Welcome. What am I doing here?

Hello Friends

714 days free. 

Welcome to my blog. I’m Trish, Australian, 59 years old, retired but not retired as I care for my husband who lives with a traumatic brain injury.  I write here because holy shit, at 57 I gave up the drink. I still can’t really believe I did it but I did. Giving up alcohol, when it’s been like a foot on your throat for decades, is a pretty miraculous thing. My husband, after coming out of a 3 month coma, had to learn to walk and talk and live again. When I came out of a forty year relationship with alcohol, I had to learn to live again too. That’s no exaggeration. 

I’ve never considered myself a writer, but I’ve been drawn to writing many times over the years, as a way to get my feelings out of my head. It’s cathartic, such an amazing way to clarify the swirling thoughts that can go round and round, festering and morphing into an experience of life filled with anxiety and worry. All my life I’ve been very adept at anxiety and worry. Now I’m not.

I used to write irregularly, only when my feelings felt overwhelming. Like when my mother died, or when I was really worried about something. It’s funny how your body knows, deep down, what it needs to do to feel better. When I decided to get the alcohol monkey off my back, my Tribe Sober friends suggested journaling as a tool to help progress my sobriety and so I filled a huge notebook that first sober year, and have almost done it again in this, my second. I’ve also shared my thoughts, difficulties, frustrations and sheer joy around sobriety in the TS groups, and have occasionally been told, very kindly, that I can write and should. For a long time I thought I had nothing to say, or, nothing to say that was going to interest anyone else. Now I find the words flow out of me, they take on a life of their own. While I’m still unsure how much interest any of it will be to others, I do know it makes me happy to do it. And these days, I know I deserve happiness, so here I am and here it is. My blog.

Why Polly Put the Kettle On? For as long as I can remember, everyone in my family has called me Polly, instead of my given name, Patricia. I don’t know where it came from, but it always was. When I was very small, before the avalanche of shit came down on my head, I felt loved. I felt really loved, and I was called Polly by all those who loved me. And now, Polly puts the kettle on instead of pouring another glass of wine. And writes.

I hope you enjoy it. I hope these words, from my heart to yours, can help you if you need it. That’s what I’m doing here.

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