I’d propose a toast, fill up a glass and say . . .
But there is a problem, it’s probably the same problem for others, it’s the booze. Some of us escaped the hell of the past to find comfort in a drink or two. It was fun, it was a comfort, it was an escape, it became another demon. Year after year, bottle after bottle, the same routine.
Then someone introduced me to Fanda Eagles and I drank in the full horrors of others stories, and I cried and I drank more, then disappeared for a while. And someone said, come back when you’re ready, someone who cared to write their own story to me and then helped me write mine.
Then I faced my past demons and I saw that others had had even more bizarre journeys than my own and had the courage to put it on line to help others. Some of it was warts and all, but then there was the laughter, some Mks actually laughed at the craziness that was NTM. It felt weird at first, but then it made sense. And I sat with a drink in one hand and laughed for the first time in years. Then I found one day, I got out of bed and instead of pouring a drink first I tuned in to see what had been going on while I was asleep and I realised I was laughing, crying, thinking and without a drink. Some of it was total nonsense, some of it poked fun at the uncomfortable, and some of it brought down the barriers. And now I don’t need that drink to get me going, I’ve taken the first and hardest steps. I’m not perfect, after all my Avatar says it all, the MK with the chainsaw, but life looks much brighter than it did and I am very grateful.
So orange juice in hand, to Fanda Eagles, to those who have made this world a better place, to those who made one Divorced Old Gal from Beyond the Black Stump smile again, BOTTOMS UP
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