Rocky path

I had a major wobble yesterday. I’d been feeling ‘itchy’ all day – someone on another blog described the feeling as itchy, that feeling of things not being quite right – and as I walked to the station to get my train to orchestra, I had an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. It was a sense of: I don’t want to do this anymore/ why am I putting myself under such pressure/ I can moderate if I put my mind to it/drinking is part of what I do and who I am/ I need a drink now/I’m going to have to abandon my blog, my 100 day challenge, my sobriety…and as I walked into the station, I almost went and bought one of those g & t tins again, the slippery slope tin to a bad place.

I texted my sober friend, and like a miracle she replied immediately. I sat on the train, I ate my sandwich, I drank my water, I felt angry and bitter and muddled. Then I got the tube to my rehearsal and once I was there and had started playing, I felt my sobriety bracelet around my wrist and I focused on the music and I sat on those train thoughts and pushed them down. On the way home, on the Cornish Pasty Train (why do people eat Cornish pasties on trains? It’s not good), I stared out of the window into the night and just felt those pushed down thoughts, and then I got home and went to bed.

And now it’s Day 8.