Sobering Thoughts Volume Thirty Six – Daylight

Hey, it’s been a while. My last blog was written all the way back in November last year. I am not too sure as to why it has taken me so long to pen anything else but, here we are. In the last blog I had been discussing the struggles I was having with alcohol and not being able to cope with the pressure I felt under at the time. I read the last piece back and I don’t feel as if I properly explained how and what I was feeling during this moment. The desire to drink again consumed me. To a point where I couldn’t think about anything else. I had not drunk for over five months at this point so the day after I felt lousy and quite angry at myself for caving. However, part of me also felt like I couldn’t do anything else. The internal battle that I had been having for the previous few weeks was over and despite losing the battle in some ways I felt a sense of relief. Being able to analyse the moment a bit more, now I can see there were many factors at play as to why this happened. Towards the end of the cricket season (late August/early September) I had developed an injury to my left shoulder which restricted what I could do in the gym. This led to me breaking my rhythm, routine and cycle of going regularly and maintaining a more positive regime. Something which I need to not only not drink, but also to remain in a more forward-facing outlook.

Originally, I was going to write this based on how I was feeling now but I think it is important to reflect upon what I was dealing with at the time. To be honest, how I feel now is quite resemblant to how I felt back then. One of the biggest factors at the time was that I was very lonely. In a lot of ways, I am satisfied with my own company but also, I can see it is not always good for me. I started frequenting a local establishment. A nice place, quite an old school feel to it with regular bar staff who would remember what you order. Is that a good thing? Probably not. I started going a few nights a week. I liked that it was a quiet place, no loud music, in fact really good music on the sound system. You would get a good mix of Dylan, the Stones and then more modern stuff like Arctic Monkeys or Blossoms. It wasn’t long before I recognised faces coming in and drinking regularly and vice versa. Again, probably not a good thing. It felt like a warm place. A place I could go and sink a few pints and maybe strike up a conversation with a few of the local blokes who got in there about Newcastle or, even worse, politics. It’s the type of establishment where my beliefs and opinions are let’s say, in a minority. But I don’t mind that. I have always maintained that it is better to engage with those you disagree with than sit in an echo chamber where you are majority. I look at this and think is it weird? Am I strange for going and finding this? Searching for it. Is this what thirty four year old men do? I do not think of myself as unique or special in any way, especially in this context but maybe this isn’t normal. I don’t know. I think in many ways I wanted to feel safe and at home in a setting where I felt belonging.  

The Ship became a sanctuary, or at least I felt it was. Nameless faces became people I began to get a sense of almost knowing. There was Roland with his pending operation. Don, whose wife had died four years previously and the Ship was a place he came to for company. These individuals were never friends, but they were people I knew. I would sit and listen to them talking to one another about the world and how it works. It was interesting in a lot of respects to hear their opinions on current issues or what had happened near Four Lane Ends that day. The subject matter was never important it was more just listening to them talk. I can see I was very lonely at this time. I don’t think this is something I can shake off. Even in a room crowded with people I have known all my life I can still feel isolated and alone. So maybe it didn’t need to be the pub, maybe I was subconsciously choosing that as the easy option. I think in some ways that having an injury and being unable to go to the gym properly gave me license to behave irresponsibly. I just wasn’t strong enough to avoid drinking again. Despite building that sobriety up over the last few months I couldn’t stop myself from falling back into bad habits. Or if I am being honest, did I want to? I am writing this from a dark space, not at my best. There is a sense of feeling within me that everything changed when my Dad died. I lost a big part of my life but also my resilience to this. I hope that one day I can reclaim this and get back in control of drinking. At this moment I don’t have it. I will have two to three days when I am out of control and drink excessively and I don’t think anyone knows this. Then for a few days I will get a sense of clarity and feel like I am turning a corner for it all to come crashing down a few days later. I am weak. I give in because it’s easier to do so. I hope to have the mental capacity to be stronger but at this moment I don’t.

I always finish these pieces go away and read them after publishing thinking I could have said more. Put across how I was feeling in a more coherent way. I genuinely try to be as open and honest as possible. I write this two years four months and fifteen days on feeling no different to when I lost my dad. I know grief and loss are not special to me but that in no way diminishes how I feel. Some days you get on and some days you don’t. For the last few months, I don’t.

Thanks for reading.

Nick Denton

Sobering Thoughts