28 days later... on

Day One

"Day One of what?" I hear you ponder. Distantly. Probably.

Well, it's "Day One" of the outside world for me. That's right folks, for the last four weeks I have been a guest at the funny farm. Well, not really. I have been in rehab. Had myself a wee battle with the Booze you see. It won. On many occasions. Left me with a scar on my hand, three pissed off ex-girlfriends and a memory with the catching ability of a colander made entirely of smoke. Wasn't so much your everyday drinker. More your "Start drinkin' and don't stop until sweet blissful unconsciousness lays me down in discreet bramble bush or the money runs out" kinda drinker. So when I once again woke up with half a kebab in my bed, a hangover that professional torturers would care to study, and only snippets of recollections regarding the previous nights debauchery, I decided I may need a bit of a hand. And off to rehabilitation therapy I trotted, skipped, trudged, and sauntered (blended together this walk actually turns out determined).

Rehab is like going to school camp. With all the fun bits taken out. But the food's the same. What I found most daunting about the whole experience was not really the classes or the abstinence but the socialization. Upon first arriving I was greeted by three men that looked as though they had been made from six. Huge fellas with tattoos and muscles and that look in the eye that says "Just try me! Grrr." Well, maybe not the Grrr. But still. When the ward started filling up with more and more people I came to the realization that we were all so diverse. Our only common link was that we couldn't control our habit(s) of choice. That and smoking. Cigarette smoking I mean. Although some of the gang there would have smoked a deck chair given the opportunity. But I digress.

Obviously what goes on in these places holds a rather sturdy confidentiality clause (not in the form of a written contract but from the more ironclad "Well, you were there too" basis of legal non-disclosure) so I will not go into details of my experience. I just felt like getting it out there. To lay it out for the world to see (or the three people who fell into this site accidentally) so I need not feel as though I hold to my chest a dark secret. Well, not this dark secret anyway. But alas it now occurs to me that some might think this blog a droning parable of a man's battle with addiction. I do not intend this to be so. I was Tobbë before the booze and I am still Tobbë after it. In fact I was still Tobbë during it, just with a goofier look on my face. So this will not be a day to day account of my battles with demons nigh. Sure, it may happen time to time. I would imagine that something would be terribly wrong with me if I found myself happy and docile on a 24 hour basis. Some kind of hippie bug perhaps but I certainly don't want to be labeled "The Alcoholic" because there is so much more to me than that. Plenty more...

Heaps more....

....

cornucopia of interesting um.. things...


Let me get back to you.