100 Sad Days; Day 37: An Open Letter

Dear Alcohol

You make me in to a fun, somewhat loud, drunk. I love to dance and joke and chat. I then fall asleep especially with the addition thereafter of fresh air.

Why is it you cannot do the same for everybody? Why does the same drug have different effects on people? I know it's about emotional responses and biological make up, physiological, psychology and various other ologies as well. However this letter is to you.

Why turn somebody I love in to a mean hearted, foul tongued, obnoxious, selfish, argumentative, opinionated, miserable bully? Why? It is breaking my heart.

They say that "what is on the drunk man's lips is in the sober man's heart" (in vino veritas) and if that is so I am in trouble. So many unkind words and statements. They are making me numb. Please don't turn them to hate.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names stay forever with me.

I ask you, alcohol, stop stealing my life.

Comments

London Calling

I am no longer based "in town" and I never thought I'd miss it. Yet every Wednesday when I am London bound I find myself looking forward to what I will be greeted by. It's not the hustle and bustle - the fast moving commuters and slow shuffling tourists. It's not the shops and bargains abound. It's the buildings, the Underground, the knowing smile you may get from a fellow passenger, or the sarcastic comment of a Tube driver. I love London and its diversity. I love that you can walk just a short distance and be greeted by a whole new world. I love that you can randomly bump into an old friend you haven't seen for years. Making our big world smaller every day. I love St Paul's how proud it stands in the heart of the City. The fact it has survived wars and still attracts throngs of people to it everyday. I love the pomp and circumstance of the City and its Idiosyncrasies. I love that the museums are free and that you can meander around beautifu...

100 Sad Days; Day 34: Say it Like you Mean it

Elton John was wrong. Sorry is not the hardest word. In fact it is all to easily said and not meant. For years I thought that flowers were a sad excuse for a sorry. Now I realise that what is worse is the empty shell of a sorry. The echo of an unmeant apology received in hope but ushered in haste. I cannot count the times I have heard the word. From a forced apology "say you are sorry" to one that is said unkept. We all say sorry. We bump in to someone and manners tell us to apologise. We drop something and we apologise. Sorry here is lighthearted but still meant. Kids fight or shout and apologise as they are taught to do. Sometimes they mean it sometimes they just say it. They are kids after all. Adults should know better. Sorry should mean just that. It isn't an excuse for bad behaviour. It isn't a "make everything better with one word". It should be said with the mouth, the heart and the mind. If you are sorry then be sor...

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression. She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed. Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling. However my short periods would get longer...

My Blog Bubble

Search This Blog