Sobriety ten months on?

Ok. So much happens. You start. You stop. You wonder whether anyone is interested. You post on Twitter. What's that all about? Then someone says, 'why don't you continue? You had followers.' My answer is that who cared? Maybe people do. I'd like to hear about that. Maybe the numbers will increase again. God knows there's enough to write about. Where to start?

Well, I guess I'd better get up to date about 'Zach.' He was, after all, the purpose of this blog. To continue where I'd left off in the book. Keep those of you interested enough privy to those throes of madness or, even, sanity. So I will.

Last year we had a blip. This time of year. Maybe it was the subliminal fear of winter approaching. Those short bleak days and long black nights. The cold. The grey skies. The impoverished sun. A five day section in the local medical facility, then out again with little help, comme toujours. Back onto the smack and then the realisation at the end of November that he couldn't do it again. Couldn't live in London with proximity to the dreaded addictive curse. Made the decision that the only way to stop it was to put it as far away as possible and enter a kind of rehab facility. One where it's warm and sunny and there's no heroin on the street corner. Additionally, a place where he wasn't being mugged every day because that was what was happening here...

Ten months down the line. Health. Self respect and a belief that there are better things to look forward to. When I hear the phone, I still worry. When I speak to him, I'm still aware of the change of tone or a leaning towards pressurised speech. He looks so much better. Gone the skeletal frame. Gone the sweaty face, the deadened eyes. It's only ten months. Once an addict, always searching, thinking about the addictive choice. Strength of mind and character has to be so potent. Hard but so rewarding.

To be continued...