Guess what? We are expecting a heatwave today, temperatures soaring up to 30 degrees Celcius. All my newly planted seedlings will be killed off. That is how gardening goes. A host of blue and gold butterflies have come out in the sudden heat.
Had coffee and a sublimely rich and sticky pecan pie with a friend celebrating eight years sober. How has it been? I asked, unwisely. She wiped brioche crumbs off her lower lip, sat back and considered.
‘Well at first I was happy just to wake up in the morning without throwing up. That lasted about a year. Then I had a brilliant second year in which everything went so well I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. After that I had three dreadful years and wanted to throw myself off a bridge most mornings. I tried desperately to improve myself and everyone around me and they all took off like greased lightning. Then I decided to just accept my messy incorrigible self and stop pursuing self-help gurus. After that it got easier, but then I did a Cordon Bleu course and put on so much weight my former mother-in-law didn’t recognise me. I started smoking again after a family crisis. And somewhere about that time I had a religious conversion to some vegan sect, but after a month or two I woke up and realised this must be A Menopausal Thing. Then there was another family crisis and I woke up crying every morning for months, had to wear dark glasses to the supermarket. But right after that I was given a dog and everything got better. Then I had that Law Suit Thing with the neighbours, let’s not go there again., I used to wake up screaming with rage and wanting to buy a gun to shoot the lawyer. And all along I just kept going to meetings and trying to pay attention and doing service, not very well, but I kept doing it anyway. People would fall asleep or begin texting when I shared my story in meetings, but I went ahead and shared regardless. I know I do go on a bit. Anyhow, last year there was the mastectomy and I bargained all the time with God and everyone else, was scared all the time and then I started to feel better about three weeks ago. Now I feel fine and happy to be here sober and alive. Just another boring sobriety saga, isn’t it?’
