out and performing a storming gig. I was on a high, well on my way to drunkenness as I staggered round the Green Room with a bottle of Jägermeister offering it to the band to celebrate with me. To a man they all declined the offer for various reasons. At each refusal to imbibe with me I took a big swig of the drink. I consumed the lot on my own, at least I presume I did, as the stagger around the Green Room is the last thing I remember until the following morning, when I awoke at home, on my bed, fully clothed. At least I had managed to remove my shoes. But I felt like dog shit. That feeling was compounded by the taste of stale Jägermeister that would not leave me for the whole day ahead, despite repeated teeth cleaning and intake of food
I repeated a mantra to myself as I sat in my seat at the Etihad watching City throw away a 2-goal lead against Burnley – I would never drink alcohol again. As it turns out I will be 9-years sober on 28 December 2023. It’s been a journey that only made sense once I got to AA, but thankfully I feel better for it.
I read this today:
Every addict’s story is different of course but some will resonate more than others. This is one that I can really relate to. These lines from this article align hugely with my personal journey:
The alcohol that had once been my gateway to companionship was now leading me into isolation.
Alcoholism is a disease of loneliness. It is a journey of escape and self-deception, of self-centred fear. A fixation on “me”, on the glass dome over existence that makes you feel alone even when you are surrounded by others.
Although I no longer drink, the fears remain. But they have changed.
That last quote is particularly apt for me at this time of year. I once loved Christmas Day more than any other day in a calendar year. I now fear it. Despite having some wonderfully loving people around me and looking out for me, I still manage to dwell on the perceived losses of what I once had and feel all alone on this day more than any other. Maybe it’s because I have to share my loved ones in separate silos, my daughters and granddaughter with their mother/grandmother, and my partner with her daughters until I get to be with them later in the day. Even though they all make a huge effort to include me, I still manage to feel second best as I spiral into my own depths of despair and self-pity. These feelings of course are dangerous and need to be vented in order to not slip back into the destructive mess of active alcoholism. I should I suppose share them with my sponsor, but I have let that relationship wither; I have plenty of other alcoholic friends to share it with, yet I convince myself not to. So instead, I’m sharing it here in my blog.
Again, from the article by Gunnar Ardelius there are some reminders of what I know and need to address:
This is the essence of this disease of spiritual failing: never getting enough of what one believes one needs.
The alcohol was just a symptom. I am the problem. After all, I was always sober when I started drinking. I went looking for the opening that alcohol provides, but whenever I opened the jar, the lid was screwed back on, tighter each time and eventually so tight that it could not be opened again. And there I stood, confused and in the midst of a loneliness like no other.
There it is – I AM THE PROBLEM.
I need to make the changes. No one else. It starts with creating a suitable home to host family and friends, not just at Christmas but at all times. I have already successfully re-invented myself in a work situation, I need to do the same on a personal level. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great relationship with my partner, she is so supportive and loving, oozing with care and a willingness to understand and challenge my self-destructive beliefs. I have great relationships with my daughters. I do need to create more time for my granddaughter and soon to be with us grandson. Their mother, my eldest daughter, does a fabulous job of including me in the mix of loving people in my granddaughter’s life. She will undoubtedly do the same for my grandson when he arrives early in 2024. However, I need to build on this. Not anyone else. Me. Too often I will stand back and feed my biggest demon of feeling second best to everyone and everything. In the same way that I accepted I had a problem with alcohol, I need to accept that I am a different person now. I make better decisions without the fog created by alcohol getting in the way and distorting my options. The best way to celebrate my 9th year as a sober new person is enter my 10th year of sobriety dwelling on all that’s good in my life and how to make that even better.
Wishing everyone, and especially anyone reading this, all the best for the year ahead. Happy New Year when it arrives for you. Today though is my New Year’s Day.
Ronnie xx
28 December 2023