Grrrr. Get outta my way!!

Is it me or is the fire in my belly that signals rage an alarming sign that living a life anaesthetised by alcohol is in fact much safer than one where emotions are allowed to emerge! Perhaps this is the explanation for the British habit of binge drinking - we wrongly assume that it’s better not to feel the feeling than experience the head rush it ultimately brings. Inebriation keeps more of us out of trouble than in!

Of course, this doesn’t allow for the rage of a drunkard. It’s clear that alcohol can make some people more aggressive than when they are sober. For many though, alcohol suppresses their fury. That said, I can remember clearly one customer in the pub where I worked as a teenager, who could not be served a strong bitter as it sent him completely off the rails. On a normal strength bitter, he was a pussy cat, but 2-3 pints of Bass and the pool cues were in danger of becoming lethal weapons. Ha ha. Not so funny if you were at the receving end, but no need to source a pub singer or a karaoke machine with Scoff around!

However, the majority of people are more apt to become your best friend/maudlin/excitable once their consumption has exceeded the government guidelines and in my case (unlike my mother, who is one of the aggressive drunk types) I was usually sweet, sleepy and clumsy. For some reason, gin made me exceptionally tearful but nothing made me want to punch walls.

Boy how sobriety has unfettered my restraint! I am actually aware of it, which is scary because I know when my tone of voice is sharp, if my look could have just slain them or the insistence with which I put my point across has become uncomfortable for the other party. Yet I can’t stop myself. It’s as if the urge to be honest and to the point is too great, lest I be untruthful to myself. I would rather have a damn good ding dong or cut someone down to size, than walk away or back down.

So what’s eating me? I think it’s a general malaise, really. Times are tough and when I am already less than enamoured with my lot, being surrounded by bosses who are currently fucked off to high heaven and a partner who has a dying father and another job loss to deal with, what’s there left to be happy about, eh?

So back to one of my earlier resolutions. I need to be thankful again. So I am grateful for:

- Being loved. I’ve spent enough of my life questioning whether or not I was loved, be it by friends, family or boyfriends. My K may have his moments, but I know he loves me as deeply as I do him and that is one of the greatest feelings I can think of;
- Being healthy. Tomorrow I really, truly am going on a major health kick. More on that tomorrow, but the fact is I can and I will. I’d like to capitalise on my strong foundation and be the best that I can.
- Being employable! OK – I may have to work hard to find my next role and I may even have to take the plunge and do something completely different, but, at the end of the day, good will out and I will find my niche. I can feel it in my bones!

Anyhow, more tomorrow as I am actually a bit busy work-wise this week. But I have plans and I shall share them demain.