If I Can Help at Least One Person….

My story, or Blog, is going to be honest and have stories full of mad shit I have gone through in my drinking lifetime. I hope it will help people who are on the road to recovery, as we call it, and get through the hard times on this road. I am (and never thought I would get here) at that stage where having one more mouthful isn’t an option. I will continue to write truthful and honest, brutal facts and stories and outcomes of what can or will happen if you continue to drink or have that thought, “I might just have one more.” Since stopping over a year ago, I want to just write a post of what you can achieve and the possibilities that are out there.

This post is what I have done inside a year of sobriety! First and main thing is, I am still alive through liver cirrhosis, torn stomach, mental health issues, deterioration of family life, the loss of all my friends — I am still here, alive and kicking and glad to be, too! Through physiotherapy I am now walking unaided and fit and healthy. Through 3 months of rehab I have learnt the ability to think clearly again, and now I am making my own decisions again —  it’s not alcohol making them for me. I have been abroad for the first time as an adult to see my oldest son (20) who now is proud to call me his dad. I am, in less than 4 weeks, going to see my youngest son (11) through the courts of law and hopefully my step daughter (14), who, as she is not my full daughter (though, to me she is),  I have no legal say in the matter.  But I know she will want to see me again as even while drunk, she was my only true friend. It’s been 7 years since I have seen my 2 angels, but the courts will give me access to my son. It’s just been a waiting game so far and my daughter will tell her mum she wants to see me, too.

So, inside a year: my health, my kids, a holiday abroad and living a sober life for the first time in decades, and everyday getting fitter. I also now have my immediate family all happy and at peace with me, not waiting on the phone to ring saying I was found dead and my true friends (not many…lol) and good new ones around me, and my own apartment, and a future with any possibilities isn’t bad for a year’s sobriety. And I am looking forward to many more!

I love writing about my life because even though it was a fucked up one, it has been interesting! ha-ha-ha.

When I first started to write, I just wished people would listen to me, see what I have gone through and hopefully, one person would say, “Fuck that! I am not gonna drink again if that can happen.” I would be happy and then going through all this would be worth it.

We are all humans. We might be different colors, religions, genders, but we are all human and have a spirit to be happy.


July 17, 2017   20187021_10211372779248137_764777924_o

Drinking Hell has an en suite called Jail



While I was drinking, you get in a lot of fights. One of my fights ended me in 14 months jail time. Having your freedom taking away makes you appreciate your freedom more. I was homeless, so I never had a bail address, which meant I was in jail until I got my case over, which in all took 14 months, so I was on a remand wing! all that time.

Also, on my landing, awaiting their court appearances, were 2 people that stuck out: 2 killers– one who raped and killed a school friend’s sister, and a guy who had stabbed and killed 2 guys over some feud during the troubles.

This is where drinking had got me and took away 14 months of my freedom. By the time the case came round, and the victim (who, by the way, had felt his niece up and I battered him — only regret is, I got caught), did not attend court and actually had to spend a night in jail himself for contempt of court. I got time served!

The other 2 guys, by the way, for their offenses, got 35 years each before considered for parole, and I hope the both of them rot in hell.

This would be me if I kept drinking. I would kill someone or be killed while living on the street. It’s a horrible life at times, and still I did not work out that drink was doing this to me. It was so obvious, but I used to say to myself that this was me. But now being sober, I know and can see the real me. I am a kind, big softie and when I was on the drink, was trying to be and act the big, tough guy (I am sitting here laughing at myself).

This is what drink had done to me. Learning about myself, I have been a wee angry person deep down for issues I am dealing with now, but I could see I had issues with drink in me but just buried them in the back of my mind with the help of the alcohol. I was good at hiding my real issues by making and causing other issues, and sooner or later, I had more issues than Dr. Phil hears all day.

Getting off the drink  has helped me deal with stuff that needs to be dealt with, and the rest of the trivial fucking issues can just fuck off because they’re not even real issues. They were just alcohol helping you make up shit in your head so you could just forget about the real issues!

Stopping drinking and getting a clear mind and normal thinking is probably the most beautiful thing that’s happened to me so far.




July 16, 2017

So Many Questions, Not Many Answers

1Sometimes we tell people we are ok, but we aren’t. I have said things in my Blog that people know about but are things that most if not nobody knows. I tried a couple of times to end my life and hate with a passion those bastards that say he or she is just doing it for attention.

Why would anyone take a hand of tablets or cut themselves just for attention? How the fuck do they know what tablets, or what cut will do to them? Do you think they do the medical research on what tablets to take or where to cut themselves before they fucking do this? This attention scenario is a fucking myth when people come to that decision to leave this life. When I tried, if I succeeded, no one would have known until the smell of my corpse got some complaining.

I have been living in England and no one knew for a couple of months, fuck sake. I have gone on missing lists for years and not once have I been reported missing, lol. That was just who I was. I have woken up in Manchester and to this day haven’t a fucking clue how I got there. Belfast to Manchester is a long distance and a fucking ocean away and I can’t swim, lol.

Anyway, one of my attempts, whatever tablets, I had taken hundreds of the fuckers. I took what they called a psychotic breakdown. People will tell me I was psychotic, lol, but I can remember I was going crazy. I was convinced I had witnessed the murder of my kids, and all the people were telling me it was the effects of the overdose. I screamed and screamed. I ended up being restrained, and it took me a long time to believe this was not true. But that night I did try to kill myself, and my whole reality fell apart for a while.

My drinking was getting me the stage way back then, even. I did not want to face this road I was on! I wanted to die so bad. Another night I sliced my wrists, got drunk, and prayed not to wake up. I lived on my own this time, so if I had succeeded no one would have found me for a long time. But yet again, I did wake up, got drunk, and forgot about it.

A drink, even though it was the main cause of my problems, was also making me forget I was doing these things that I really needed help with. But being an alcoholic, I was ashamed I was doing these things and ashamed of being me. So I just got drunk, forgot, moved on. My last drink was different. This time, the drink was not taking away the fear, the pain. It wasn’t taking away anything. Usually, when I felt sick, I had my drinking down to an art. I would just drink more, and the sickness would go away.

This time blood was coming up — a lot of it. I didn’t know we had that much blood in us. I had filled a sink bin, and my floor was red. I tried my usual drinking more to take away the fear, but it wasn’t. My son was calling that day, I was taking him out somewhere, which for me I was lucky he called. He probably saved my life. I was that weak. I had fallen and struggled to open the front door. Later, he told me it was the scariest time of his life. But here’s what drink was doing to me. I was still convinced if I got drink from the chemist, one of them stomach drinks, I would be okay. He kept saying to phone an ambulance and I said, “Do not phone an ambulance. I will be okay.” Anyway, the story goes, it was the pharmacy who made him phone an ambulance and I am lucky he did!!

I think I said earlier this was my last drink, but it wasn’t. Within 3 months, I had another two similar incidents. I was always with someone on each occasion, for which I am grateful, because if I hadn’t, I would be dead. My actual last drink is a post all on its own, so when I am ready I will write it. (self-employed, lol)

My point of this post: no one ever knows what someone is going through, even their family. My alcoholism became my family. It helped me through everything, yet the alcohol was the fucking actual thing destroying me.

Sometimes we don’t even know who we are, so how the fuck can even those close to us know what we are going through? There’s no answer to why alcoholics are alcoholics, but one fact is: it will kill us if we don’t stop.

So many questions, not many answers!!


July 13, 2017

What Kind of Party is This??! (trust your instincts)


About 7 years ago, one of the real good memories I have is of me and my closest friend outside my family, Chooch. We went on a holiday down to the border in Belleek to do a bit of fishing. As usual, all I did was drink and Chooch could always keep up with me, but he always went to his work and never let drink come before the important things in life, though drink did affect his life sometimes.
I am telling this wee story as I learnt in these couple of days a few things about alcohol. I was off the drink for a while and back then, I knew the evils of drink and the way its evil demons work. Chooch and I always, even to this day, love challenging each other’s intellect. He always thinks he’s right (usually is…lol). But in these couple of days he learnt he was wrong this time, and I learnt that evil drink is a smart, conniving bastard.
Chooch was adamant anyone could have a couple of drinks and well, alcoholism wasn’t a disease, so anyone can have a few drinks and leave it the next day. I argued like fuck that wasn’t true, and that alcoholism was a disease, and when you are an alcoholic you can’t have a mouthful, never mind a pint. I knew that this week something wasn’t right and by fuck, I was right in so many ways.
It started when we booked in and the hotel manager was offering to drive us to the best fishing spots. People are nice, but this kant was too fucking nice. Chooch convinced me that people down there were like that, so I left it at that. We were still having the argument about alcoholism and getting nowhere close to even middle ground. That night there was some sort of party on so I had already decided I was off to the party.
I was not going to drink, just relax and see what the talent was like!! We were down first. Chooch got his pint, I got my coke and was enjoying myself.

The first people were starting to arrive, and I just knew something was about the way these people were dressed. They looked and dressed like they had been time warped there from the 1970s with the funny-looking suits and mustaches like porn stars…lol. My “something isn’t right” radar was screaming its head off. In the end, I just put it down to they were all border farmers or something. By now I was craving for a pint, and my demons wanted to come out to play. They were telling me everything I wanted to hear: “Maybe Chooch is right. I can have a couple. I’ll be okay. More confidence. Easier to approach the girls. I’ll enjoy myself more. I won’t be as paranoid about this crowd.” The demons won that night. I got a pint and within an hour I had about 10 in me!!
Now my paranoia was worse, the girls weren’t on my head, I wasn’t enjoying myself anymore. I wanted to punch people. Everything wasn’t fun anymore. I was drunk and thought I was having fun, but I wasn’t. Anyway, I was drunk and I didn’t care and drunk what I could get down my neck.
Now this crowd was doing my fucking head in. A raffle was done and the numbers were drawn and I won. I was asked to come up and get my prize. I got up to the stage, gave my ticket over, the man checked it, and I had the wrong fucking ticket — all eyes on me. I felt so embarrassed now, I hated these bastards even more.
The night went on. I got drunker and was paranoid as anything about these people. Something wasn’t right to me. Now they started playing fucking Irish shite, jigs, and were singing Republican songs. I said to Chooch, I am getting the fuck outta here, but he convinced me we were so close to the border and this was normal. Drunk, I didn’t care, and stayed.
The night came to an end and a fellow took to the stage and says, “I would like to thank our comrades from Belfast and the Sein Fein Party for using our hotel for their annual party meeting.” All night I had been at a fucking IRA/Sein Fein party!! I thought there and then I was getting kidnapped and executed. I think I shit myself, and if I thought it could not get any worse, they played their soldier song, the final song they always play. I stood up with the rest of the about 200 people there, trying to blend in, and looked over at Chooch and he fucking doesn’t get up!! To this day, I don’t know why, as he couldn’t beat his sister, lol. I didn’t care. It was the fucking IRA and I wasn’t getting shot dead, lol. He puts it down to bravery. Today, I put it down to being paraletic and stupid. It wasn’t a Boy Scout meeting that night. It was a fucking IRA party. Anyway, I learnt a couple things that night.
An alcoholic can’t have one mouthful of alcohol, because the next morning I was down at the bar getting a drink and was back on that downhill to nowhere but Hell hill. No matter who you’re with, even your best friend, the choice to drink is up to yourself. No one puts it down your neck.
Alcoholism is a disease. The demons will always be there trying to get out to play and always telling you what you want to hear. Always trust your instincts and you can enjoy yourself truthfully without alcohol. Alcohol heightens your fears.

Also, I am smarter than Chooch, too. My mate never agrees with anything we argue about, but now he does believe in alcoholism, and I was right that night, the only time he has agreed with me!

Looking back now it was probably the scariest, now funniest night of my life.


July 2, 2017

Why Did I Stop

dead-endSome people get a sign from above. Some people realize what it’s doing to their life. There are lots of reasons why people stop drinking. Mine, to me, was simple: within months, maybe weeks, could’ve been fucking days, I would die.

My stomach had bled out for the 3rd time. I had lost 8 units of blood, and they were sticking someone else’s blood round my veins (transfusion). I was later told not many people survive these bleeds even one time; this was my 3rd one. And somewhere deep inside me, I knew this was my last chance. I can tell you I have had more lives than a family of cats.

This was my wake up call! Live or die, it was as simple as that!!

I had pushed this demon a.k.a. alcohol as far as I could so many times, I used hospitals as garages. I got fixed up and left. That’s all hospitals were to me: M.O.T. centres. Fixed up and then went back to my fill up station a.k.a. off license to get more petrol a.k.a. alcohol and off I would go….off again to get drunk and have more sad tales to tell.

14 months ago, I never got out of hospital and went straight to an off license to get drink. I went to rehab because I wanted to live, and here I am today writing my story.

I have achieved a lot in such a short space of time, this time not just all broken promises. My first goals were as follows:

  • to walk properly again without the aid of a walking stick
  • to go on a foreign holiday
  • to get to see all my children again
  • to be around my family and real friends

And within that 14 months (and one more date at the end of this month with the family courts), I have achieved all of them. At the end of the month I can set new goals and achieve them. The way I look at recovery, the minute you don’t have that next drink that every sinew in your body and mind is telling you to have, you can conquer the world and no achievement or goal is out of reach. So, yes, everyday we say “No” we get stronger, we get healthier, and we get everything good we want coming into our lives.

I have actually been in Hell and climbed my way back out of it. Hell is where your worst nightmares become your good dreams, and then your real nightmares begin. I don’t know if many you will get that, but to me, that’s what Hell is!! When you’re an alcoholic, every sober day is a beautiful dream when you compare it to a drunken day.

My main thing I have also learnt is that things take time. Patience is something I never ever had, but now I have a bit. lol. I realize there’s no quick fix in sobriety. It’s a day by day process and you do whatever suits you and helps you. Nothing else. And day by day you start to live!!


July 11, 2017

Demons at the Door


The difference between a drinker and an alcoholic to me is a drinker goes and gets drunk and the next day, those famous words, “I will never drink again.” I had those days and wish I hadn’t learnt the art that a beer in the morning down your neck takes away that shitty feeling.  Soon I just was permanently staying topped with alcohol, and then I was fucked because I couldn’t stop.

As each day went by, each week, each month, each year I was too far down the alcohol road to return. Then the drink owned me and I was its bitch. It was fucking me up slowly but surely and everything around me fell apart. I had no friends, family couldn’t help me anymore, and the only relationship I had was with my drink. I gambled, got into debt with scary people, was never out of trouble, did jail time, and my kids—well, my drink came first. It came before anything.

A lot of people never knew I was drunk ALL the time. I can truthfully say that when I was sober, (for me that means I only had a couple of bottles of cider in me) people would say, “You’re in a bad shape tonight”. Yet, to me I was normal. Thinking about it, I never really knew what shape I was in. Drink owned me, and I never had anything else in my life. It sounds weird, but the only thing that was keeping me going was the drink. It was actually killing me slowly and taking away all that I loved as well. Killing me and torturing me, at the same time.

Drink, for me, is an evil, conniving bastard. For most, it’s an enjoyable, fun, relaxing thing. But I, like many, am one of them poor bastards that go chasing that buzz. When you learn how to beat a hangover, enjoy yourself all by being drunk permanently.

You think  you have conquered the joy of permanent happiness, but all you have done is let the demons in, and then they start to enjoy themselves by killing and torturing you slowly. So my advice: enjoy your hangovers, because when you learn how to beat them by drinking again, you have just stepped into hell, and your worst nightmares await you!!

It can happen to anyone at anytime. Don’t think you’re invincible, because you’re not.


July 1, 2017

No beauty to see


Like a big wave in the distance,

Violent, angry, threatening is what you see,

All that fear, panic, and of what approaches

and what’s to be.

Then, it happens.

I finally get it, thank God,

and I start again with no fear.

This was me when I woke each morning while drinking

til I got my first beer.

Like a raindrop exploding on the ground

and each drop landing where it can,

I went in every direction to find a place to be — alone, the only man.

Me, like that raindrop, fading into obscurity, slowly, surely,

then disappear,

That raindrop now gone forever, like I would be,

every day, I would fear.

Like a large tree on a winter’s day, with so many stories to tell,

Bare, cold, rough, no beauty to see,

Living by its roots deep in Hell.

Darkness approaches, so tired, so drunk,

Now, a restless sleep in a lonely bed,

Now, day over, and thinking of getting your next drink

is the only thought in your head.


June 28, 2017