The opposite of "anonymous"
I can't write him a nonymous letter, or he'll kill me in my sleep!
Okay, here we go! Well late on the blogging bandwagon but fuck it. This is as much for me as anyone who might read this.
My name is Iain and I'm an alcoholic. It's a disease apparently! I'm a 32 year old guy, married with 2 kids, full time job, various interests, hobbies, basicly lots to be happy about. So why the fuck am I only happy when I'm tipping Lager down my neck every night?
This Blog is my own project and part of my battle plan to sort myself out for good. I'm going to post something every day, be it a few words or a fucking epic yarn. It might be personal feelings, the news whatever.
So, this is Day One. My last drink was last night. 5 cans of Fosters at 4pm (GMT UK) followed by a sulk then a trip to the shop feeling triumphant about 7pm for another 8 beers. Carling to be specific. That's a typical weekday binge for me.
Today felt like utter shit, my sides (kidneys I'm guessing) feel like I'm gonna piss glass. My limbs are twitching like fuck (nervous system, I'm guessing) and I know what the ultimate pain killer is! But alas I'm broke so the craving, while still chattering away at me, can bide its time. Once I have some cash in my pocket...well that's gonna be a new challenge. Well, not a new challenge but one I will be battling with for a hell of a longer time than Monday to Thursday!
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