Icy and overcast Saturday morning.
Woken by a noisy house sparrow perched in the scarlet poinsettia tree. Today is day 105 sober, and I feel both grateful and scared. Procrastinating about freelance work, feeling irritable with myself. One of those days where I hand over and hand over and hand over to my Higher Power. No cravings and no desire to drink, but finding it hard to be with myself, hard to pay attention.
This from my Hazelden Thought for the day, very apposite: ‘Alcoholics are unable or unwilling, during their addiction to alcohol, to live in the present. The result is that they live in a constant state of remorse and fear because of their unholy past and its morbid attraction, or the uncertain future and its vague forebodings. So the only real hope for the alcoholic is to face the present. Now is the time. Now is ours. The past is beyond recall. The future is as uncertain as life itself. Only the now belongs to us. Am I living in the now?’
That ‘unholy past’ amuses me. My fingers are chilly and numb as I sit inputting here – in a short while I shall go and make lasagna from scratch, finely chop up Rosa tomatoes and onion, dice ripe avocado for a salsa. Balsamic vinegar and olive oil, a grind of black pepper, Maldon salt. Very therapeutic, home cooking.